Our Mindset Episode 11
I started wondering—should I wait another hour, then fetch water, then cook? When would I even get to eat? I was already hungry. When my stomach is empty, I get irritated. I get angry.
A man stopped his vehicle and said, “Dada, your kids are standing on the road, calling out for you.” Hearing that, I broke down in tears.
I have this habit—I endure everything daily, but one day, I just break down. All the bad memories come rushing back, and I cry. And when I’m hungry, my tolerance drops to zero.
Mangu said, “These sugarcane field women are better than her. They work alongside their husbands and run their households. They don’t cry just because they need water.”
Comparing me to a field worker only made me cry harder. I covered my face with my sari and sobbed. Once I start crying, I lose all awareness of where I am. I don’t care who’s watching.
Mami scolded me, “Hey woman! Don’t bring your bad luck upon us. Crying at my doorstep like this—what a nuisance! Listen, both husband and wife have to work to survive. And yet, we don’t ask you to do anything. And still, you’re crying over water? There’s a river down that road—go fetch your own water.”
So I got to work fetching water.
Still, Mangu insisted I go to the tank, while his mother told me to go to the river. That made me cry even more. Mangu snapped, “Hey Dada, shut her up! She’s embarrassing us.”
Embarrassing him? I wiped my tears and looked around. Seven or eight vehicles had stopped. Everyone was staring at us.
All of this… just for a pot of water.
If someone had just taken fifteen minutes to help me get water, Mangu wouldn’t have felt “embarrassed.” In fact, people were stopping and asking him what had happened.
The machine operator spoke up, “I’ll stop for a while. You go and get her some water first.”
His name was Balu. Dark-skinned, always smiling, he looked poor but kind. Later, Balu turned out to be the one who spread the news. Because of him, I gained a good friend. In just a few days, someone new was about to enter my life. And Balu would be the one to bring me the news.
This was my husband’s uncle’s village. I had come here to live for the first time. Since we arrived in the evening, I had no idea which route we took. For the past five or six days, I had only seen the house and the water trough. I had no clue where the school was, where the water tank was, where the river flowed, or even when the electricity schedule changed. No electricity at home, no clock to check the time, no phone, no calendar—I didn’t even know what day it was.
It was my husband’s job to show me around.
Sunday was his day off, but Mami took him away for the entire day. So how was I supposed to know anything?
I also wanted to see where the water tank was. What if there was no water next time? I didn’t want to be stuck in this situation again. So, I picked up a pot and followed my husband.
The school was about half a kilometer from the house. There were many houses nearby. That area was called Nal Mala—I learned that for the first time. Seeing the school, I realized something else: It was time to enroll Aparna in school.