Three months had passed, yet my manager hadn’t said a word about my increment. Still, I kept working with the hope that he would remember it someday.
As usual, I was busy when an old woman walked in. I greeted her with a smile, and she smiled back before placing her order quickly. Then she opened a book and lost herself into its pages. I frowned a little, people rarely brought books here, let alone got lost in them. Most just focused on their food.
I served her order, and even while eating she remained completely focused on the book. After a while, she checked her watch, closed the book halfway, and asked for the bill in a hurry. I quickly handed it over and she placed the money along with a tip. Holding her book close to her chest she walked out briskly. I smiled as her figure disappeared through the door before moving to the next table.
During my break, I sat on the small stool and counted the tips. One particular note caught my attention, a wrinkled ten-rupee note the old woman had given me. I pressed it flat, folded it neatly with the rest of the money, and slipped it into my pocket. After a quick sip of tea to recharge myself, I returned to work.
When the shift finally ended, Shanthi sister and I walked out of the restaurant together. Halfway down the street, she received a call. After listening for a moment, she cut the call with a smile as we climbed into a share auto.
“Meera, my neighbor called. She works in a catering company. They need female helpers for an order this Sunday. They’ll pay around eight hundred to a thousand rupees. We have to report by four, and the work will end by ten-thirty. Do you want to join?” she asked.
I was over the moon. “Of course I’ll come. My shift at the restaurant ends by twelve, so I’ll be free after that.” I said but Shanthi sister shook her head immediately.
“Meera, did you forget you were once admitted to the hospital for not resting properly? You can either work at the restaurant or the catering service on Sunday, not both. You need rest.” she said strictly.
I held her hand gently. “Sister, please. I’ll have three hours to rest and that would be more than enough. And a thousand rupees would really help me. I could even buy some fruits for myself.” i pleaded and as always, she couldn’t refuse when I spoke like that, and she finally agreed.
I silently wished that I would get more such opportunities. Even a little extra work could help me save something for myself.
I arrived at the corner of the street after bidding goodbye to Shanthi sister and noticed a man standing at the same spot again. I had seen him there more than a few times recently. His eyes always lingered on me, and though I had my doubts earlier, today I was sure he was looking directly at me.
The street was deserted, and it was just the two of us, me walking, and him leaning casually against the electric post… even smiling. I ignored him and quickened my pace.
Two days later, the same old lady returned to the restaurant, this time with a different book, larger than the last one. My curiosity grew.
“What was she reading that kept her so engrossed every single time?”
She placed her order quickly, choosing something that would be served fast. Like before, she seemed to be in a hurry. She finished her breakfast, tucked the book under her arm, and walked out. I picked up the five-rupee coin she had left as a tip and smiled as I dropped it into my pocket.
“Next time, I’ll definitely ask her about that book,” I promised myself and went back to work.
At night, when I returned home, I saw the same man at the same spot again. A strange restlessness spread through me. I walked faster, almost ran the last few steps, and shut the door behind me.
“Who is he? Is he following me? Maybe I should keep some mirchi powder with me… just in case.” I thought.
The old lady didn’t come for the next three days, but the man appeared every single night, standing in the same place without fail. I ignored him outwardly, but inside, I stayed alert, clutching the mirchi powder in my hand until I reached home safely.
On Sunday, after finishing my restaurant shift, I washed my clothes and cleaned the house. I checked the time and I had thirty minutes left before Shanthi sister would come to pick me up.
I lay down on the mattress, feeling the dull ache in my feet.
“I should do something for this pain once I return from work,” I thought, closing my eyes for a short rest.
A knock on the door woke me up. I rubbed my eyes, opened it, and found Shanthi sister standing there, already dressed and ready to leave. I quickly adjusted my hair, grabbed my handbag, and stepped out, locking the door behind me.
A few more ladies were waiting at the corner of the street, and all of us squeezed into a share auto to reach the venue. It was a huge wedding hall, grand, beautifully lit, and decorated so elegantly that we all fell silent for a moment, staring in awe.
Shanthi sister’s neighbor guided us to the supervisor and introduced us.
“The job is only for today. There is no assurance that we will hire you permanently. Make sure there are no complaints. You will be paid only after the work is completed. Even a single complaint means no payment. So be careful. You’ll be assigned your duties now.” he said sternly and we all nodded obediently.
