Happy Women's Day!

Swapna Soundarya - The Beauty of Dreams

 

New Delhi: My Home - the Agarwal Mansion

I looked down from above, while she worked.  The table was fully laid.  Swapna, our domestic help, ran around, placing a plate here, a fork there.  She looked up suddenly and smiled at me.

“Didi,” she said, “come down. Breakfast is ready.  I’ve made a new kind of pickle for gobhi paratha.  You’re going to love it.”  She flashed her smile again and disappeared into the kitchen.  My mother was yelling there.

“Why don’t you just do your work?  Jabbering away when there’s so much to be done!  Because of you, I’ll be delayed again.”

Swapna said, “I’m sorry! No aunty; you won’t be delayed.  Everything’s done.”

Fifteen minutes later, we were all seated around the table.  Super delicious parathas, spicy chutneys, Swapna’s special tangy pickle, perfectly flavored yogurt, hot beverages, cold fruit juice; everything was being relished by my family of 10.  Swapna fussed around, refilling the glasses, and serving the parathas. 

All of us were in a hurry to rush to schools, colleges, offices. There was hardly any conversation until my dad spoke.  “Swapna, when are your results due?”

“Tomorrow uncle.”

“How have you fared? “

“I will get above 60%, I’m sure of that,” she declared triumphantly!

My cousins and I looked up in surprise.  Here we were, slogging to score 10 GPAs and maximum percentile, while this girl seemed to be jumping for joy, for her 60 marks!  She could not enroll in any college! How would she manage?

But Swapna wasn’t worried.   Her neighbor ran a DTP Centre, where she had been promised a job.   His only condition was that she scored a 60% aggregate. 

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She came over, a fortnight later, laden with a red cardboard box filled with bright yellow laddoos; because she had scored an unbelievable 67% in her exams! She smiled broadly and went around coaxing everyone, to pick up a laddoo. My people balked at the idea of touching the gooey laddoos, but Swapna hardly realized it.  It was the most expensive treat her parents could afford and had sent over a huge box of it, just for my family. 

Later, while I sat on the rosewood swing in our patio, she sat at my feet and told me about her dreams...

The neighbor would be paying her 6000 rupees a month, to work as his assistant in the DTP center. Her eyes shone as she ticked off the wonderful things she would be doing with all that money.    It would take care of her brother’s school fees, help her dad in running the house and enable her to set aside a nest egg for some awesome jewelry she’d seen at the goldsmith’s shop near her one-room apartment...

I was dumbstruck.  Here I was, grumpy that my new party wear wasn’t classy enough (it had cost a little over one lakh rupees); and there was Swapna, so happy with so little!

Was it time for a reality check? I didn’t know. And I didn’t have the time to ponder about it, because, right then, there was a shout.  “Hey! C’mon! We are waiting. You don’t want to miss the beginning!” My cousin Roshan called from the car.

I hurriedly patted Swapna on her back and dashed out to join him and a dozen other friends and cousins; we were off to a movie and later, dinner at the newly opened snazzy restaurant nearby...  Swapna was forgotten.

       

Five years later...

I had got busy with my studies and was hardly in the country. I had come home for a holiday, before going back for my Master’s.  I needed to buy gifts for my classmates, Kundan jewelry, Bandhini stoles, Lucknowi Chikan apparel, and other such ethnic stuff.  I had accompanied my mother to the nearby mall and was busy digging into a shelf of colorful scarves when someone tapped my shoulder. 

For a second I couldn’t recognize her.  Then I realized it was my former maid, Swapna.    She was plumper; and she wore more ornaments, including a nose-stud.  The unmistakable black bead necklace indicated she was married.  Her hair was held in a knot encircled with jasmines.  She looked all prim and matronly in a starched cotton sari.

“Didi!” she said delightedly, when did you come back?  How is America?” I wanted to tell her that I was studying in Switzerland, but restrained myself.  For Swapna, probably, anyone going out of the country meant ‘going to America’.  

“It's fine,” I said and asked, “tell me, how are you? When did you get married?”

