Women and Their Simple Joys
December 2024 is drawing to a close. While scrolling through people's holiday updates and celebrations, I felt intense FOMO throughout the day. I reflected on my life, not stepping out of the house for months and not having many friends. Where could I find solace in this lonely existence? In times like these, I'm reminded of only one place: my comfort place, where I was born and raised for 21 years, my village.
Seeking a deep sense of belonging, I took a bus to my village. I spent time with the children and wanted to meet my aunts, but they were all working on the farms. So I headed there too. The winter coziness and sunny day made everything beautiful, though the long walk was tiring. The children played as we walked, and after 40 minutes, we finally reached the farms.
Everyone was busy working. Some women were tending to the chickpea farms, removing the plant tops to help them spread and take proper shape. (These tops are collected as green leafy vegetables for cooking a delicacy that Marathi people eagerly await each year. It's delightfully tangy when cooked with green chilies😋)
Nearby was a flower farm, a mesmerizing sight of white blooms. My aunts had started plucking flowers early so they wouldn't droop by the time they reached the market in the afternoon. They worked tirelessly, without complaints or expectations. I helped them pluck flowers, just as I used to do as a child when I'd visit the farm with my mother every Sunday. Back then, it was pure enjoyment. I never realized it would come to represent some of the most hardworking aspects of life when I grew up.
"Don't you get bored doing the same work every day? Don't you ever want a holiday?" I asked.
They laughed and replied, "Oh dear, why would we need holidays? Do we have office jobs? After a long day's work in the fields, if someone cooks and serves us hot food at home that itself is heaven for us."
Another aunt chimed in, "Yes, what more holidays could we need? For women like us, having someone invite us for a meal and serve us food after a tiring day, knowing we don't have to cook that's the greatest happiness we could ask for. What could be better than that?"
Their sentiment landed powerfully. How often do we take for granted the women in our lives, our mothers, sisters, wives, All the women who cook for us every single day? They show up in the kitchen whether they're tired, unwell, or overwhelmed. Sometimes the deepest truths come from the simplest conversations. As a woman myself, I struggled with the fact that there are so many aspects of their lives I couldn't even question, let alone change.
The simplicity and profound truth in their response touched me. Their joy wasn't in grand vacations or celebrations but in the simple pleasure of being served a warm meal after a day of honest work.
Their words struck me deeply. After feeling numb for a moment, I grasped the positivity and said, "Let's have a party today, then."
They laughed together and asked, "What kind?"
I said, "Just wait for a few hours."
I called my cousin to arrange some rice and other ingredients, saying we'd cook right there on the farm but none of the women would help with the cooking. He promised to prepare the best meal.
As we talked, they continued their work, having effortless conversations while plucking flowers with remarkable speed and precision. After working from 10 AM to 2 PM, lunch was ready. I called everyone over, and they sat with me, expressing their admiration for how I'd studied hard and seen the new world. They shared hopes of teaching their daughters to achieve similar opportunities.
We all sat together, eating from banana leaves, sharing a moment of simple, pure joy. What else can be as beautiful and pure as this?