The plucker: A cycle of poverty
At noon, when the siren signalling the end of the morning shift blows through the Mogulkata Tea Estate, 45-year-old Mina Sharma collects her umbrella and flip-flops and joins an endless queue of sweating, ragged women waiting for their tea leaves to be weighed.
In front of them, dressed in sleek, impeccable shirts and shorts, two male managers check the weight and scribble the number of collected kilos on small pieces of paper, handing them to the pluckers.
As soon as she dumps her load into the trailer, Sharma rushes home to cook a meagre vegetable lunch, the only thing her paltry wage can afford. In 90 minutes, when the siren will blow again, Sharma will re- turn to pluck the rest of the 25 kilograms of leaves she is tasked with for the day.
“My life is a constant rush,” she explains eating hurriedly. A single mother of one, Sharma started working as plucker when she was 30, taking over her mother's job. Born and bred in Pakka Line, one of the several villages dotting Mogulkata, Sharma lives with her parents in the rundown house provided by the tea company more than 50 years ago. “They never mended it,” she says bitterly, looking at the rusted roof. “Every time it rains, we have to use umbrellas inside.”
The dwelling has no toilet or running water. The only water tap in the area serves 500 people.
“Every time it rains, we have to use umbrellas inside.”
MINA SHARMA A PLUCKER
Caught between the desire of a better future for her loved ones and the fear of losing the few certainties she has, Sharma hopes her 25-year-old daughter will replace her in the fields one day.
After decades of sacrifices and a life completely devoted to tea harvesting, her only reward would then be to keep on living in the leaky house that hosts all her memories, but that she will never be able to truly call hers.