Our Mindset Episode 43
Everything was set, but there was one condition — the groom would have to drop us off and pick us up every day, twice a day. There was no way the kids could manage such a long walk otherwise. I told my husband about it, and he replied, “I can do it, but you’ll have to help me with something. The ridge gourds we planted in the field by the river are ready for sale. Aunt wants me to sit at the market stall, but that’s just not my thing. So here’s the plan — I’ll drop you and the kids off around 11 or 12 in the morning, come back to pick up the gourds, and reach the village market by 3 PM. Then you sit at the stall and sell them until 6 PM, and I’ll come pick you up after that.”
He was right. He had never really done anything selflessly for me as a wife, so why would he now?
So that’s how it began. I had already learned how to plant, harvest, and cut gourds from my sister-in-law. Now, it was time to learn how to sell them. I didn’t have any other choice, honestly. Sitting idle at home wouldn’t help, so reluctantly, I said yes.
By noon, my husband would finish his chores on the farm, and I would wrap up the housework and pack lunch. After dropping the kids at Tejaswini’s house, she and I would walk through the town to reach the class. The kids would watch TV for two hours, while my husband would head back to the field to pick vegetables.
I remember my first day at the market clearly. I didn’t even know where the market was or how to sell vegetables. There was a big ground next to the Mahadev temple with a stone platform and shops lined up beside it — tea stalls, fritter stalls, packed with people. Elderly women sat selling their produce. I was overwhelmed.
I felt so embarrassed to sit and sell in the middle of that crowd. The temple hall nearby was big, and kids would play there. My husband laid out a sack for me to sit on and helped me display the vegetables in front. I nervously asked the elderly lady sitting next to me, “How much should I sell a bunch of gourds for today?” She kindly explained the going rates for different vegetables.
People stared at me, and I would keep my head down. Unlike the others who confidently called out to customers, I only spoke when someone approached me. It was easy enough — customers would pick their bunch and pay. Aunt would come by the market around 5 PM, collect the day’s earnings, and leave the remaining veggies for me to sell. Whatever money I made from the leftovers, I was allowed to keep. Since she only had her pension to live on, this little business helped us both with daily expenses. I’d use whatever I earned to buy household essentials on the way back.
Sometimes, Balu would drop by in the evening to visit. Tejaswini and I had grown close — she was two or three years younger than me. Thanks to her, I got to know where to find everything in town. My sister-in-law had told Balu, “Even if you can’t come every day, at least drop by on Sundays.” But I didn’t feel like going anywhere, nor did I have the time.
Mornings were packed — bath, tea, cooking, washing dishes, fetching water, getting the kids ready, collecting grass from the neighboring farm, prepping lunch. That would take me till noon, then class, lunch at Tejaswini’s, and off to the market. I’d sit there until 7 PM. Sundays weren’t a break either — they were for errands like grinding grains, grocery shopping, or chopping firewood. So when would I ever go to visit anyone?
I’d get all the updates from Balu. After dropping me at the market, my husband would work for an hour or two on Patil’s tractor and then come pick us up. That’s how a whole month passed — and eventually, we enrolled Aparna in school.