Sheikh Yusuf | i’m a popular guy Aurangabadsoon afterward lockdown In March 2020 it was announced that the 49-year-old laboratory assistant found his wallet to be thin. The salary of a pharmacy college in the city was shaky. Had to pay off debts, buy groceries, worry about children’s fees. But the lockdown meant that he would have to stay at home. And as he sat down thinking about the future, the less bright it appeared.
However, things started to appear when Yusuf became aware of the “essential services” that were allowed to operate by the government at the time. He soon bought and sold vegetables with a friend; He made himself a freighter, started buying produce at wholesale price from Jadhavwadi market and started moving the goods to the corners of Aurangabad city. It was hard work, but the much needed income started coming in.
Months later, restrictions were eased to allow some people to return to work. Yusuf got a call YB Chavan College of Pharmacy – He needed his lab assistant.
before this global pandemic, Yusuf had a rusty old bike for the hour-long commute to work. But the world around them had changed – the price of petrol had gone up (now it is Rs 111 for a liter), their savings were hit, public transport was unavailable and there was still no one to service the fallen vehicle. The garage was not open. Separate. “I didn’t know how to go to work. Then I remembered the horse.”
In his words, it was a smart decision. A relative had a horse for sale for Rs 40,000 and Yusuf used to ride as a child. He sold his rusty bike, made some savings, fixed a monthly installment with a relative and some negotiations later, in May 2020, brought home ‘Jigar’, a beautiful, dark horse of the Kathiawadi breed. Yusuf’s workplace is 16 km away; Jigar was bred to cross the desert. The four-year-old was perfect for Joseph and his bag.
Within days, Joseph became known as the “horseman” – the children smiled at him. He kept the liver on the side of the road, kept safe from moving traffic. The police busy in the settlement also did not pay much attention to him. “Sometimes I was stopped, I told him I was going to take him out to graze.”
Today, after three years, the sight of Jigar and Yusuf is made amidst all the cars, buses and bikes that have returned to the streets of Aurangabad. Every day, he and his youngest son get up early to groom the horse. Exactly at 8.30 he leaves. The principal of the pharmacy college allows Jigar a store room in the building, where he is kept along with some fodder. Yusuf goes to give her some water, checks if she is comfortable and at the end of the shift, the two return home.
And it is quite possible that Yusuf will never buy a bike again. The Rs 4,000 set aside for monthly expenses had to be increased to Rs 6,000 in view of the rise in gas and commodity prices. That old bike of his was also thirsty. However, the liver requires less than Rs 40 per day for maintenance. And since Joseph lives on the outskirts, the surrounding fields and fields are a good source of fodder. “I don’t need the bike anymore. I have the liver to take me to work,” says the father of four.
However, things started to appear when Yusuf became aware of the “essential services” that were allowed to operate by the government at the time. He soon bought and sold vegetables with a friend; He made himself a freighter, started buying produce at wholesale price from Jadhavwadi market and started moving the goods to the corners of Aurangabad city. It was hard work, but the much needed income started coming in.
Months later, restrictions were eased to allow some people to return to work. Yusuf got a call YB Chavan College of Pharmacy – He needed his lab assistant.
before this global pandemic, Yusuf had a rusty old bike for the hour-long commute to work. But the world around them had changed – the price of petrol had gone up (now it is Rs 111 for a liter), their savings were hit, public transport was unavailable and there was still no one to service the fallen vehicle. The garage was not open. Separate. “I didn’t know how to go to work. Then I remembered the horse.”
In his words, it was a smart decision. A relative had a horse for sale for Rs 40,000 and Yusuf used to ride as a child. He sold his rusty bike, made some savings, fixed a monthly installment with a relative and some negotiations later, in May 2020, brought home ‘Jigar’, a beautiful, dark horse of the Kathiawadi breed. Yusuf’s workplace is 16 km away; Jigar was bred to cross the desert. The four-year-old was perfect for Joseph and his bag.
Within days, Joseph became known as the “horseman” – the children smiled at him. He kept the liver on the side of the road, kept safe from moving traffic. The police busy in the settlement also did not pay much attention to him. “Sometimes I was stopped, I told him I was going to take him out to graze.”
Today, after three years, the sight of Jigar and Yusuf is made amidst all the cars, buses and bikes that have returned to the streets of Aurangabad. Every day, he and his youngest son get up early to groom the horse. Exactly at 8.30 he leaves. The principal of the pharmacy college allows Jigar a store room in the building, where he is kept along with some fodder. Yusuf goes to give her some water, checks if she is comfortable and at the end of the shift, the two return home.
And it is quite possible that Yusuf will never buy a bike again. The Rs 4,000 set aside for monthly expenses had to be increased to Rs 6,000 in view of the rise in gas and commodity prices. That old bike of his was also thirsty. However, the liver requires less than Rs 40 per day for maintenance. And since Joseph lives on the outskirts, the surrounding fields and fields are a good source of fodder. “I don’t need the bike anymore. I have the liver to take me to work,” says the father of four.