On a hot and humid afternoon, as devotees walked out of Delhi's Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India, Khaleel stood at a corner carrying a mashak – a traditional goatskin water bag – to offer them a cold drink.
Khaleel, 67, is one of the last remaining Mashakwalas – traditional water carriers – in the country.
He lives at a shrine on the steps of the colossal medieval mosque in Old Delhi, the walled city in the capital, and earns his living by selling water from the mashak, which holds up to 40 litres.
Khaleel, who only uses his first name, draws the water from a well at the shrine to fill the mashak, then sells it to nearby restaurants and shops.
On Fridays, however, when Muslims gather for prayer, he offers cold water to devotees for free. His older brother, Mohammed Umar, also lends him a helping hand.
“I have been selling water for the last 50 years, this is a generational occupation. My father and grandfather were all Mashakwalas,” Khaleel told The National.
“But I offer water for free to devotees on Fridays. It is a sawab [reward] for us.”
Khaleel is from the Bhisti tribe – a word believed to originate from the Persian word bahishti, meaning those who live in paradise. The community is also known as Saqqa, the Arabic word for cupbearer, in northern India.
The Bhistis were once a valued community, particularly during the Muslim Mughal rule in Delhi, as they sold cold, potable water when there were no refrigerators.
Legends from the time say that Mughal emperor Humayun once fell into a river and was rescued by a Mashakwala who offered him his leather water bag to help him swim to the shore.
The Mashakwalas would fetch water from the wells, carry it in their goatskin bags, and roam the labyrinthine alleyways of Old Delhi.
They were essential to travellers, providing them with cold water during the hot summer days.
“There were no piped water lines or taps, no refrigerators, so people used to drink water from wells. We used to carry the water and go from door to door,” Khaleel said.
“It was a flourishing occupation. We never had a shortage of money.”
Children were also trained from an early age to fetch water from the well and to make their own mashak, he said.
“I was 14 when I started this work. My father taught me the method of making the bags.”
“There is a method to clean and stitch the hide. It can take several days to be ready,” Khaleel said, as he stood at the entrance to the shrine, next to half a dozen long, leathery bags hanging from hooks.
Dying occupation
The occupation was passed down to Khaleel and his four brothers through a long chain of forefathers, but the next generation in the family has chosen not to follow in their footsteps.
Khaleel said that while his three sons used to help him draw water and fill the animal hide bags as children, they now work as drivers.
His elder brothers, including Mr Umar, have retired and their children have also followed different paths.
He says the younger generation picked different occupations because of the back-breaking work being a Mashakwala entails – which is now no longer worth it because of the low sales.
“It is a very exhausting job with barely any returns. Imagine walking up and down these steep steps every day, carrying 40 litres of water for just 40 rupees (48 cents) per bag. It is not worth it,” Khaleel said.
Most houses and shops have refrigerators and packaged water bottles.
From travellers and locals, the customer base transitioned to shop or restaurant owners who use the Mashakwala's water for cooking or cleaning – with some using it for their air coolers.
However, sales were further hit by the increasing use of affordable bottled water.
“People now prefer packaged water because they feel it is clean and hygienic but the water in the well is filtered naturally and is sweet,” Khaleel said.
“Before, we worked round the clock. I used to carry water and sell it to at least 50 shops in Old Delhi. Now, I sell it to just three to four shops. Air conditioners have also replaced water coolers. The demand for water from the well has dropped.
“I feel I am the only Mashakwala in Delhi. I am following the tradition of my forefathers.
“But it is heartbreaking that no one else will continue this tradition. It will die with me and my brothers.”