They handed us uniform shirts and hair caps. A lady came around with a list and assigned each of us our jobs. Shanthi sister and I were placed together, we had to serve sweets and water bottles.
By six o’clock, the party began, and guests started pouring in nonstop. From that moment, there wasn’t a single second to rest. We kept serving, walking back and forth, making sure every table had what they needed. My legs were screaming, but I pushed through.
When the event finally ended, all the staff were given food. I ate happily, after a long time, I got to taste so many different varieties. All of us felt the same joy, moments like these were rare for people like us.
In the end, the supervisor handed us our payment.
We received ₹800 each, though I had expected ₹1000. Still, I was happy that I could earn ₹800 in just a few hours. They even gave us packed food and snacks since there was plenty left over.
By the time we reached home, it was 11:30. I immediately boiled some water and soaked my feet to ease the pain. Some staff at the restaurant used to joke that people who stand for long hours get varicose veins, and ever since hearing that, I had been scared.
After ten minutes, when the water turned cold, I lay down on the mattress and fell asleep instantly from exhaustion.
The next morning I reached the restaurant and was busy when I saw the same old lady again, holding a book, this time a different one. I couldn’t see the cover, but curiosity tugged at me. I smiled at her, holding the order gadget ready.
“One plate idly and a vada,” she said. I quickly went to the kitchen, collected the order, and placed it before her.
“Madam… if you don’t mind… may I know what book you are reading? I’ve noticed you carrying a different-sized book every time, and I’m intrigued how you finish them so quickly,” I asked, nervously.
She smiled and placed the book down. Only then did I see the cover and I froze. It was a university Arts textbook. She chuckled, maybe she noticed my reaction.
“I’ll tell you… but not now. I’ll come back for lunch and we’ll talk. I have to hurry now,” she said.
I nodded, and she finished her breakfast quickly, leaving a ten-rupee note as tip before walking out.
I continued my work, but my mind kept wandering back to her. I was curious and strangely excited to hear what she had to say.
At 2 p.m., she returned. I showed her a table and poured water, noticing how tired she looked.
“Get me a fried rice,” she said.
I entered the order into the gadget and stood beside her, waiting.
“I’m doing my second-year Bachelor’s degree in Arts and Science. My exams are going on, so I was doing a last-minute revision before each one. I have two more exam left for this semester.” she said and I stared at her in shock.
She looked around sixty years old and the fact that she was studying at this age left me speechless.
“I know what you’re thinking. I’m Aruna… 57 years old. My husband passed away 15 years ago. I worked day and night to raise my two children. They’re married now and well-settled. For the first time in years, I had nothing to do. And that’s when I realized, I had stopped to think about myself… about the dreams I had buried deep inside.” she said gently. Her voice was soft but her eyes were bright.
“I always wanted to be a teacher. I loved studying. But my parents got me married early, and college was never an option. Now, at 57, I thought, why shouldn’t I live a few years for myself? So I joined distance education. I finished my first year without a single arrear. And I won’t stop with this UG degree. My old passion has become a new hunger… and it won’t rest until I complete my master’s.” she said further and I didn’t just look at her……I admired her. This woman had carried the weight of a family her entire life, and now she was running toward her dream with all her strength.
“But… what will you do with the degree at this age? I mean…..sorry, I don’t mean to discourage you. I’m just amazed at your passion,” I stuttered.
She smiled, nodding as if she understood everything I was trying to say.
“I may not work with this degree, but I will have the satisfaction of knowing I didn’t die just as a daughter to my parents, a wife to my husband, or a mother to my children. I will die as Aruna….a woman who faced every challenge and still had the courage to live for herself. My heart will be at peace knowing I fulfilled my dream.” she said and something sharp pricked inside my chest.
“How do you manage the fees? Do your children help?” I asked and she instantly shook her head.
“Where there is a will, there is always a way. I had a little money saved for myself. And today’s generation is lucky, there are so many trusts willing to help. NGOs that support women who want even a small ray of hope. One such NGO helped me with part of my fees.” she said and hearing her words my heart began beating differently, as though this old woman had touched something in me….something I had forgotten about myself.
I thanked her and served her lunch. After she left, I opened the bill book. This time instead of money, inside was a card with the name and contact number of an NGO.
I held the little card in my hand, and it felt like I was holding something priceless… something that woke up my sleeping soul.
For the first time in years, I felt a spark …..a reminder that even my dreams still had life…
and maybe, it wasn’t too late for me to chase them too.
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