Celebration Of Women

Early mornings are the best part of the day to get a good dose of quality sleep, replete with a handful of enchanting dreams, where we can dance around with our favourite film heroes to our hearts content, in exotic locations invisible to our entire family. But my mornings was always punctured by calling bells, courtesy my milk maid Swarnam. With my milk packets left outside my doorstep, either getting gobbled up by cats, dogs or even people, I was in no position to refuse her request of collecting it personally even if it was at the cost of my precious sleep and dreams.

There was no need for me to look at the clock when the calling bell rang early morning for I knew that it was Swarnam who was there with the milk packets. Even the 'Rock fort' Express, the first train entering Chennai to hoot loudly while traversing the level crossing near our house may miss the 5 am mark but not our dear Swarnam. With neither a trendiest watch with glowing dials on her wrist or even a minimal clock in her house, I always wondered the precision with which she kept up her time to the minute.

It was always a precious morning for me to be be greeted by Swarnam with her milk packets. The morning cool sea breeze was as soothing as Swarnams freshly scrubbed face with turmeric, a big kumkum adorning her forehead, her oiled hair tied neatly in to a small bun, her simple worn out cotton saree and a yellow thread adorning her neck to announce her marital status etc. There was not a pinch of gold on her, but her million dollar smile lit up the entire darkness of those early mornings. What an ugly contrast did I make, with my dishevelled look wearing an old nightie and unkept hair, for which I cringed in horror in front of her.

Her morning routine started at 4am a time where even the crows deep in slumber were lazy to caw. She would be ready in front of the milk booth with those stacked up milk cards and a big aluminium container big enough to hold 400 packets of milk.

With the cunning, young delivery boys manning the booth, on the look out for guniea pigs to offload those leaky milk packets, this old lady with poor eyesight was one, who had to be extremely cautious, for she had to face the ire of those furious customers for her negligence. Sometimes due to manipulation of those foxy boys, she had to fight with those young ones to get the right number of milk packets- a thankless job which she carried out with great elan. Once when cheated by the delivery boy, when nobody came to her rescue fearing repercussions from those goons, she took up the matter to the higher officials pointing out the corruption indulged by those boys and got them dismissed from their jobs- a valiant task for which there was not even a cursory feeling of gratitude from those customers, whom she served unflinchingly.

Fighting against the force of gravity, with the weight of the basket pulling her thin frame down, she had to crisscross the narrow roads and had to often climb two or even three floors, to reach the customers as there were no lifts during those times.

As soon as the distribution of milk was over she would get ready for another round of a tight schedule which involved working in homes as a maid servant, washing vessels, clothes, sweeping and swabbing. Some good Samaritans of those houses where she worked, were kind enough to offer her coffee, breakfast etc and offered her left over rice, sambar etc which she always carried it to feed her entire family. Thus she balanced the burden of carrying her entire family on her frail shoulders with not taking a single day of leave for any reason.

Every month the milk cards had to be renewed and with most of the card holders being office goers, Swarnam was left with the job of buying a huge collection of milk cards. Collecting all the money for the cards to be purchased, a huge amount of cash stashed tightly in her small cloth bag tied to her saree Pallu, she would come to me to help her with the settling of accounts. While me a graduate would be struggling with a calculator making silly errors in the process, she would be ahead in the calculations, mentally doing all the additions which perfectly matched my calculator's results. I just stood in awe of her amazing mathematical capabilities without being anywhere near a school.

Though she owned a house, her inebriated husband drove her out many times in the middle of the night, hitting her hard and tight. A mid night knock on my door, meant that it was Swarnam's reach out for me, for a safe abode in my house. Many times I feared her drunkard husband following her and hurling abuses at me, which turned true often, but she stood at the doorstep like a defending tigress. Fearing the safety of her family particularly her children, she refused to lodge a police complaint.

When there was a property tussle between her grown up children for a share of the house she owned, she broke down completely and for the first time she couldn't fight her own children for whom she had toiled her entire life. Unable to withstand the rigours of an unsympathetic life devoid of love and compassion, she passed away suddenly one day.

In our daily life we come across the likes of countless Swarnams whose life which ought to be one of inspiration and celebration, unfortunately finds no place among the covers of scores of women's magazines that preach feminism by publishing bikini clad pictures of women, citing women empowerment or even the visual media whose content hovers more around the likes of Aishwarya Rai or Sunny Leone. Many houses I changed and many women delivered milk but I am yet to find one like Swarnam. On this Women's International Day, I dedicate this Post to my dear Swarnam who stood as a symbol of courage, confidence and woman power, who led a tough life in which she saw hardly any money for all the hard work she put in, but with her sheer honesty, courage to speak up the truth, her impeccable character, her small frame standing against those mighty powers mired in corruption - she stands tall and mighty amidst a crazy society which celebrates money and affluence. Swarnam- Here I present you with the greatest International Woman's Award- posthumously. Ladies and gentlemen give her a thundering applause which sure would reach her wherever she is !