Some stories touch your heart. I wrote this over a period of a week, and in this one week, a lot changed for this wonderful woman. I'm writing this because as a person, and as a story, she has taught me to never give up.
Fathima comes across as a happy-go-lucky woman - she's always laughing, even when she's upset how life has shaped up for her. She's in her late forties, and she loves food. Her front two lower teeth are missing, and this makes me smile every time she decides to smile. She walks with a slight limp, and every time I tell her to lose some weight, she asks me coyly if she can finish off the coke in the fridge!
Fathima got married when she was 16, in 1983. And he was 32. "You must be aware, Muslim girls don't do further studies"
Fathima was born in Tiruchirappalli or Trichy, to lower middle-class parents. Trichy is a famous temple town in South India, with rich history - having been ruled by Pandyas, Pallavas, a few rulers in between and later by the British. Her entire family lived off making and selling agarbattis or incense sticks. It is extremely tedious work, beginning with cane processing. The mother and children would make agarbattis and the father would sell it. It would sell at around 4-5 INR for a dozen boxes of agarbattis. Whenever there was a temple festival, the sales would peak. But she says that is hardly enough to live a life with basic amenities.
After her marriage, she moved to Thanjavur, only an hour's drive away. Her new home was a rented room in a small house built of mud and straw. The rent was 70 INR a month. Her husband was a helper in a tea stall (chai ki dukaan) where he made tea. He used to earn 25 INR a day then. Fathima continued to make agarbattis.
She had her first child, a girl, in 1984. Since having a boy is considered better, she again tried for a baby. Towards the end of 1986, she had a baby boy. For the next 2 - 3 years, she was busy taking care of her children. After the birth of her son, she decided to undergo an operation, so she won't have any more children. Her husband didn't allow her.
Fathima comes across as a happy-go-lucky woman - she's always laughing, even when she's upset how life has shaped up for her. She's in her late forties, and she loves food. Her front two lower teeth are missing, and this makes me smile every time she decides to smile. She walks with a slight limp, and every time I tell her to lose some weight, she asks me coyly if she can finish off the coke in the fridge!
Fathima got married when she was 16, in 1983. And he was 32. "You must be aware, Muslim girls don't do further studies"
Fathima was born in Tiruchirappalli or Trichy, to lower middle-class parents. Trichy is a famous temple town in South India, with rich history - having been ruled by Pandyas, Pallavas, a few rulers in between and later by the British. Her entire family lived off making and selling agarbattis or incense sticks. It is extremely tedious work, beginning with cane processing. The mother and children would make agarbattis and the father would sell it. It would sell at around 4-5 INR for a dozen boxes of agarbattis. Whenever there was a temple festival, the sales would peak. But she says that is hardly enough to live a life with basic amenities.
After her marriage, she moved to Thanjavur, only an hour's drive away. Her new home was a rented room in a small house built of mud and straw. The rent was 70 INR a month. Her husband was a helper in a tea stall (chai ki dukaan) where he made tea. He used to earn 25 INR a day then. Fathima continued to make agarbattis.
She had her first child, a girl, in 1984. Since having a boy is considered better, she again tried for a baby. Towards the end of 1986, she had a baby boy. For the next 2 - 3 years, she was busy taking care of her children. After the birth of her son, she decided to undergo an operation, so she won't have any more children. Her husband didn't allow her.
So, she quietly went to the hospital and got herself operated. When her husband was called to sign, he lost his cool. But when she explained that they were poor, and it'll be very difficult to take care of more children, her husband obliged. Gradually, and occasionally, she started washing clothes and making masala for her landlords.
In 1988, she started thinking about her family's future. If they were to survive on a mere 700-800 INR a month, their lives would be worse than her own. She decided to ask her landlords if they knew anyone outside India who can arrange for her to leave the country. The landlord told her the first thing she would need is a passport. At that time, it cost around 200 INR. The entire landlord's family helped her with the money. Next step was to convince her husband. He was extremely hesitant as he suffered from appendicitis and needed to have a 3 INR tablet, thrice a day, every day, to suppress the pain. They couldn't afford a good doctor.
In 1988, she started thinking about her family's future. If they were to survive on a mere 700-800 INR a month, their lives would be worse than her own. She decided to ask her landlords if they knew anyone outside India who can arrange for her to leave the country. The landlord told her the first thing she would need is a passport. At that time, it cost around 200 INR. The entire landlord's family helped her with the money. Next step was to convince her husband. He was extremely hesitant as he suffered from appendicitis and needed to have a 3 INR tablet, thrice a day, every day, to suppress the pain. They couldn't afford a good doctor.
"woh age wala tha" she says.
I then asked her why she didn't marry someone younger. "My brother had a fall when he was 9. And my father was always sick. My mother had to sell all the gold she had to take care of them. So, when the time for my marriage came, we had nothing. Also, at that time, to marry a doctor or engineer, we had to give 25-50 tholas of gold." (1 thola = 11.3 grams)
Fathima was adamant about moving outside India, and again, her husband obliged. She finally got her passport in 1989 (which she had to hide in her neighbors house lest her husband should lose his temper some day and tear it apart). As she narrated this, she laughed.
