Working Woman

Every day I hear a 'story' or see a few minutes of a life I want to write about. Meanwhile, I am reading an incredibly critical book about Mother Teresa, and the western media's portrayal of Kolkata. Yet what I see and hear is real – so why should it not be shared? I am not intentionally portraying a desperate view of the city but I am also not living in the new apartment blocks of Salt Lake City or Tollygange, or eating in the many European styled, or rather 'priced' restaurants. Of course these areas do exist, but they are not part of my reality right now, so instead I will continue to relay the lives of just a few of the many people who live with less than their fair share of our World's resources.

There is a beautiful woman who finds me at the same time every afternoon, as I cross over from Free School Street towards the tourist territory of Sudder Street. The beautiful woman grabs my wrist and asks for money for her baby. Unfortunately over the years I have developed a rather passive attitude towards pro-active women with babies. The rumours of 'rent a baby' reflects the use of kids to release the pennies from the pockets of the blindest of pedestrians. These women use baby sitting time to earn some extra rupees from their apparently much increased desperate situation. Judgements aside, as at least they are taking initiative while playing their own Robin Hood. The way the beautiful woman grabs my wrist is persistent and forceful – again not the characteristics of the helpless female which might earn her a few more rupees if adopted along side the additional baby. At first I am always surprised at how beautiful she is, at her dominate energy. Not characteristics of a street 'victim'. I usually walk on, ignoring her pleas while playing the familiar record in my head that perhaps I should just stop and talk to her, although her attitude suggests she would not be satisfied with words. Judgments; perspectives; reality. This is her story:

The beautiful woman lives at Sealdagh station with her husband and children. The couple have had five children, the eldest of which is already eighteen. This seems incredible, as she is still so beautiful but then I remember her energy and power and how she is clearly a fighter. It also seems incomprehensible partly because it is not assumed that the couple were married when they were children – but they were. The beautiful woman's mother died when she was eleven. This was the age I was when my own mother died. At which point life continued as 'normal', as I still had another six years of school to finish. But this was not so for the beautiful woman. Her father arranged a marriage for her and she was quickly wed to the then fifteen year old husband. Her husband worked as a rickshaw wallah, pulling people around the city in the cumbersome wooden carriage. He would earn a average of 20 rupees (50 cents) a day.

One year ago her husband became sick and could no longer work. The responsibility fell on the still young and beautiful woman. She heard that good money could be made from begging on the tourist strip of Sudder Street, so for three days a week she moved away from her family to the center of the city to pester the foreigners, touting her youngest baby for sympathy fodder. She is smart and during the past year she has learned to speak English from her persistent interactions with the tourists. She says she likes the foreigners because they are kind, even the volunteers for the Missionaries of Charity, although she holds the 'Charity' responsible for the death of her ten year old child. She recalls how the child developed a fever and became increasingly ill. Not knowing where to go for help she camped outside of Sishu Bahavan asking for medicines. Her demands were repeatedly refuted and the child died.

The woman earns between 200 and 300 rupees ($5 to $7) during these few days of begging . Although this is a very meagre sum to support her family of six, it is double the salary which her husband used to bring home from a full weeks work of hard physical labour.

I'm glad she is able to support her family. Does it really matter that she is 'earning' her money through begging, rather than receiving state benefits or from working for a foreign NGO surviving on charitable donations?

Interestingly, I continue to justify my inaction, comfortable in the knowledge that someone else will give to her and alternatively I can give a 'gift' of food to someone more 'needy'.

The power of money. The power of 'giving' the basic requirements for life. The perspective of judgements. Reason, rational, reality. Truth and the inequality which leads to deception.