She
loved to see the morning rays reflecting on the dew drops. Day
dreamer- she liked every sight on the way. Sometimes she assisted the news
paper boy to distribute the newspapers and was late for her class. When it
rained, she loved the rain drops and played in the rain. The cool
breeze of the dawn was her companion and she never missed to say hello to the
tea shop guy who was always busy making tea as she passed by his small
shop. But she was more fascinated by something else!
What else could be a more beautiful picture than a group
of ‘Pichippoo ladies’ on their way to cardamom plantations amidst the morning
rays peeping through the mist? Attired in ‘saree’ they always adorned their
neatly tied hair with Rose and Jasmine flowers. As they pass the junction and
curves their number slowly increased. A few waited for them in front of the tea
shop where the elder folks of the village had tea and made conference on the
top news of the day.
Though
they worked at cardamom plantations their lives were never as fragrant as
cardamom, nor were they the ‘queens’. They earned between Rs.60-70 per day and
there too discrimination surfaced to the fore- men were paid higher for the
same work... Carefully knitting the torn and worn out sarees, the Pichippoo
ladies saved their money to feed the mouths of the near and dear ones in her
family.
The
most innocent as well as interesting fact about them was that there were no
secrets. When they had something confidential to share, they murmured to each
other which eventually turned out to a big commotion. In fact their secrets
were never secrets and nothing was personal too. Sometimes they moaned about
their lazy, drunkard husbands and non obedient kids, sometimes about their
responsibilities and shortage of money. They even made public where they ‘hide’
the keys. They needed money not to lock it off in vaults but to fulfill their
basic necessities. They had very little gold but nobody took advantage of this.
She
used to meet them on her way to school. It was a sheer coincidence that their
work timings and her school timing were exactly the same. Every morning she
followed them. She was keen to listen to their conversations and most of the
time they spoke in an alien language which was beyond the comprehension of a
school kid. Their conversations were not about the root nodules, least common
multiples, or how water formed out of hydrogen and oxygen and hence she
understood very little. Nevertheless she followed the ‘Pichippoo’ fragrance. In
the evenings when they returned from the plantations; with a bundle of firewood
and groceries in their lunch bag, their face would be as dry as the flower on
their hair.
Even
after so many years I still remember the girl who silently waited for them on
the lonely school ground and it always brings a melancholic smile on my face
just because the girl who waited for them was me. It has been more than 13
years and things have changed. The misty climate no more exists and so are the
‘pichippoo’ ladies. No school kid walks to school today; instead they wait for
their school bus. Plantations are mechanized as they find it difficult to get
the labour force and the existing labourers are often given vehicle facilities
also. Though I could understand the development and growth, I felt sorry. I
missed something nostalgic for ever…
The
Pichippoo Ladies’ represented an era, when women in high ranges had to struggle
to make a living. They worked hard to make both ends meet and life made
them stronger. They symbolize a culture and the movement wherein the selfless
women in the high ranges flung opened their doors and went out to the
plantations in search of job. Limited were their dreams. All that
they wished was a piece of land, a shelter, better food and education to their
children- their dreams always confined to the four walls of their home.
It
was a really tough to live in such a world with an ‘economically poor’ label.
The climate is hard and harsh and so is the geography. The day starts at 4o’
clock in the morning and it most always ends by mid night. One needed to walk
miles as there were no proper roads and transportation facilities. There wasn’t
time to rest and relax and days were busy with work. Nutritious food was out of
question for them and days were spent starving. No electricity,
tele-communications and transportation facilities, and during monsoon and
winter, when life becomes impossible, and cold wind becomes the most spiteful
enemy as it freezes the bones- but still there were no complaints.
Many
a time I imagined my self in their place. How hard it is when you are made to
sit down on bare floors continuing to work without even a small break for more
than 8 hrs a day! They always complained about the persisting back pain
and ill health. As I followed them silently listening to their worries and
turmoil, I really wished –‘may all their dreams come true’ and dreamt of their
kids growing up, learning well and getting better jobs. I fancied about their
happy and prosperous old days.
I
am greatly indebted to them for teaching me- how important it is to study well
and find a job. The deep rooted sense of independence came from their
sufferings; perseverance and hard work were their ‘success mantra’ and they
made me think about the society, the people and their welfare. They inspired me
to go out and find my horizon. I respect their courage and sense of duty.
And the successful generation which followed is the result of their sweat and
toil.
Though
the Pichippo ladies were a sight of the past, I salute them for they walked
ahead in their life, leaving the imprints behind, and I just followed their
footsteps…
( written for the blog spicelegends.blogspot.com during my training at Spices Board)
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