Fathima was adamant about moving outside India, and again, her husband obliged. She finally got her passport in 1989 (which she had to hide in her neighbors house lest her husband should lose his temper some day and tear it apart). As she narrated this, she laughed.
Fathima had asked everyone she knew if they could get her some work outside. Someone suggested Kuwait. However, the Gulf war and consequent Iraqi invasion of Kuwait in 1990-91 made coming to the Middle East a very bad time.
Fathima grew more worried as her children were growing up, her husband's illness got worse and she had no job as such. In 1990, he passed away. He was admitted to the government hospital, but he refused surgery as he was scared. The doctor told him that this was his last chance, if he leaves now, getting an appointment for surgery another day will be impossible. Her husband, however, was obstinate. He died 20 days later.
She was stranded, and in shock. Gradually, with the help of a few relatives, she started doing odd jobs to earn some money. (During Ramadan, she would carry large buckets of water to the cooking area in the Masjid, where large quantities of food was made to be given away during Iftar. She also did house chores then.)
In August of 1991, she got her break. A family that had seen her while she was helping in the Masjid asked if she could provide help for house chores to an old Kuwaiti family. That same August, she came to Kuwait alone. She sent her children to her mother's house in Trichy. They seemed to understand, and neither cried. Within a few years, she got both her children here.
Around 1996, she fell in love with a driver which the Kuwaiti family she was working for knew. They married 2 years later but have no children of their own.
Today, her daughter is a nurse. Her son, unfortunately, failed the 10th boards, more than twice, and is now helping in a coffee shop in Kuwait.
Her daughter married and is now in India. She wants to come back to work in Kuwait, but her children are admitted to schools in India. Her daughter, last week, placed a condition to Fathima.
"If you want me to prosper and go back to Kuwait, you must come back and take care of my kids. I will work in Kuwait."
After almost 25 years in Kuwait, she's leaving this place soon. She says, "You fall prey to the needs of your children, no matter what you do for them, no matter how old you are. What can I do?"
She says she doesn't want to go back. She loves this place, and everything that comes with it. "Even though it's so hot here, all the buildings have AC. In my hometown, there's so much heat and illness. I don't want to go back Shruti. I like this place a lot. I have a fridge, a washing machine and a AC. I could never afford this back home."
Fathima's life is going to change.
PS - Nurses earn around 300 KD (60k INR) in Kuwait. Back in India, her daughter earns 10k INR. Bringing children here is very costly. Their playschool itself costs a lot. Fathima also earns around 200KD here, she is well settled, she does house chores in 3-4 houses and is quite satisfied with how life is right now currently.
I have italicized some sentences because for me, those were defining moments, where she could've chosen to not listen to her heart or mind, she could've given up, or simply just allowed life to take its own course. But she decided to take things in her control. That's strength. She had a clear vision for her children. They shouldn't have to make the sacrifices or struggle how she did.
Fathima grew more worried as her children were growing up, her husband's illness got worse and she had no job as such. In 1990, he passed away. He was admitted to the government hospital, but he refused surgery as he was scared. The doctor told him that this was his last chance, if he leaves now, getting an appointment for surgery another day will be impossible. Her husband, however, was obstinate. He died 20 days later.
She was stranded, and in shock. Gradually, with the help of a few relatives, she started doing odd jobs to earn some money. (During Ramadan, she would carry large buckets of water to the cooking area in the Masjid, where large quantities of food was made to be given away during Iftar. She also did house chores then.)
In August of 1991, she got her break. A family that had seen her while she was helping in the Masjid asked if she could provide help for house chores to an old Kuwaiti family. That same August, she came to Kuwait alone. She sent her children to her mother's house in Trichy. They seemed to understand, and neither cried. Within a few years, she got both her children here.
Around 1996, she fell in love with a driver which the Kuwaiti family she was working for knew. They married 2 years later but have no children of their own.
Today, her daughter is a nurse. Her son, unfortunately, failed the 10th boards, more than twice, and is now helping in a coffee shop in Kuwait.
Her daughter married and is now in India. She wants to come back to work in Kuwait, but her children are admitted to schools in India. Her daughter, last week, placed a condition to Fathima.
"If you want me to prosper and go back to Kuwait, you must come back and take care of my kids. I will work in Kuwait."
After almost 25 years in Kuwait, she's leaving this place soon. She says, "You fall prey to the needs of your children, no matter what you do for them, no matter how old you are. What can I do?"
She says she doesn't want to go back. She loves this place, and everything that comes with it. "Even though it's so hot here, all the buildings have AC. In my hometown, there's so much heat and illness. I don't want to go back Shruti. I like this place a lot. I have a fridge, a washing machine and a AC. I could never afford this back home."
Fathima's life is going to change.
PS - Nurses earn around 300 KD (60k INR) in Kuwait. Back in India, her daughter earns 10k INR. Bringing children here is very costly. Their playschool itself costs a lot. Fathima also earns around 200KD here, she is well settled, she does house chores in 3-4 houses and is quite satisfied with how life is right now currently.
I have italicized some sentences because for me, those were defining moments, where she could've chosen to not listen to her heart or mind, she could've given up, or simply just allowed life to take its own course. But she decided to take things in her control. That's strength. She had a clear vision for her children. They shouldn't have to make the sacrifices or struggle how she did.
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