It's a constant hubbub. All day, the city center of Calcutta is blocked by traffic jams. To unclog it, the mayor prohibited access to trucks. They were quickly replaced by thousands of arms, legs, tricycles, men, who find there a way to survive. But at what cost ? Come on, come on, move on! In Calcutta, men took the place of beasts. The largest loads are conveyed by those who are called: the horsemen. We pull four tons there. There are four tons of goods on the cart. Between horsemen and cars the battle is fierce. It's up to whoever goes first. Calcutta has 16 million inhabitants. India's third most populous city is an anthill that reflects the state of the country. In full economic boom, but still very poor. All sorts of small trades of resourcefulness help the population survive. From the cane juice squeezer, to the most surprising: the ear pickers. In the countryside, money smells of danger. These teenagers play tightrope walkers to steal the coal they resell. We attack between three and five trucks a day. Come on ! Pick up! Erasing his fears to feed his family, an art that is taught from father to son among these men. They are cobra hunters. For us the cobra is sacred. We live, we eat, we drink, we sleep cobra. In Calcutta, the only way to transport large quantities of goods is to call on the horsemen. They are a few thousand to share the market. Here, take the order form for this load and there will also be this one to do. OK ? - OK. Taj runs a small business of about twenty men. He doesn't yet have the means to buy a cart, so he rents it for €1 a day. I am responsible for everything. Especially in the event of an accident. When that happens, I have to take care of getting my guys to the hospital. But also goods, carts. Go on ! Push, push! The men pile bicycle frames, people, screws, rice and spices onto their bamboo cart. In all, four tons of goods. Come on, let's get up, get up, get up. Come on guys, put some effort into it. Three men shoot in front. Two grow from the back. They have six kilometers to travel to reach their delivery point where the trucks are parked. Come on, let's move on. Advance, advance. Come on, shoot! Once the convoy is launched, Taj, their boss becomes their eyes, their guardian angel. Come on, double! Come on ! My job is to manage people and traffic around the trolley. Avoid creating traffic jams. I talk to people, I make room for vehicles. We are in a hurry. The cart is launched and we must deliver as soon as possible. Come on guys ! Go ahead, advance my brother, it's up to you. Go ahead too. Is it harder in front or behind? It's much harder for those who pull up front. Stop! It's exhausting, I'm exhausted. It requires such physical effort, you can't even imagine. And sometimes we get hurt. We hurt our legs. Yes, the goods can fall on us. The most difficult thing for the leading men is to hold back the four tons of goods on the descents. Slowly slowly. Careful, hold it. Gently. There are four kilometers left. How many trips do you make per day? We usually do two. Horsemen deserve their reputation as men of strength. They traveled six kilometers in two hours. This is where the goods are delivered and the trucks take over. This is how it works. Trucks cannot enter the center. So they wait here. All these men come from Bihar, one of the poorest regions of India. Take one each. Take it, it is for you. When one of them is exhausted, he is immediately replaced by another man from his region. Like Bindeshwar. This 39-year-old farmer could no longer feed his wife and four children. I am extremely poor and have not found any other work. I have no choice, that's why I'm doing all this. I looked for something else, but couldn't find anything. So I started working with Taj. My life now is this damn cart. At least we make a good living. It's really hard work, but it pays well. Bindeshwar earns around 160€ per month. 30€ more than the average salary in India. In the countryside, this salary, many men are far from earning it. Yet they take even higher risks. In Samsi, a hundred families still live from a job that requires a lot of cold blood. Men are hunters and snake charmers. Wait, look. Look, like this. Do like this. You saw ? Go ahead, bite me if you can. Ali, the most experienced hunter in the village teaches the last of his six children how to charm the cobra. The future survival of the family depends on it. I am already getting my three year old son used to cobras. That way, he will be able to do shows as a teenager. The cobra's venom causes death within minutes. That of the king cobra is so poisonous that a single bite can strike down an elephant. There is no risk for my son, otherwise I would not put him so close to the snake. I know exactly when he will attack. And he only attacks when attacked. There, the cobra is calm. He takes the sun. My son is calm too, he is learning. It gives him courage and self-confidence. Six years ago, Ali and the villagers made a good living with the snakes. They sold the venom to the lab that makes the antidote. The whole community shared the profits, but the state took over the venom trade and banned the capture, possession and charm of cobras. In a corner of the village, the remains of the great era. See those cages? They were full of cobras. All that is over. Our profession is dead. We charmers are the cobra that feeds our families. We don't even have permission to sell antivenom to the government anymore, even though we know how to make it. And that's how we lived. Every time I see these empty cages, I can't sleep at night. They ruined everything. They shattered our lives. If the police catch