Instead of replying, she walked up to my mother; she seemed to be asking for something; entreating in fact, and pointing in my direction.  My mother smiled and nodded.  Swapna hurried back to me and said, “Aunty said yes! Please come. Come home! I stay very close by. Come and have a cup of coffee.”

I hesitated.  She said in a soft voice, “My daughter’s name is Latika!”  I stared at her, astonished. She had named her daughter after me! Why would she ever do that?!?

She held my hand and hurried along the aisles.  She walked up to the cash counter and spoke rapidly, to the girl on duty there.  The girl smiled, nodded, looked at me, and smiled again. She said “Hi!” shyly to me.  I said “Hi!” too. Whoever was she? Some relative of Swapna? Did I know her?

As we stepped out into the bright sunshine, she said, “I’ve got to get back in 45 minutes.  Vani, my friend back there, will stay on a little extra time if I’m late.”

“How does she know me?” I asked curiously.

“All my friends know about you, Didi! I have told them.”

I hadn’t given a thought to this girl, since I had last seen her five years ago; and she not only remembered me - her friends knew me too!

Her Home

We walked into a narrow by-lane that led to a narrower by-lane. Little children scampered in and out of houses.  Stray dogs rushed around, barking intermittently, women squatted on stone slabs, outside their homes and washed clothes piled in tubs, while others washed pots and pans.

Soapy water flowed onto the road and I gingerly walked ahead, careful to avoid getting my feet dirty.  Suddenly, an apartment complex loomed up and we were soon climbing up the steps.

Dust and grime adorned walls that badly needed a coat of paint; plaster seemed to be peeling off everywhere...  The aroma of spicy, pungent food, shouts of children, raised voices of adults, and the cacophony of TV channels, emanating from the tiny flats, made me nauseous. 

“Third floor,” announced Swapna, “we don’t have elevators here.” Her voice was embarrassed.

“That’s okay,” I said smiling at her.

She rang the bell of her flat.  A tall, slim man opened the door saying, “Hey, you are early!” and smiled.  Swapna giggled and said, “No, I have to go back. Madam’s daughter has come. She is Latika!” 

The man seemed awestruck.  He folded his hands and said, “Madame, so glad to meet you. Swapna admires you so much.  We named our daughter Latika, hoping she would grow up to be like you.”

I was speechless! What did Swapna see in me?  I looked around...

A tiny, squeaky clean apartment - the drawing-room was hardly a 9-foot square.  Cane furniture crowded the area. Prettily embroidered covers and table cloths could be seen all around, making the room appear bright and cheerful.  Yellow curtains with huge blue flowers covered the pelmet-less windows.  On a tiny table in the corner, were several framed pictures; but holding the pride of place was a group photo of my family, taken five years ago.  Swapna was in the picture too, standing slightly apart from all of us, hands behind her back and smiling, as always.

Swapna looked expectantly at me. Evidently, she was proud of her lovely home.

“Nice!” I said and meant it. 

“This is my husband, Raghu,” she introduced the man who hurried away to the kitchen. “The factory, in which he was working, closed down.  He’s looking for another job.  He’s quite optimistic that he will get one soon; within a month, in fact! Thank God for that! Anyway, we are able to manage because I earn reasonably well.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, “I get 15000 rupees! And until he starts working again, he has taken over the housework.”

 She winked at me and said, “What a relief for me!” 

Swapna raised her voice, “Latika come here!”

A chubby three-year-old walked out of the microscopic bedroom. “Say hello to Latika aunty.  You must be like her. Study well. Go to America and be a good girl.” 

The kid looked up at me. She kept staring, two fingers in her mouth.  Then she walked into the kitchen, completely ignoring me.  Raghu, by the time, had prepared a cup of steaming, hot coffee, just the way I liked it, and brought it along with a plate of glucose biscuits. 

For the next 20 minutes, both of them treated me as their guest of honor. Though it was uncomfortably warm in the ill-ventilated room, I hardly noticed it - with the attention and adulation that was being showered on me! When it was time to leave, Swapna led me to her kitchen. 

