Our Mindset Episode 23
After finishing our meal, she looked at me and said, “If your husband had brought groceries yesterday, you wouldn’t have come here today.”
I was surprised. How did she know we hadn’t bought groceries? I asked, “How do you know?”
She smiled. “Baloo told me this morning. He and the other two kids from your neighborhood often talk about you. Ever since you moved here, there’s a man from our estate who keeps coming to Baloo, asking about you.”
Hearing this, my curiosity grew. I asked, “Is he the one who covers his face with a scarf? What’s his name? And why is he asking about me? If he’s from your estate, you must know him.”
She nodded. “I know him, but I can’t tell you his name. He’s from a well-off family, holds power in the village, and has a strong presence in our estate. If I tell you his name and you mention it to your husband, my name will get dragged into this. All I can say is—he’s a Patil.”
That wasn’t enough for me to recognize him. I had never even crossed the river. Seeing me lost in thought, she said, “Don’t overthink it. In a few days, Baloo himself will tell you his name. Come on, let’s pick some vegetables for you.”
She handed me fresh okra, cluster beans, chilies, and spinach. Then, changing the topic, she asked, “Doesn’t your family own farmland?”
I replied, “Yes, four and a half acres.”
She was shocked. “How many brothers-in-law do you have?”
“Just one,” I said.
“That means your share is at least two and a quarter acres. And despite that, your husband chose to work as a farm laborer? I’ve seen him handle all kinds of farm work since I got married. If he had put that effort into his own land, your family wouldn’t be struggling for food. Look at me—I have only one and a half acres, yet I’ve managed to build my life on it. But you? You have so much land, and still, he brought you here to work for someone else? The day someone takes his wife away, he’ll realize what he’s lost.”
I listened to her, but instead of responding, I was lost in my own thoughts. She was right.
Until now, I had only seen him driving a tractor. Despite owning land, he worked as a daily-wage laborer for seventy rupees. His younger brother-in-law, Mangu, who was much younger than him, was now his employer. And he had dragged me into this dependency as well.
Here I was, struggling to afford a pack of biscuits for my kids, while my husband ignored the land he rightfully owned. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. His father was no different—he, too, had never farmed his land. If someone offered him ten rupees, he would clean the drains in front of their house, chop wood, or work at the butcher’s shop all day. At night, he’d bring home a goat’s head and a few bones, cook them until midnight, and the next morning, he’d beg for leftover bread from the village to eat before heading off to another day of odd jobs.
And now, his son was following the same path—leaving his own land barren while farming someone else’s.
I had made up my mind. As soon as I got home, I was going to talk to him about this.