Meena

A young woman slips in and out of the vastly different worlds of the oldest profession and motherhood as she struggles to provide her child with a normal childhood and nurture hopes of a better future.

“Why do I have to go to school,” Meena asked, looking up at the reflection of her mother, Gulab, in the mirror.

“So that you can make a good life for yourself,” her mother replied as she combed out the ends of her daughter’s neat chotis now held together by red ribbons.

“But I like your life. I want to wear bindi, lipstick, and chudis like you and make all the men happy.”

“I want you to study and learn so that when you grow up you become a teacher like your Pramilaben and make all the children in this world happy. Now go get your school bag while I get your tiffin box ready.” Her mother said as she stood up.

“Have you made puris for me?” Meena asked hopefully.

“You can have puris for dinner tonight, her mother promised as they walked to the waiting rickshaw.

“Gulab, I have two hundred rupees,” the rickshaw wallah said, holding out the money with a meaningful leer.

Gulab smiled sweetly. She caressed the outstretched hand for one fleeting, electrifying moment before she took the money and casually tucked it in her blouse. “I have full booking today,” she said softly looking into his mesmerized eyes. “Come tomorrow after you take the children to school. Don’t be late. I will be waiting for you.”

The day went by in an endless stream of men looking for comfort. Gulab had barely enough time to take a bath and make puris for Meena before she heard the rickshaw horn. She ached all over. All she wanted to do was sleep, but she knew today was pay day and the line outside her house would go on late into the night.

“Do you know what happened in school today!” Meena announced proudly as she skipped into her mother’s outstretched arms. “I got hundred out of hundred in my spelling test!”

“Really,” Gulab exclaimed. Her daughter’s beautiful, excited voice instantly washed away the aches, pains, and desperate tiredness of the day.

“Yes, really. I told Pramilaben I want to be a teacher like her when I grow up. I want to make all the children in this world happy.” Meena went on, clutching her mother’s saree.

“What did Pramilaben say?”

“She said, when I grow up, she will give me her job because I will be the best teacher in the world. Did you make puris for me?”

“Yes, I did. Go wash your hands, change your clothes, and come to eat.”

Meena sat down to relate all the wonderful things that had happened at school. How she was the class monitor for the day, how she helped Pramilaben hand out the answer papers, how everyone admired her two chotis, how…

Gulab clung on to the day and her moments with Meena, pushing back the nights of endless lines. Tears started streaming down her face.

“Why are you crying?” Meena asked, touching her face.

“Because you make me so happy.”