Long before the first diya is lit, Mumbai’s Diwali begins in the dark. Tempos from Nashik and Satara reverse into the lane under the Dadar flyover and tip out sacks of marigold, while electricians in Kalbadevi load coils of fairy lights onto their shoulders.
By the time most of the city wakes up, the flowers have been strung and the lights are on their way to a hundred housing societies. Families will remember the festival for its glow, its sweets and its crowded living rooms. The people who make it look effortless will remember the long hours, the extra orders, and the small kindnesses that came their way.
Before the city wakes
Dadar’s flower market, known to regulars as Phool Gully (flower lane), runs on overnight trucks and early buyers. Marigold comes from farms within Maharashtra, and mogra from Karnataka. Garland makers sit cross-legged behind mounds of orange and yellow, threading flowers onto cotton string by the hundred. The week before Diwali is the best-paid week of their year, because every shop, office and home wants fresh torans (door garlands). The trade carries real risk. Unseasonal rain last year damaged marigold crops in Bhiwandi and other farming belts that supply Mumbai, and sellers paid high prices for stock that left them little margin.
In Dharavi’s Kumbharwada, potters work late into the night through October to meet orders for earthen diyas. Many of the artists who paint the lamps are paid per piece, and lose money on every diya that cracks in the kiln.
Lohar Chawl in Kalbadevi, Mumbai’s largest wholesale market for electrical goods, fills in late October with freelance electricians carrying coils of fairy lights. Over the next fortnight they wire buildings, bungalows and shopfronts across the city, often from twelfth-floor balconies and wet parapets after a late shower. When a set fails on Lakshmi Puja evening, the same electrician gets the call.
At the gate, at the door, on the road
In Kandivali’s Thakur Village, security guard Hari Ram has watched over the same building for decades. Festivals bring a stream of visitors, couriers, decorators and sweet boxesthrough his gate. “Especially during Diwali and the festive season, our work becomes really important,” he says. “The people around also appreciate it and give us gifts, and that is what makes our day.”
Inside Mumbai’s homes, the week before Diwali means the annual safai (deep clean). Fans come down, cupboards empty out and every corner gets scrubbed, and domestic workers carry much of that load. Saroja, a house help in Malad, says her phone rings far more often this month. “There is a lot of safai during Diwali, and a lot of people call us. It becomes really exhausting,” she says. “But at the end of the day, we are doing it for our family, and the other families also respect us.”
Employers say they notice. Sakshi Raut credits the woman who has worked in her home for years. “Our didi (elder sister, as many families address their house help) has been coming to us for years, and every Diwali she does the safai and so much more,” she says. “Our festival preparations begin with her.” Factory owner Karthik Agarwal says Diwali is his unit’s best season of the year. “My entire team works double hours to make it happen,” he says. “So we make sure they get a good bonus, we send gifts home to their families, and we take care of them through the season.”
On the roads, delivery riders carry the festival from shop to doorstep. Staffing firms expect festive recruitment across retail, e-commerce and quick commerce to rise 15 to 20 per cent this year, with at least 2.5 lakh temporary workers added nationally. Adecco India estimates that quick-commerce demand for gig workers has grown 18 per cent this season. The pay for each delivery has not kept pace.
According to Adecco’s estimates, quick-commerce riders earn Rs 20 to 30 a delivery, plus Rs 8 to 15 at peak hours, broadly the same as last Diwali. This is also the first Diwali since Blinkit withdrew its 10-minute delivery promise in January, after riders’ unions went on strike over safety. It is the first festive season, too, in which gig and platform workers have legal recognition under India’s new labour codes.
The morning after
When the last cracker goes off on Sunday night, the city’s sanitation staff begin their longest week. Last Diwali, Mumbai’s daily waste rose from about 6,900 to 7,300 tonnes. The BMC cleared 3,075 tonnes of extra garbage over four days, with 7,145 workers on its special drive and 800 on night duty. About 9,600 of the 13,500 workers who sweep Mumbai’s roads twice a day are women, known as the Pink Army. On the morning after Lakshmi Puja, they clear paper shells, sparkler wire, wilted marigold and empty sweet boxes before the first office crowd reaches the station.
Leisure destinations keep their own crews on duty too. At Imagicaa in Khopoli, housekeeping, maintenance, safety and guest-service teams work through the holiday weekend. “Their dedication ensures that families can come together, celebrate and create lasting memories,” says Dhimant Bakshi, CEO, Imagicaaworld Entertainment Limited.
These workers will see Mumbai’s Diwali mostly from ladders, stalls, gates, kitchens, scooters and street corners. A box of sweets at the door, a fair price paid without haggling at a flower stall, or a little patience when an order runs late will reach them in the week that matters most to their income.
