A young man in his 20s rushes down the stairs of the metro station, his eyes darting across the entrance, searching for someone. But he’s stopped short in his tracks; a young girl holds up a bunch of roses — some single, some as bunch — saying, “Bhaiya, gulaab le lo, achhe gulab le lo (Please buy a rose, buy a beautiful rose).” The girlfriend hasn’t come yet, and the young man thinks this might be a nice surprise. He buys one and walks off, leaving the little girl with a bright smile and a Rs 10 note. But, more often than not, transaction does not end as happily, in fact, there is no transaction at all. For one girl’s simple token of love, is another’s means of respectable living.

The Noida Sector-18 metro station on the blue line was recently renamed Wave Metro Station as part of a 10-year deal with DMRC that gives Wave Infrastructure exclusive renaming and marketing rights. To the four underage girls selling roses at the gate Number 2 exit, this development hardly meant anything. For them, this will always be sector ‘attara’ metro station.

Years after the metro station first opened to the public, the line demarcating the rich and those struggling to get by have become much clearer. Commuters taking the gate Number 1 exit would be swept away by a sea of humanity, struggling to find their footing in the narrow footpath, already half-encroached by hawkers.

The smell of open gutters, few overflowing on to the streets, and the sight of tiny mounds of garbage strewn everywhere, act as cues for someone trying to find Atta Market. The market snakes out to maze-like lanes where buildings, cramped for space, form a centipede of bricks and mortar. Just across the road, sounds from the chaotic market setting seem muted. Here, the roads are wider, clean and have house, top clothing brands, pubs and restaurants on both sides. From the eyes of an outsider, the metro station had unwittingly separated the flea market and the upscale establishments.

“…he that dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose,” wrote British poet Anne Bronte in ‘The Narrow Way’. Words from this 19th century poet still hold true today for the mother of the three underage girls trying to eke out a living by selling roses on the trendier side of sector-18 metro.

As the crowd swells at the metro station, seven-year-old Sajda and her two elder sisters, Shazia, 13, and Sahiba, 10, duck past the rush hour crowd inside gate Number 2 towards the escalators. Amid the flock of heads bobbing up the steps wearing layers of winter clothing, it’s hard to miss the bright, blooming, bundle of roses in their hands.

The sisters quickly scan the crowd before they approach couples exiting the station. Sahiba cajoles, charms and pleads a man to buy flowers for his lady love and her persistence pays off as the man relents. She manages to sell four roses. Shazia’s nimble fingers help her sister secure the flowers with a ribbon-knot before handing them over.

While the duo target those near the ticket counter, Sajda and her cousin Mumtaz tail commuters outside the station. Dressed in bright salwar-kameez and sporting long braided hair, their eyes dart back and forth in search of customers.

Noticing a group of college students’ exit, Mumtaz rushes to meet them, tugging the bag of a teenager from behind. She sells six roses, each for Rs 20, before heading towards her aunt to replenish her stock.

Keeping an eye on the kids from a distance is their mother, who sits on the steps with bundles of roses spread in front of her. She is in-charge of the inventory and sales. With no education and an alternative source of income in the family, she says, it was Sahiba and her cousin Rani, 12, who pitched the idea of procuring flowers from the wholesale market and selling them at the metro station.

Her extended family of close to 20, all residents of sector-37, source the roses from the neighbouring Ghazipur Mandi and disperse into small groups in and around Noida at various metro stations, traffic signals and malls.

A bundle of 20 roses can cost anywhere between Rs 200-350, depending on the season and demand. As the price fluctuates, they try to adjust their rates and sell each rose for Rs 10-20. But, when the price shoots above Rs 400 per bundle, they are in a fix. The mother of three, who refused to give her name, said, “It is a big gamble, but this gamble has become a part and parcel of my life now, for the past three years.”

Selling flowers is not just a source of income that would put food on the table for her family every day. The thought of marrying off her two elder daughters pushes her to go through this ordeal every day.

“The two older daughters are at a perilous age, it’s them I’m mostly worried about. Even when they try to make their way through the crowd to sell flowers, I’m worried that they are not manhandled or touched inappropriately,” she said. It’s a mammoth task to save money for daughters’ marriages, she said, and only if they start early, they can save just enough before they turn 18.

Education in the family means dropping out at class one and going to work. “Where is the money to send them to school, if we manage three square meals a day for everyone, it’s more than enough,” said the mother. Even government-run free schools for underprivileged kids are not within their reach.

“Nothing in the world is free for the poor, and money is required for everything. They want papers (birth certificates) for their admission in schools. Where will I get those papers? They were all born at our home,” she said.

As the evening nears, the shadows grow smaller and lights come on inside Wave One, a soon-be-inaugurated 41-storey building near the metro station. With most of the roses sold, the family prepares to leave for home. Today was a good day for business. They hope Valentine’s Day would double their sales.

Selling flowers at the metro station has been challenging for the mother and her girls. Police and metro authorities occasionally chase them away for employing minors. The mother pleads helplessness and says it is the only dignified way to earn a living.

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