On the left was a high shelf, crowded with pictures of every god and goddess.  A small steel box contained vermillion powder. 

She dipped her ring finger in the powder and placed a spot on my forehead, saying, “I am extremely grateful that you agreed to come home. May you be as happy as I am!”

While we walked back to the mall, where my mother was waiting, I stole a glance at Swapna.  She was humming a little tune to herself, as she walked.  When I bid her farewell she said, “Please let me know when you come to India, next time.  We can go to the park with Latika Junior and have lots of fun!”

I nodded, smiled and impulsively hugged her, and said “Thank you!” before joining my mother.

I guess Swapna could not figure out why I thanked her.  It was not for the coffee and biscuits.                                         

Perspective

What did she see in me that I didn’t? What was so special about me? Yes; wonderful offers were waiting for me, as I had been a consistent topper. My dreams were big - multinational companies, prestigious appointments around the globe, and eventually, a CEO position... I had the drive, I had the guts.

But those dreams suddenly seemed to be disintegrating after meeting Swapna again.  I felt strangely empty.  Here was a woman, so happy with what life threw at her. Her optimism was infectious. 

All of a sudden, I knew exactly what I wanted to do...

I no longer wanted to travel the world, nor hobnob with the who’s who of the international management scene, nor shop at the trendiest outlets...

I just wanted to create more Swapnas. I wanted to create opportunities for women, here, in India - in my own country - for my own people...  I wanted them to come up in life, I wanted them to send their children to schools, good schools, and I wanted them to realize their dreams...

I felt exhilarated. I did the required research, discussed my ideas with my slightly skeptical, but nevertheless supportive family... And that was how the concept of ‘Swapna Soundarya’, the areca plate-making unit, was conceptualized...

It’s been three years, now, since I started this unit.

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Hexagonal, rectangular, circular, triangular, small, medium, large - the areca leaf plates were arranged according to shapes and sizes. The orders had been completed on time. I was relieved. The workers had been paid and were leaving the factory. 

I locked the premises and walked out into the late afternoon sunshine.

“Didi!” I heard a familiar voice.

I turned to see Swapna standing behind me.  When did she come here? She hadn’t informed me about her visit. She hugged me warmly and said, “I knew it, Didi, I knew it!  You are so special. And today the world knows it too.”

Whatever was she talking about, I wondered. She saw my bemused expression and said, “Oh! You haven’t heard yet! I’m sure your phone was switched off, while you were working. Oh my goodness! Didi, you have won the ‘Woman of the Year Award!! I took a bus as soon as I heard the news; wanted to congratulate you in person.”

I was stunned! This was so unexpected. 

Yes, I had given a couple of interviews; I’d explained about the alarming levels of poverty and illiteracy, the lack of basic amenities, the absence of a good school - all of which had convinced me to choose this village for my small-scale unit.

After my master's degree, I’d got plum offers, from around the world; I had turned them all down and had opted to come down to this village, to do what I felt compelled to do - much to the amazement of my family. I must have succeeded to an extent; going by the award that had just come my way.

I sent a silent prayer up to God, feeling grateful for the peculiar circumstances that had brought me here. A few years ago, it was unimaginable that I would be working in India, and that too in a remote village!

Yes, ten years ago, if you’d told me that I would be running a non-profit organization to help underprivileged women in the most backward of villages, I would’ve scoffed at the very thought of it.  But here I was, doing just that. 

I realize today, the undeniable truth - The most unexpected challenges come your way and how you accept them - that’s what Life is all about. Unexpected circumstances tend to rock you out of complacence and yet, you realize eventually, that it’s all for the best!

 ‘Swapna Soundarya’ - The Beauty of Dreams (in Sanskrit) - an apt name, I felt, for my dream project! Every new day brings new hope for someone out there and I am blessed to be a part of a movement that makes life more beautiful for so many women.

And it is the nondescript Swapna who somehow made it happen... She, however, has no inkling about that. There she stands, so happy for me, so proud of me...As always...

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(Extract from "The Statuette and Seven More Stories" by Radha Deep)