WHEEL OF FORTUNE
Winds of Change in an Iron Lady’s Life
Like a Treasure, Fatima Bi rummaged the rags.
Treasure, they were indeed, for her livelihood.
The torn pieces of cloth were old, new, dirty and clean.
She picked up the clean and new bits of fabric and swept her eyes carefully over them to see if there were remains of charred bits on them.
She scrutinized and kept the best ones aside. These would be just enough to make 5-6 baby Frocks.
At least a day’s meal was ‘assured’ for her family.
Her family consisted of four sons and a daughter.
Widow of a lesser-known Poet, Destiny chose to give Fatima Bi her share of hardships quite early in life. The struggle was bitter enough when she was widowed at an early age and left to fend for herself and her orphaned five children… Her tall, frail figure was as active as ever and beneath it lay, nerves of steel and an unending optimism….
Fatima Bi took everything in her stride to keep the kitchen fires burning.
The oil lamp which she lit every night to keep her nubile fingers tacking neat stitches stood by her over the days to come.
The entire night, till the wee hours of dawn, the faithful Oil lamp stood by her, supporting her task of Sewing baby Frocks that would be worn by equally poor children and provide two square meals for her and her children.
(Continued)
Early next morning, Fatima Bi wore her Burqa and in its neat folds she hid the baby Frocks. Stealthily she went to the Sethiya to deliver the Sewn Frocks.
The Sethiya, pleased with the job, paid her six Rupees.
The six rupees went into the Batua of this daughter-in-law of a respectable Kokni family of Bombay and widow of an anonymous poet, the mother of his five children.
On her way back to the mohalla, she passed by the community Trust office and on second thoughts went inside to meet the Manager in charge.
Rashida, the tall, robust woman who managed the Trust office, invited her in pleasantly. Both got on like old school mates !
Over a cup of tea, Fatima Bi requested Rashida to help her out of her misery by lending her a Sewing machine.
Rashida put her cup aside and with a friendly gesture promised to help her out.
Fatima Bi did not have to explain her condition as her over-worked fingers said it all.
The Wheel of the Sewing machine gained momentum and along with it, the years too matured her children into fine human beings.
Years later, the electric bulb replaced the faithful oil lamp and the tattered burqa had been replaced by a new one, this time not concealing the baby Frocks but also the dignity of a woman who belonged to a respectable family of India.
Necessity and commitment both worked hand in hand for Fatima Bi.
(Continued)
Her older sons took to working in small units and the older daughter helped in the household chores and baby-sitting the youngest son.
Fatima Bi now had enough time and money and hence to keep her
biological clock ticking in place, she joined the community Trust office as a Manager.
Women, young and old were her companions at the office where she helped each one to learn to Sew, embroider, darn… Besides, she patiently heard their woes too. Nerves of steel still intact, she heard each one out and helped them come to a solution with her excellent counselling skills and an empathy for every soul. Her experiences in life were a yardstick when it came to measuring sorrow and hardships.
On one such day, Fatima Bi saw the figure of a woman peeping through the door. Fatima Bi, adjusted her glasses and checked the gold-pocket watch from the pocket of her blouse.
‘Who on earth could be peeping at this hour, when the office would wind up for the day?’ she wondered.
Peeping from behind the door she saw Rashida.
Good Heavens!!Fatima Bi thought, fifteen years was a long time since Rashida had lent her the Sewing machine.
Poverty had taxed Rashida heavily and the once robust figure was now reduced to a frail one now. Grief had replaced the confidence she once had and the gold studded fingers were now barren, except for a few wrinkles.
As tea was called for, Rashida’s eyes swept across the room and on chair where she once presided. Melancholy was written all over her being.
(Continued)
Over tea and biscuits, Rashida narrated the mishaps that were a part of her life including the massive fire that broke down at their godown and looms in Bhiwandi.
Yet, Hope was the only fire that still burnt inside her.
Fatima Bi could clearly see the grief along with the optimism that she had seen in her own eyes in the mirror many seasons ago.
Now, the Wheel of Fortune changed for Fatima Bi.
With eyes down-cast, Rashida subtly asked Fatima Bi,
’Can you lend me a Sewing machine?’
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[DISCLAIMER: This Story is based on a Real incident in the life of my Grand Mother. It is set in the mid 1930s in Bombay (Mumbai)]
Warm Regards,
Dr. Kiran Gupta
Mumbai India
Mob :
+91 9819993742
E:
kirangupta2930@gmail.com
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