In Mangaluru’s busy Shivbagh locality, 48-year-old Yashoda lives a life of quiet despair in a crumbling ancestral mud house on 5th Cross. With deep cracks in the walls, partially collapsed sections, and snake sightings, her home is no longer safe — yet she has nowhere else to go.
Unmarried and living alone since her mother’s death in 2012, Yashoda once earned a living through tailoring and beedi rolling. However, poor health has left her unable to work. A government allowance of ₹2,000, which helped her briefly, was discontinued months ago. Now, she relies entirely on a free noon meal from Kadri Temple, often going to bed with nothing but boiled water.
Her home is in dangerous disrepair: doors hang broken, cobwebs line the walls, and the floor is uneven and damp from constant rain. She avoids the unsafe front entrance, instead using the back door, blocked by overgrown weeds and a collapsed well. To protect herself, she uses slippers, sacks, and plastic to cover holes and gaps.
Despite having a sister nearby, family support is absent. Yashoda lives in isolation, her struggle unnoticed amid the city’s rapid development.
Her plight is a stark reminder of the invisible lives buried in urban growth. It calls for urgent government attention, financial support, safe housing, and above all, human compassion.
Yashoda deserves more than mere survival — she deserves dignity, safety, and a reason to hope.