him with snakes, Ali faces a hefty fine or even jail time. Hey little one, do you want some tea? Be careful, it's hot. But with six mouths to feed, he has long since defied the government ban. This food on our plates, it is thanks to the shows with the snakes that I can buy it. There aren't many already. And if I stop, my family starves. I don't know how to do anything else anyway, like the whole village. And if we can no longer exercise our art, there will remain two solutions: go begging or take up arms against the government. Ali and the men of the village have chosen a third: to continue to hunt under the nose and beard of the authorities. There are about ten men this morning sharpening their cobra spades. When your father goes hunting, do you fear for him? No, afraid of what? Afraid of being bitten by a cobra. Impossible, it's the best. Gentlemen, our destiny is in our hands. Hope the hunt is good. I hope you don't have an empty stomach, because you're going to have to dig hard. In the rice fields surrounding the village, the harvest is in full swing. Rodents swarm there, attracting their worst predators. Cobras chase rats into their burrows. There are traces, I see traces. Where the cobra passes, it leaves an imprint in the earth. You see it perfectly here. The track is fresh, that means he went there a short time ago. Without this, it is impossible to track the snake. This land is hard as steel. Ali leads the hunt. He intervenes only to capture the snake. The men have been exhausted for 40 minutes, when a cobra moult appears. But Ali knows that the animal is already far away. He went there or already there. The chase is off to last for hours. Look at her. Is there something on the side? There's a snake there, that's for sure. Look, there he is. Push yourself, push yourself! I will catch it. Step back, step back! Watch out, he's going to attack! But no, don't worry. Let him go, let him go. It's not a cobra, but it's still very poisonous. Leave it, leave it. This type of snake does not look men in the eye during shows. It's not like a cobra that I manage to make dance. Come on, let's dig. We need to catch some cobras. Time is against them. By late morning, the heat will be overwhelming. The cobras will then sink deep into the galleries. For Ali and his men, the task becomes more complicated. Next to Dhanbad at the exit of the Kusunda mine, a modern-day western is playing out. Stagecoaches took the form of these trucks. And the bandits, that of this gang of teenagers. They covet the load transported in the dumpsters. It is not gold, but a much more precious mineral in their eyes: coal. Stop ! Stop ! Come on, let's do this one. His first truck attack, Bablu did it with his father at the age of thirteen. In his family, we have been coal thieves for three generations. At 18, he is now a respected band leader. Come on help me, let's pick it up! Come and help me. In general, we make between three and five trucks a day. No more than that ? If there are days, we can attack the double. We drop as much coal as possible. If the truck is loaded to the brim, three or four baskets are filled. In the band, everyone has their role. The climbers loot the cargo. Come on, come on, pick it up! The less agile fill the baskets. Like Sajan, eight years old, Bablu's little brother. And their uncle, Indra. The young people drop the coal, I evacuate it. Before, I rode on the trucks, but now the succession is there. Me, I do more than pick it up. Out of compassion, most drivers stop. Others don't even slow down. The other day a boy was killed here. What happened ? A truck was launched at full speed. He tried to climb on it and then he was crushed. Slow down, slow down, stop! There are many accidents. You don't know when it's gonna happen. Today, for example, I could fall out of a truck. You know, at the slightest mistake you slip, you fall and you're dead. I often scare myself, but I have no choice. We only have that to live. Some days, the risk does not pay. In two hours, the petty thieves have amassed only a few tens of kilos. Bablu decides to change tactics. The only way to collect as much loot as possible is to put your hand in your pocket. Give him some money! I give him 2€, okay? Hey wait, wait a little longer. Go for it ! Go again! You don't move! Hey you, you don't start! It's okay, it's okay, he's not moving. Come on, let's continue! The band must evacuate the coal as quickly as possible. It's late morning, the time the mine guards usually come by. Come on, pick it all up, quick! That's a really nice catch, you know? Since we bribed the driver, we knocked down a lot of them. Now we're going to take it all home. And start burning it. The column of the black mouths takes the direction of the village. One kilometer walk with 50 kilos on the head for the strongest. Now we're going to sort the coal and burn it. But these are very large pieces. - We're going to smash them with a crowbar. In its raw state, this ore is of interest only to power plants or industry. To make household charcoal, it must be burned for long hours. Hundreds of families live from this trade. Little by little, the smoke swallows the village. My dream was to study and become a cricketer. But since I come from a very poor family, I couldn't realize it. My father did the same as me. He couldn't pay for my studies and gradually taught me this job. Since my childhood, I have known nothing but this damn dust and smoke. This village is not listed on any map. He doesn't even have a name. Officially, it does not exist. It was built as people arrived. More than 1,500 people live here. In earthen houses. Only