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A strong woman need not have knowledge of feminism - she just needs to decide upon the right thing to do, and do it!
A strong woman need not have knowledge of feminism – she just needs to decide upon the right thing to do, and do it!
Ganga! I have known her for more than ten years now. The first time she came to work for me, I hired her as a cleaner. She was without a flicker of a doubt, the best cleaner I had seen in my life. While she was brooming and mopping the floor; the cobwebs if any got cleaned, the foot mats were washed and replaced with fresh ones, corners of dust invisible to others were cleaned up minus my having to tell.
She had that intrinsic quality of going a step further from ‘service’ to ‘delight’. In a way, what came as gyan through big conferences to us marketing professionals, this illiterate woman knew by default. Strategy in its basic unit is nothing but common sense, hence proved! If I could put a smiley here just not to offend serious strategists, trust me I would have put one. Wink, wink!
Soon, Ganga became more important in my household machinery. She moved on from being a basic cleaner to someone who also handled my launderette and dusted my house. Her home was a walkable distance from mine, and she needed the money. I needed someone whom I didn’t have to followup constantly; so assigning her more work was a natural choice.
The surprise came, when I moved out of the house I stayed in and she decided to take a bus, spend the extra forty five minutes commuting but work for me still in my new house. She was diligent and meticulous in her work, why would I have minded?
I gave birth to my daughter in this house and Ganga being the responsible and hygiene-freak that she was, graduated to becoming her nanny. She helped me find a cleaner and supervised my other house helps while training them. Her perpetual smile no matter what the situation never failed to surprise me. Even when she was consistently late for ten days and I reprimanded, she smiled. Odd that it came so easy to her despite all not being so hunky dory for her personally.
Ganga I knew was the sole breadwinner in her family setup. Hers was the classic domestic help story with an alcoholic husband and three kids to support. Only silver lining was that she never got beaten up; her hopeless husband was sensible enough to let the sole earner’s physicality stay fit.
In a way, this arrangement worked fine for Ganga. She earned while the husband took care of home and kids. So barring her punctuality issues, I had little to complaint and she hadn’t much complaints from life either for all seemed to be going okay.
Trouble arrived when she conceived her fourth child. Her awfully alcoholic, insecure and irresponsible husband who had lost all his interest in home, kids and the concept of family altogether harboured a new notion that this child was not his!
In due time, Ganga decided to take a break owing to her pregnancy woes. I found a replacement and then another one in short span of time. Invariably, I found myself comparing the replacements to the benchmark she had set. Needless to say, others failed miserably.
By the time she gave birth to her fourth child, my daughter had grown up a little. Now with a newborn baby, dynamics changed. She couldn’t work full time and neither could she travel long distances. Thus we settled for an arrangement where she worked close to her place of residence but every fortnight she would come to my place for about five hours. For me, it meant getting some extra cleaning and organising done. For her, it meant extra bucks.
I often wondered what happened to her situation at home? Has her husband started working now that there is one more mouth to feed? If not, then how is she meeting the extra financial burden? But mostly, has her husband changed his ‘not my child’ theory after seeing the baby in flesh and blood? However, the way Ganga behaved- cool, contained, conscientious about work and instructions given; I assumed all must be well.
One day though, while she was organising my cupboard and I sat on a chair giving her a set of instructions about what goes where, curiosity got the better out of me. What this woman told me as an honest answer to my question was incredible. It goes:
“Didi, my husband doubted me so I threw him out of house. I had savings and you had given me enough advance, so I sustained through first few months. Your daughter’s hand-overs of clothes, bottles, shoes and even pram took care of lot many worries. As of now, my pregnant sister in my kind of alcoholic-husband situation looks after my house and kids while I go out to earn.”
I was stunned to hear this. Here was this woman with real strength! Not only she did away with a redundant, burden of a man; she took care of a full family plus a pregnant sister and was ready to shoulder the needs of a newborn all over again. I saluted her from the core of my heart for the substance she had shown. No big libertarian talks, no woman of today exhibitionism; plain action was how she rolled. I applauded her for her decision and strength. But yet again, I couldn’t help myself from asking how she survives such pressure and pulls it all through with a smile and exemplary work?
And here is the life lesson she had me revise with her easy smile, “ek baar mein ek soch aur ek kaam Didi, ek baar mein ek.” (One thought and one thing at a time, Didi, one at a time.)
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Many Indian elderly are firm believers in enslaving a daughter-in-law in the name of tradition which is actually a tradition of oppression and not of religious faith.
Albeit, the popular culture has interpreted scriptures as suggesting that Kanyadaan is the supreme form of donation given to someone, the connotation that the word donation alludes to definitely objectifies the girl.
Even when the exegesis justify the act of giving away the daughter, considering it a ritual to mark the initiation of the daughter into her husband’s gotra and her becoming the part of his family tree.
There is no denial of the fact that this initiation is not required on the part of the groom thereby formally denoting the end of the filial ties with the daughter as it was popularly instructed to the bride during the Vidai ceremonies:
"I chose to go out into the remote, wild, unknown, and make it home," says entrepreneur Kiranjeet Ahluwalia Chaturvedi, who owns Birdsong & Beyond.
The story of my mountain home Birdsong & Beyond started taking shape in 2009, on the internet, the way many stories do these days.
My childhood fascination for a life in the Himalayas led to an internship with a central Himalayan NGO instead of a much prized corporate assignment. But when they offered me a full-time job, I refused. I was overcome by fear and a lack of confidence.
My other longings pulled me away – the longing to fit in, to earn validation from others. By my mid-30s, with all the trappings of a middle-class urban life in place, the call of the snows couldn’t be ignored anymore. So I got to work on it with clearer intentions and a stronger sense of what I needed for myself, and why.
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