Gutsy Grandmas
My mother did not tell stories often, so on the rare occasions that she did, we sat up and listened. One time she told us about this great-grandmother of ours who was a young widow. And like widows back in the day, she had her head shaved and she wore the pallu (the tail end of her white saree) over her head to cover the baldness. Being a penniless widow, she lived with her brother and an extended family in a small tenement room of a three-story building in Mumbai. Every day was the same, an unchanging landscape; work, work, and more work, from the crack of dawn to dusk. There was water to be filled in pots at the bottom level of the building from the collective tap and hauled all the way to the third floor at four in the morning. There was an enormous amount of food to be cooked for breakfast over a single stove and food to be packed for lunch for the men who left for work early. And after they left, there was washing clothes, cleaning floors, mending clothes, and tending to children....