Bablu's family, who arrived first 80 years ago, live in a brick house. Me, I was born here. I was born in this house. Her whole wardrobe hangs on this thread. The rest of his life fits in this trunk. I would like to have a big house so that the whole family can live together. That my siblings have separate bedrooms. That my wife and I have a room of our own. We don't even have a bed, no couch, nothing. I dream of having a television and a fan. But that's impossible, I'm far too poor. I don't have any of that at home. Stealing and selling charcoal allows Bablu to feed the ten members of his family. But the price to pay is heavy. The transformation of coal is eating away at his health. In Calcutta too, the bodies are put to the test. In the shopping district, the horsemen sleep where they can. If you loaded the goods the day before, you have to watch the cart. It could be stolen from us. That represents thousands of rupees that would have to be reimbursed to traders. That's also why we sleep here. And it's very painful. Look around you. We sleep on the floor, they are everywhere, look. Anyway, none of us have accommodation in Calcutta. In the early morning, sometimes, the fatigue is such that some no longer have the strength to charge. Like Bindeshwar. In solidarity, his comrades took over. As long as I have the strength, I will continue this job. The day I can't take it anymore, I go home. My dream would be to buy some land with the money earned here, but it's very expensive. Well, that's my dream: one day, to work the land again. Bindeshwar's fatigue has caused the horsemen to lose precious time. It's already half past eight. Come on, hurry up, we're very late. And they are prohibited from driving after 8 a.m. It creates too many traffic problems. Here we go, we're moving forward! Come on, move away! But what the hell are they doing? Before, there were a lot more traffic jams because of trolleys. But gradually, the authorities understood it and it got a little better when they regulated the traffic. It's a big city here, there is a real problem with these carts, it should no longer exist and even less circulate here. The world is changing everywhere and we still have horsemen. Hey guys, there's too much traffic here, what the hell are you doing here? You're the one who's screwing up! You're blocking everyone! But why bother us like that? Hated by taxi drivers, they are also ideal prey for some unscrupulous policemen. Especially when they don't respect schedules. Sometimes they even want to seize our merchandise. We are then obliged to pay a bribe. Are you paying or is your boss? Of course we pay, it goes straight into the cops' pockets. Move on, good god! Their day usually ends around 6 p.m. But that evening, the horsemen redouble their efforts. No question of leaving late a second time and risking a heavy fine. We finish loading it. That way we get ahead for tomorrow and then we'll go eat something and sleep. The takings of the day are distributed every evening equally between the five men. Even Taj, the boss does not touch more than his workers. Take it, it is for you. Today, I won 7€. This is not bad. And I send almost everything to my family. Most of these men only eat one real meal a day, in the evening. I've been here for a month and a half. I have already managed to send a lot of money to my family. It's not simple. Sometimes I earn €2 a day, sometimes four. The hardest part is when you don't earn anything, because there are no goods to transport. When I earn nothing, I can't even eat. I have been here for ten years. I used to pull the cart too, but it's over, as you saw. I take care of managing the traffic. This job is slowly killing me. In the evening, I am broken. Besides, my family didn't want me to come. This life does not make me happy, but I have no choice. Horsemen are doomed to disappear. They reflect the image of an underdeveloped society that emerging India is trying to erase from the eyes of the world. The furnace fell on the rice fields of Samsi. It is now 35 degrees. Ali and his men traveled fifteen kilometers. And still no cobras. Dig it, guys. There are two galleries, look. Yes, I see one going right and one going left. There's a cobra in there, that's for sure. But you'll have to dig hard. That's it, I see it. The sun wears them down, but it's a valuable ally when it comes to illuminating the cobra's lair. It is rolled up. Come on guys, dig some more! Like that, it's good. In my presence, no one touches the serpent. They'll get out of the way and I'll capture him. It's up to me to face the danger. Look how he whistles! He is very upset. Remove your hand ! Take your hand away, he's going to attack! Ali is facing a large male over 1.70 meters tall. The Indians call him Naja, spectacled cobra, because of the design on his back. Move over, let me grab it. Held by the tail, the Naja does not have the strength to get up or attack. Out of respect for the animal, Ali introduces himself to him. You like to dance, don't you? Come on, dance for me. A cobra is dangerous, but I never think about it. Once captured, I consider him my own child and treat him as such. I play with him, I feed him and I educate him. Stay straight. Here, stay calm. Like that. In the countryside, cobras cause thousands of victims each year. However, the peasants do not seek to get rid of it. Quite the contrary. In India, they worship him as a God. The cobra is the guardian of springs, rivers and lakes. It is a symbol of life and fertility. They have another one! Luck smiles on them. This one was crossing an open field. If bitten, the cobra's venom paralyzes the