R’s house took some time to find, we walked around for a bit and then asked a pharmacist for directions. He pointed us to R’s workshop, a small room on the first floor looking out over the street. Inside the house, R’s wife, Z sat on the only bed in the house sorting some tags for jeans into sets. R and Z had three daughters, two of whom are married, and three sons. Until about a year ago, R worked at an import-export factory but he was let go. Instead of finding work at another factory, he learned printmaking from a karigar (craftsman) and opened his own karkhana (workshop). He began printing tags for clothes, stickers, and cards and was receiving orders even from distant cities. One of R’s sons, H, helped out at the workshop and so did not go to university regularly.
A washing machine, which did not seem to be in use, stood in one corner of their living room and instead of photographs or artwork, badminton rackets hung from the walls. Z generously fed us mangoes and fried namkeen (a kind of friend lentil based finger-food) while cousins and friends of the family milled around, chatting.