uesday, May 23, 2006
She sat there- on the dirty floor of the local train. Her little baby sleeping on her lap, just like any infant-undisturbed and oblivious of the rattle of the train or the voices around. Like is the case on most days, I prefer standing in the gangway to get some air in an otherwise claustrophobic ladies compartment. Today, I happened to be standing next to this very woman. Just like her baby, she was oblivious to her surroundings as she caressed the little one in her arms, combed the baby's hair as she slept and looked for any marks on the baby.
Two stations later, I saw her taking out a torn, tattered shawl. "Must be to cover the baby," I thought. But to my amazement, she made a small ball of it to put it on her head_ but not before she adjusted the ghoonghat of her saree on her head. That's when I noticed it. A heavy parcel plopped right next to her.
Her expression was set as she prepared to get down at the next station with the sleeping child and the parcel, which she dragged to the door. She was on the edge. Baby parcel and all and as she bent to get the 'potli' closer, my hand instinctively reached out so that she wouldn't fall. She looked at me and smiled and that's when I realised how young she was - not more than 24 years. The smile was also one that meant to say - "No worries, I've done this before," and sure enough, she got down at the crowded station, baby, potli and all without much fuss.
She was gone. But her expression, her smile stayed on. She was gone. But not before she got me thinking on the strength that women possess. She probably had a stackful of vessels to sell in the area or possibly some heavy plastic items - but her body language, her poise gave the story of a woman who knew what she was doing and was content - not because she had everything in life, but because she was holding everything she had in her arms - her sleeping child.
Two stations later, I saw her taking out a torn, tattered shawl. "Must be to cover the baby," I thought. But to my amazement, she made a small ball of it to put it on her head_ but not before she adjusted the ghoonghat of her saree on her head. That's when I noticed it. A heavy parcel plopped right next to her.
Her expression was set as she prepared to get down at the next station with the sleeping child and the parcel, which she dragged to the door. She was on the edge. Baby parcel and all and as she bent to get the 'potli' closer, my hand instinctively reached out so that she wouldn't fall. She looked at me and smiled and that's when I realised how young she was - not more than 24 years. The smile was also one that meant to say - "No worries, I've done this before," and sure enough, she got down at the crowded station, baby, potli and all without much fuss.
She was gone. But her expression, her smile stayed on. She was gone. But not before she got me thinking on the strength that women possess. She probably had a stackful of vessels to sell in the area or possibly some heavy plastic items - but her body language, her poise gave the story of a woman who knew what she was doing and was content - not because she had everything in life, but because she was holding everything she had in her arms - her sleeping child.
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