muscles within minutes. Both men and animals die of suffocation. There is an antidote, but no hunter has one, it's way too expensive. Ali, in his own way, he has already saved several lives. If bitten, death comes very quickly. When a hunter is bitten, I immediately make him a tourniquet and I open with a razor blade the place of the bite. I extract the venom by pressing on the wound. It immediately stops its spread in the body. India has about twenty species of poisonous snakes. It is called rat snake. It is used in shows to attract people. Hold it tight, hold it tight! Grab him by the head. According to Ali, the venom of this snake is as powerful as the strength it exudes. Even with four hands, it is difficult to master. It's a good day. It's the fourth we catch. There are days, we may dig all the holes, we may turn over the earth, we come home empty-handed. We will be able to feed our families. God brought us luck. Out of solidarity, the four snakes will be donated to the families whose reptiles have died. Tomorrow, Ali will be on the road. Cobras and rat snakes will mesmerize the audience. At nightfall, the Kusunda mine takes on the appearance of an erupting volcano. Each fire designates a family. Like Bablu's. All transform raw coal into domestic coal. Be careful guys, watch what you are doing. Don't worry, we're used to it. You too concentrate. When the coal has completely burned, it will pass from the raw state to the stage of small pieces. You have to cover it gradually and let it burn out. In a few hours, it will be ready and we will let everything cool. Bablu burns his charcoal every two days. He spends entire nights breathing in the toxic fumes. Over time, they attack his lungs and eyes. We often get sick, so we have to see a doctor. As I have been doing this for years, it is certain that my health must not be very good. How much coal will there be left in the end? The ? I would say 400 kg. No, there will be approximately 250 kilos. Shortly before dawn, Bablu went home to sleep for a few hours. Far from the fires, it is barely five degrees in his house. The night was short and freezing. I ache all over. I'm exhausted, but we have to go and work here. It's still too hot. You'll have to let it cool a bit more. We'll bring my bike to me and we'll start loading the bags. Did you see how it reduced? And if there are too big pieces left, we'll break them up with a hammer. It's hard work, but hey, at least we'll make some money with all this. We'll at least fill five bags. Fully filled. That'll make us 250 kilos in all. They have five kilometers to go before reaching Dhanbad, nicknamed the capital of coal. As they move on, Bablu gets nervous. Watch out, there's the police. In the eyes of the police, Bablu is neither more nor less than a thief. He rarely goes to jail, but racketeering is commonplace. That day, he passed without a hitch. They have already been pushing their 250 kilos of coal for an hour. We do this several times a week, it's exhausting. I hurt everywhere, you can't even imagine. But hey, we have to keep going. Bablu's biggest customer is a small restaurant in this poor neighborhood. He buys almost all of his production from her. I'm selling it for €2 a bag. This is my favorite moment, the reward after a lot of work. If one day I have children, I would not want them to do that. I wouldn't want them to work so hard. I wish I could pay for their education. It's hard to imagine Bablu's descendants doing another job. For three generations, all the men in the family have been stealing and reselling coal. From the first rays of the sun, the snake charmers take out their reptiles. The animal is cold-blooded. Without this heat, it is certain death. Joy is in every house. In a few hours, the show begins. My grandson will also catch snakes like the whole family before him. He will become a snake charmer and play the flute. He too will make the cobras dance in the shows. As my grandfather taught my father who taught me, I would teach him our art. Our life as an artist is not without risk, it remains dangerous. I know a lot of charmers who died, bitten during their show. We have to take risks. To catch it, to show it, believe me, it's damn daring. In a few months, winter will set in. It will sound the big departure. The snake charmers will set off to perform their shows throughout the region. Ali will take the direction of Nepal where the mountain people are generous with him. In these other countries they see few cobras. The rest of the year, the acrobats give about fifteen shows a month, in the surrounding villages. Approach, approach, come and see snakes! It's not a joke, come and see cobras! You've never seen ones like this! Come on, clap, clap! And you can start giving. Come on, get out of there! Slowly slowly. Wait, wait, calm down. Go attack. How you gonna bite me, huh? Come on, try again. Be generous, my brothers and sisters. Go give, give! Rupees, rice and we'll show you a big snake. Look, look at this snake. Come on, get out of your box a bit. Straighten up ! Here is one of the worst predators of the jungle. It's called the King Cobra. If he bites you, he turns you to dust. Instantly. And now I'm going to play the flute for you. I will open all the boxes and the cobras will dance for you. Thank you friend, he gives me 40 rupees, 40 rupees! Come on again! Look, another 10 rupees. Come on, who else? 800,000 families experience snake shows in India. A ten-century-old tradition that the State, as with horsemen, is trying to eradicate in the name of modernity. That day, Ali won €6 and a kilo of rice. Enough to feed his family for a few weeks.
