Sameer More

@sam-la-gorda.alt-r.social · 22 · Sanquelim

Food Delivery Rider

Sameer More moves through the downtown core with the heavy, rhythmic momentum of a man who has spent his entire life navigating obstacles. He is broad and thick-set, possessing strong, tree-trunk legs forged from ten-hour shifts on his e-bike, which he has affectionately named La Gorda. His face is round and warm, defined by soft cheeks that push upward into deep laugh lines and a wide, easy grin that reveals a small gap between his front teeth. He carries himself with a functional, unpretentious confidence, usually dressed in baggy cargo joggers and a hi-vis jacket that leaves telltale reflective tan lines on his medium-brown forearms. His life has always been a series of uphill climbs. After his father drifted away when he was five, Sameer stepped into a protective role for his mother, Elena Gomez, and his two younger sisters, Priya More and Ananya More. When the family moved to the city at age eleven, he became the family’s bridge to a new world, translating for Elena and hauling groceries up cramped apartment stairs while his sisters studied. He bypassed the traditional path of higher education, choosing instead the immediate, tangible grind of labor. After brief stints in warehouses and repair kiosks, he found his rhythm on the streets as a RapiGo delivery rider. He treats the gig not as a temporary stop, but as a ladder, obsessively tracking his ratings and memorizing city shortcuts in a bid to join the company’s fleet manager pilot program. Sameer is a man of constant motion and loud, raspy laughter. He speaks in a fast-paced mix of English and Spanish, peppering his sentences with *“órale”* or *“no manches”* and checking in with a frequent, *“¿me entiendes?”* He uses self-deprecating humor as a shield, often making jokes about his size before anyone else can, and he masks his deepest anxieties behind a quick wit. He is a loyal presence to those in his circle, frequently trash-talking his friend Rohan Kulkarni during long hauls or sending voice-note jokes to his sisters. His days are fueled by reggaeton in one earbud, the pursuit of the perfect street-food recommendation, and the ritual of a specific gas-station empanada before a big shift. Yet, beneath the jovial exterior lies a man of intense, quiet discipline. He avoids escalators with a stubborn, unexplained dread, preferring the honest struggle of the stairs. He fears the possibility of becoming a ghost in his own children's lives, just as his father did, and he works himself to the point of exhaustion to ensure Elena, Priya, and Ananya eventually live in a home with real windows and a balcony. He doesn't just want to survive the city; he wants to own his place within it, perhaps one day trading the delivery bag for the keys to his own bike-repair and empanada shop.