An identity

“and yet she was leaving the world as a woman who had love and been loved back. she was leaving it as a friend, a companion, a guardian. a mother. a person of consequence at last.” ― Khaled Hosseini

 She held the round board with a stand displaying ‘Stop’ sign ,with her other hand she directed where we had to stop. We wondered whether we were in the wrong place as our minds were accustomed to a man stopping us rather than lady, but she stood there bearing a mature demeanour as we halted where she had directed us to. We have been to this fuel filling station commonly known as the petrol pump for the past eleven years . Each time we visited we found something new here. In the initial years this was the best petrol pump as the other one at Nigdi was always crowded. With the growth in the infra structure of the place and the population many petrol pumps and CNG centres have mushroomed up. This had a super bazaar too for a few years. My son was a little boy and so we would rush in to amuse him when the wait would be long. I learnt the art of cooking Manchurian from a young girl who managed this super bazaar. My son adored me for mastering this art and so this place is very close to my heart. Since the time a new petrol pump appeared close to home our visits here are infrequent. The girl was a young girl probably in her early twenties. She was neatly clad in a salwar kameez with her dupatta pinned . She had no expressions on her face but seemed confident.  She seemed educated, a little disinterested in the job. She left her place came near us to enquire the amount for which we wished fill fuel. She then slowly rolled the meter to zero and asked me to look at the amount as she filled petrol. I was so thrilled that I hopped out to click a photograph. I smiled and appreciated her on her new job. I felt I could  make her recognise her efforts. She now seemed happier and thanked me in English with a mam attached .She then dipped the wiper in diesel and swiped the glass as we left.

This brought to mind the dumping ground in Pradhikaran near the excise office and the PCMC lawn tennis ground, where the garbage transporting trucks are parked. Early morning at seven I have seen women rush to take their Garbage truck to collect garbage and transport it to this place. It was sheer delight watching women drive these vehicles.  

The newly built skeleton of the building brought about memories of a women sieving sand for concrete while  the men looked on. I was also reminded of the young lady who was skipping under the shade of a tree on a winter morning before her family roused outside a building site. Perhaps she was taking care of her health to serve her family and to work at the site.

The daily  news displayed the women from remote Rajasthan learning to make a solar circuit as a solution to overcome the electricity problem. The enthusiasm had lead this old lady to begin her studies too.Then there was this young girl who worked as a maid in my sister’s house as she continued her studies and now works for a call center. She found a role model in my sister and aims to join the reserve bank. There are young and old women working long hours, reaching home late but still not neglecting the families. 

There are women drivers ,pilots, directors and many more successful ladies.It reminded me of my mother speaking about an uniqueness,an individuality or an identity for everyone. She wanted to work but the responsibility of four kids never left time.With the rolling years my father rose on the corporal ladder and was posted at Delhi on a special mission for which he was awarded , but my mother stayed back to take care of our studies . She began feeling the loneliness and felt dejected many a times for the fact that she did not have an identity despite the fact that our individualities were a gift of her endowment. She voiced her thoughts saying that any vocation lends an identity to appreciate that one did not let life go by as stones and trees. It may be a service to the society or money for home, it could be service for the family,  a job does wonders in enhancing the potentials and turning life into a momentous one conferring  an uniqueness.

“The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.” ― Mahatma Gandhi