Our Mindset Episode 4
By the time my husband and his relatives finished surveying the entire farmland, it was already afternoon.
The eight acres weren’t in one place. There was a sugarcane field right in front of the house. Half a kilometer away, there was a pomegranate orchard. And about a kilometer further, near the river, was a well with another small piece of land.
After their visit, my husband’s aunt and cousin returned to their home. My husband ate lunch, rested for a while, and then we started cleaning the house.
In one corner of the house was his old cot, stacked with all the tools and equipment needed for farm work. In another corner, nine or ten sacks of wheat were piled up. We removed the cobwebs, washed the entire house, and organized everything.
I had hoped that washing the house would get rid of the strong, unpleasant smell inside. But the things on the cot couldn’t be moved outside, so the odor lingered.
I couldn’t bear staying inside for long; the smell gave me a headache. So, I decided that until I got used to it, I would cook outside and sleep outside as well. There was shade in front of the house throughout the day. By evening, we had finished tidying up. The buffalo was fed and watered again.
Since I was already familiar with cooking on a traditional stove, I set up an outdoor hearth and prepared our meal. The children ate and fell asleep, and the buffalo was milked.
That evening, twelve women walked me to twelve different homes.
Each one shared all the details about me with their families. It was a habit—women tend to recount everything that happens during the day to their husbands in the evening.
Just as we were about to eat, an elderly man arrived. Everyone called him “Aba.” He owned a pair of oxen and came to inform us, “If you ever need help with farm work, just let me know.” Despite his age, he still plowed and sowed fields with his oxen.
After he left, we had dinner, and my husband went to the well to start the motor pump.
I was alone. The children were asleep. Vehicles passed on the road, so I didn’t feel scared. The house wasn’t attached to any other homes, making the surroundings eerily quiet. Darkness spread in all directions, with only the open air around me. I thought to myself, This is a good place to build a life. My family will surely thrive here.
But I had no idea that my fate was about to change.
I had no warning of the struggles, pain, stress, and daily worries that awaited me. I fell asleep with hopeful thoughts, completely unaware of what was to come.
I believe that both laborers and landowners need each other. No matter how much land someone owns, they can’t farm it alone. And if we work for someone, does that make us any less than them?
Our lives changed when we started earning seventy rupees a day.
The respectful “O Dada!” soon turned into the casual “Ae Dadya!”—a small change that stung. It was the first thing that made me feel the harsh reality of my new life.