One of the one percent in 13 million.

[Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi]

This muggy evening, on the staircase of a Connaught Place subway near Charkha Park in G Block, she is sitting in a gold salwar-kameez, her face painted gold. Beside her are gold-coloured props. A bottle of milk stands nearby.

She introduces herself as “gold woman.” She might well be Delhi’s first. This is her 15th day.

The so-called Goldman first surfaced in CP weeks before the Covid pandemic, and the act has since spread as a way of making a living. There are now two or three gold men in the area, though not always seen on the same day. In gold-coloured costumes, with their exposed skin painted gold, they stand motionless, donation gullaks beside them. Passers-by stop to take selfies with them, sometimes leaving money.

Now there is a gold woman too. This moment, catching her breath for a few minutes before returning to the work spot upstairs, she graciously agrees for a conversation. She says male passers-by sometimes pass nasty comments at her. “Those words enter through my one ear and leave from the other.” She has four children. The younger three do not go to school and accompany her—see photo. The second youngest is playing with a green toy car.

Through all these years of married life, she had never worked outside her home, looking after the family in their single-room residence in Uttam Nagar. Until a few months ago, it was her husband who appeared as gold man. An illness has made it impossible for him to stand motionless for long. He is undergoing medical treatment but accompanies her each day to Connaught Place. Before this, he was a building contractor and had lost a great deal of money in the business. The family owes a lot of money to lenders, she says, so there is little choice but to keep earning.

When she began appearing in gold, she took the name Sheela. Her Aadhaar card carries another name, she says.

Her daily routine is demanding. She gets up at 5.30 in the morning, prepares breakfast, bathes the children and gets the household ready. Around 10.30, the family leaves home. They take the Metro and reach Connaught Place around noon. Sometimes she manages to bring lunch. Otherwise, they eat samosas here. They leave by 8 in the evening. On reaching home, she starts preparing the dinner.

When asked how she feels about her new work, she starts to cry. Her mother died a month ago, she says, and these days she thinks of the mother all the time.

[This is the 638th portrait of Mission Delhi project]