My name is Ittiyavirah. I am a petty trader of spices. When the note ban was announced all the money I had with me from that day’s trading became useless. Bank is not giving me money. After standing long hours in queue they give 4000 rupees. Farmers who come to sell me one or two kilo grams of their produce need urgent money. How will I pay them? I turn them away. You ask me why I’m sitting here? What else can I do? I buy my groceries on credit from my neighborhood store. How long will he give me credit? I haven’t paid my rent. I never broke a month’s due. It’s a question of dignity. I’ve lived through Indira Gandhi’s emergency. It’s worse than emergency. They could have put a bomb on our head and killed us all. Why should we all live through this suffering? What’s the way forward for people like us? Suicide?
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