new delhi journal; in india\'s society, laundry is no longer destiny

By EDWARD A. GARGANAUG.
1993 this is a digital version of an article from The Times Print Archive, before it starts online in 1996.
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As Mark Twain stumbled into India at the end of the last century, he looked around and concluded in his memoir, \"Following the Equator,\" that Indians are people who break stones with clothes.
Today, from the southern tip of India to the foothills of the Himalayas, there are still men and women driving their clothes away from saris and kurta pajamas with brute force.
They are Dolby people in India, most of them are untouchable foreigners despised and avoided by other Indians, however, their services are as important as those of Indian farmers, politicians and Brahmin priests.
But modernity is encroaching on tradition, and for the first time in India Dubus sees their livelihood and survival threatened.
The villain of the automatic washing machine ruthlessly sneaked into middle-class families.
Shahid Ahmed said that the machine was cleaned up faster, \"It affected our business,\" and he pointed to the dirty, torn T-shirt.
\"Some of the work we do in three or six days, this machine is done in an hour.
Because of this, we did not get good clothes to wash.
\"When the sun began to rise dimly on the vast plains of the great waters, thousands of Donovan people gathered on the mud beaches of Yamuna, and a great deal of muddy water smelled of industrial pollutants, this is the main source of water for many North Indians and the main dumping ground for sewage and industrial waste.
Every day, dhobis collects a bunch of dirty clothes-
Yellow, blue and green sari, white cotton shirt and trousers, traditional kurta pajamas-
Start washing and cleaning in the river.
An hour after the advertisement, dhobis stood in the rotten mud, hung the soaked clothes on his head, and slammed them on a stone or concrete board.
The clothes echoed by the stone thwap along the river, and with every swing of their arms, dhobis made a low whistle.
\"I have been doing this since I was a child . \"Ahmed said.
\"My father is a local tyrant.
\"My sons are stupid,\" he said . \" His hand went to a mud, where a young man was laying clothes, more dirty than clean, in the sun
As he spoke, the children frolic in the waters of Yamuna.
A small team of four, one of whom, with a parcel of a dead child, went to the river, where the man pushed the wrapped body into the water.
Shrug the person who resigned.
Ahmed shrugged at a glance.
He went on to say: \"We did make money. We did eat, but the money was not enough. it was about 300 to 400 rupees a week . \"-
About $13.
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Ahmed and his three sons work seven days a week to clean up clothes on the middle and lower levels of Delhi
Middle class, a process that takes six days. to-
Door-to-door collection, soak, knock cleaning on the slate, dry in the open air, and then deliver to the door.
They handled hundreds of people\'s clothes and they said never send sari back to the wrong house.
However, as the years go by, their future, the future of those born for washing clothes seems increasingly uncertain.
Sales of washing machines have mushroomed since 1986, up nearly five times last year to about 500,000 units.
These machines range from simple, almost self-made devices sold by local mechanics, to fully automatic machines based on German or Japanese designs, with prices ranging from around $65 to over $600, appearing in the middle-
First class homes and apartments in Indian cities.
Just 10 years ago, any affordable Indian woman was disdainful to wash her clothes at home and hand them over to the ubiquitous Dolby, and now, TV commercials encourage people to fill things up with their own washing machines, charming women everywhere happily stuffed her husband\'s shirt into a sparkling machine.
\"This is not to say that I have become a Dhobi,\" said Ram Kishan . \" He guessed his age at about 45. \"I am a dhobi.
\"Like his partner, Mr. dhobis.
Kishan believes India\'s changing consumer goods and modern amenities threaten his future.
\"According to status, these are all ways of life,\" he said . \".
\"People who used to wear shirts, they can use these machines.
But people wearing 15 days can\'t use this machine.
\"It\'s going down day by day,\" he continued . \".
\"We don\'t have other skills, so we can\'t move to other professions.
You see, the river is getting dirty every day, so we can\'t keep the clothes clean.
So we suffer in the hands of consumers who buy machines.
\"The city government is trying to drive some dhobis out of Yamuna by building a group of concrete bathtubs with taps.
But there are too many dhobis and too few bathtubs.
Kedearnath Kanojia, a man whose tough skin and strong arms are evidence of decades of hard work in the Sun, who works with his five sons,
It\'s very high in the bathtub full of water.
Advertising is \"better than rivers,\" he said \".
\"There are many facilities here.
There is some shade and the water is clean.
But it\'s hard for us to survive.
If a family gave us 100 pieces of clothing a few years ago, they only gave us 15 pieces now, only those who were not suitable for these new machines.
I think my grandchildren should do other jobs.
This requires a lot of effort.
You have to work in all kinds of weather.
We have been working.
\"A version of the article was printed on page A00004 of the National edition on August 16, 1993, with the title: New Delhi daily;
Laundry is no longer a fate in Indian society.