Barapani had beckoned me time and again and I was drawn to the hills, the serene lake, the simple folk and the breathtaking beauty all around. At the beginning of my career, the pure of the hills had taken me to the forsaken place where I worked as a temporary Physics teacher with a meagre amount. Sharing flat with a pompous music teacher, living on my own and dreaming day and night in this heaven, what not it taught me...and again this job as an air traffic controller brought me to this place for an year, an year with my toddler and an year without spouse, an year of retrospection, an year of bliss, an year of solitude!
All said and done I know one thing I'd take with me from here is ( provided I leave in the right time) the memories of these girls here.. simple, smiling, hard working.. running small shops in one hand and large families in the other. Independent, struggling, smiling and when required they can tackle their menfolk in an enviable manner, give them a taste of their own medicine..! I have seen all the domestic helps wherever they are Delhi, Guwahati, Kolkata one common thread binds them, one single story with one common character...a drunk violent jobless husband..here somehow the story has a twist... braveheart hardworking womenfolk...decision makers..and supporting men behind them..well things may not be so simple as they seem..but for a change this is interesting ..and I can't help admiring these women.. starting from their Jainsems wrapped neatly over their clothes, and when dressed for an occasion,their cardigans matching with the Jainsems and bellies following suit or the beautiful silk dharas adorning them...to their grit and tenacity...they are just enchanting!
Iva, the beautiful young girl with bright red lipstick in the days she is well and a nice flirty smile works in the office from eight to five thirty, has two sons at home, most of the days as I return from evening walk I see her standing in queue to collect water from the roadside tap, sometimes beating up her son and rarely sometimes her contagious sound of laughter catches my attention as I turn to see her sipping tea in the small tea shop with other folks, waving at me smiling with her kowai stained lips. There is Rani pale timid, three children at home, studying for her Class XII exams when she is not cleaning office and making tea, there is Meera smiling chatting , she lost her working husband of excessive drinking, left with five kids, no compensation from office yet. Meera runs a tea shop the lifeline of the airport.. provides poori for breakfast, simple rice sabji for lunch and roti for dinner. Sometimes I wonder without Meera's shop all the airlines staff, office staff, workers all would starve to death..even the passengers when flight is delayed because nothing edible is found inside the airport. Debo, Meera's helping hand, over worked, stressed out often sick with stomach ache and fever, sits in the shop from morning to night, without her pooris aren't fluffy enough, lunch isn't ready in time and when she is taking a break I have seen her carrying a pile of hay while returning from harvest. The pimpled, smiling girl..people say won't get married.. some failed love affair..who knows..
Peaceful the sweet fragile tiny office assistant whom everybody love to tease, Theresa hardworking shy office attendent..comes to office leaving her infant at home. And the numerous girls who run different shops, some sell Kowai the local betel nut, some pork and fish and in the local market day so many would flock around, some with a stoic expression, some using a smile to bypass the language barrier, oldies smiling and speaking in pure Khasi.. I hardly get the language barring a few stray words I have picked up..but the smile is infectious and the toil the hardship..my salutes to these women..hardworking, financially strong but empowered and independent...are they.... naah we have a long way to go...
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