A working woman from the other side | Short Story

Let me ask you a question first. Who is a working woman? Someone who is an IT Professional, HR Manager or a teacher? Someone who goes to fancy business parks and works 9 to 5 in air conditioned offices?

Whether it’s a woman who does all the things I asked above or our Kaam wali aunty, I understand they are all “Working women”, and the struggles if not same, are similar. So with the story of Sumukhi, I hope you meet the working woman from the other side.

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Sumukhi’s smiling face never told that the period cramps were killings her inside. It felt like someone was stabbing her in the abdomen and twisting the knife for no reason! She constantly checked her saree because the thought of getting a blood stain on one of the three saree she owned, did not excite her one bit.

Standing at 8am in the 2 by 2 feet extension that she called a balcony, Sumukhi had already prepared the family’s breakfast and lunch. She decided to take a break while having her morning tea.

Shifting her body weight from one leg to the other, Sumukhi was lost in thoughts. Her uncle, aunt and their 3 children were to come next week, and she had no idea how to fit them in her 10 x 30 kholi which already housed a Television, one bed, one table, her old mother-in-law, husband and a son of 12 years.

She never made any attempts in hiding her disappointment about the condition of the house and the locality from her husband. The walls and ceilings seemed to be crumbling badly, supported by rotting wood beams that were crumbling more. Water was rationed and came only twice a day at the most inconvenient hours.

If the only window and main door were ever closed together, death due to suffocation was certain. It was definitely not the dream house she had dreamt of as a child.  

Nonetheless, this compromise was not new. Now she was used to the smell of open gutter that ran on the backside and the perpetual dampness of the floor. The poverty had penetrated her life so much, that she took every kind of neglect, every kind of insult with a pinch of salt.

Almost inaudible rustle in the room brought her back to reality. She could feel her bloated stomach churn like a maniac. Her menstrual discomfort was only getting worse with passing years and she had no idea what to do about them.

Realizing that a break of 10 minutes had extended up to 25 minutes, she immediately got to her feet and stood in front of the only mirror to be sure she looked decent before leaving for work.

Adjusting her bindi slightly to left, dabbing some moisturizer and patching a smile on her face, she picked up the vegetable basket, tucked it on the side of her waist, planted a kiss on her sleeping son and marched out of the house.

Famously known as the “Sabzi wali mousi”, Sumukhi was the first working woman of her family :)