This picture is just a representation
I am just like any one of you. I am one of the million-odd professionals in the country, working for a multi-national company, punching my 12 hours at work every day with a little bit of a social life afterwards. Little bit, not much because I send most of my money home to my parents.
I am a 22-year-old girl working for an MNC in Chennai and unlike my colleagues, who groan and complain about work, I am actually happy doing it. I am not saying this just like that. I am not the good-girl type, who would always say yes. It’s because I have seen the worst and been fortunate to come out of it.
Unlike most of my colleagues, I do not come from even a middle-class background. My family is very poor and I did not spend my childhood going to school and playing. At the age of eight, I was pulled out of school and put into a silver workshop to earn money. My younger brother was sick and the treatment was expensive. So my parents put me to work.
Work was hard. My parents woke me up early in the morning when it was still dark and we had to reach the workshop before the first light. In that semi-darkness we started working, all through the day, sitting in one place. My back hurt from bending and my fingers had many cuts. Except for a 15-minute lunch break when I had buttermilk and rice brought from home, we worked through the day until it was too dark to see. My hands and eyes ached by the time I reached home. All this work for Rs.700 a month.
But I did not cry. We had half days on Sundays and after helping with the household work, I would go over to my friend’s house next door to see what new chapter was taught in school. I was always a smart kid, my teachers had told me. I wanted to stay smart. Only education will make you smart, my teacher had said.
Now I could understand new chapters that were taught. Gradually, with time, my mind grew dull. It had by then been more than a year since I left school. Summer holidays were over and new classes had started. I didn’t understand the books anymore. My friends found new friends. I never really gave up thinking about my studies. Sitting in the workshop, I would see my friends go to school each day and really, really, really, want to go.
I did finally get the opportunity to study. It came three years later. By then I was 11 years old and a UNICEF worker came to me after my work. She had heard about me from my teacher and wanted to help. She asked me if I wanted to study. I said yes and that was it. That Sunday she came to my house and spoke to my parents for a long time. She convinced them to send me to school and even promised a small job.
The job was an easy one, compared to the silver workshop. I had to work for a few hours after school at a local bakery. I could not join school immediately though. When I quit school I was in class 4. All my friends were now in class 8. I did not want to join class 4 again. Instead I was put in a bridge course held by UNICEF itself. A little bit like night school. My teacher also helped. In the beginning, my mind felt like a bag of stones. I could not concentrate or learn. But soon, I started picking up things. In a year and a half, I was ready to join Class VIII.
It was very difficult at first. There was so much studies that I could not work in the bakery. My parents struggled, but I really, really wanted to study. Finally in Class IX, I scored 60%. I worked harder for my tenth and managed to score 75% while working at the bakery too. From there on, school, diploma college and now this job. I have come a long way. But I still have so many things to do. My parents now want me to get married. I don’t know. I think I will wait. I want to earn more.
Image Courtesy: Reuters
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