Chennai’s streets gradually awaken long before the first rush-hour horns sound, as a quiet workforce is already in motion. Under dim streetlights and the pale light of dawn, women step into roles that would keep the city running high for the rest of the day, such as selling the day’s fish catch in Kasimedu, sweeping deserted roads across the city, and arranging heaps of jasmine at the bustling Koyambedu Market.
They begin their day when most households are still asleep, driving through eerily quiet roads, facing unpredictable weather and the physical labour of their work. Yet, they mostly remain out of the spotlight. These early hours tell stories of resilience, independence, and quiet pride.
Celebrating International Women’s Day, DT Next traces the journeys of women who start their days before dawn, ensuring the city awakens ready to move.
‘Tired of cleaning the city, but it feels meaningful'
Sanitation worker Roslin’s day begins at 4 am. After doing all the necessary household chores for the smooth functioning of the kids and husband, who leave for school and work, she comes to work by 5.30 am. “Honestly, Chennai’s early mornings provide warmth to our soul. It is quiet, calm and peaceful, unlike the usual peak-hour crowd,” starts Roslin, a sanitation worker from Mint Street. “The roads are almost empty except for a few milk vans, newspaper boys, and stray dogs. The streetlights are still on. For a short while, it feels like the whole city belongs to people like us who start early,” she adds.
Post heavy rains, it becomes harder for sanitation workers to clear the clog and remove the waste, as everything will be wet and heavy. “The toughest part is that the job is physically demanding, which comes with several physical ailments,” shares the 40-year-old.
Even after all the physical exhaustion, Roslin still loves and is proud of her work. “When I see people walking on clean roads, I feel a little sense of pride. Many may not find time to notice who cleans the streets they commute on, but I play a part in grooming our Chennai for the day. Definitely, I am fatigued, but this feels meaningful. If people avoided littering and showed a little respect, it would make our work and lives much better,” hopes Roslin, who notes that safety was never a concern for her.
‘Even at 3am, Kasimedu market feels safe'
It’s 3 am, and we see many women marching towards the Kasimedu Fish Market to start their work. From getting fresh fish from the auction to sorting and cleaning them for sale, their work stretches till 12 noon. “The smell of the sea is strong, and the air feels salty and cool. While the rest of Chennai is still asleep, the harbour feels alive and is buzzing with energy. I like the city before dawn as it is blissful,” shares Renuka, who has been selling fish for the past five years after her husband’s demise.
“We have to carry heavy baskets and stand for hours. Some days, the catch is less, so prices go up, and customers negotiate. On other days, there is too much fish, and we worry about selling it before it spoils. At times when I feel like giving up due to the physical strains, it is my three kids that remind me to work hard,” she adds.
The market can be rough, and women have to speak loudly and confidently to compete with other vendors. “Sometimes, customers look down on us because of the smell or the nature of the job. I just wish people would respect our efforts,” she hopes, saying that the market was never an unsafe space. “I have felt a tinge of fear while walking on the roads from my house to the market. But once I step in, my heart slows down and feels safe. I would request to provide more safety for working women, who commute in the city during the late and early hours, as they would be the breadwinners of the family,” she notes.
‘Fellow women flower vendors become my comfort space'
It’s been 25 years since Radhika stepped into the Koyambedu Market to sell flowers. “My day starts and ends here, amid the heaps of flowers. I spend only five hours at home. Initially, it was difficult because travelling this early worried my family. But I have been doing this for years now, and many vendors here know each other like family,” says the 47-year-old, who commutes from Parrys Corner every day in her two-wheeler.
Though Radhika misses her family as she spends most of her time in the market, her fellow women vendors become her comfort zone. “We stand or sit for long hours, and sometimes customers bargain stubbornly even when prices are low. But we support our family with this work. So, I continue with determination,” she adds. Radhika feels that, as Koyambedu provides a livelihood for many vendors and workers, transportation should be made a little easier. Sometimes, she starts her work of procuring flowers and sorting them by 2 am. “Initially, commuting was quite scary. But, I understood that staying strong and marching forward will only help,” she states.
By the time the sun rises, most of my flowers will be sold. “When I see people adorning their hair with jasmine or temples decorated with garlands, I feel grateful because I know that I have contributed to it in some way. Many people only see the final product but fail to see the effort behind it, waking up before dawn, travelling, buying, and tying each strand cautiously,” she says.