This Is Your Real Life In India

Life in India isn’t easy for an average person. You don’t think about apps and smartphones — you just work to make the ends meet.

This is a perspective of a woman who cooks for living.

You wake up at six to check your granddaughter’s fever. She’s 103°F but you can’t care for her today, you already took a day off. You begin your day by going to the first house to cook for. Unlike San Fransisco, you can’t complain about your 80hrs work weeks, you don’t even know what that means. You are old but you continue working hard; maybe you’ll have to for quite a long time still.

Your phone rings but you don’t know who is calling because you can’t read that much. You barely know how to decipher a familiar sequence of glyphs. Education wasn’t important in your days, much less education of a woman. “I’m on the way,” you answer under the scorching summer heat, after recognising the familiar voice. The walk is 2KM but you do it every day because any convenient transport would be an extravagant expense.

The cooking for the first house is over but the pay for a single one is barely enough, you have to work for three more to make the ends meet. You reach the last house which is bachelors’ shared flat. You see people there, working fewer hours and earning immensely more. You assume that it’s the education that makes the difference; you have to because you can’t picture anything else. Perhaps, that’s why you are so motivated to get your kids the best education because you hope that they’ll enjoy these privileges.

“My son is still studying but is there any vacancy at your company? He’s is doing a course in ‘computers’.”

“I’ll try but I don’t think there is,” I say. It’s difficult to communicate the harsh truth — the market isn’t just great for any average Indian CS graduate.

After cooking is done, you ask — “Do you have any laptop that you can give me? My son needs it for his course.”. I had one but it was slow as hell but you don’t care about that, you just need one that works, even if barely at all.

“Not right now but I’ll try,” I say.

It’s 1PM and it’s time to head back to home. It’s burning like hell but you are accustomed to walking under it. You reach home but you can’t rest for long. You have to repeat the same exhausting journey a few hours later for cooking dinner. The water cooler is hardly effective in Delhi’s heat but you can’t imagine any alternative.

It’s 9PM and the dinner for the last house is done. It’s Friday night but that doesn’t mean anything to you. You have to work again tomorrow and even on Sunday. The few holidays you get are lost in things you have no control over. Your granddaughter is still feverish, you’ll need to squeeze sometime tomorrow to get her to see a decent physician.

The next day starts at five as you want to find time to see the doctor.

The work today is even more gruelling because it’s hot and humid. The last house wants something special today. You happily oblige and spend an hour cooking the dish.

Your life is hard and has always been but it’s much better than being a labourer in your village. You struggle but you are still ahead of more than half of the people in the country who battle with having food and a proper roof everyday.

“Did you try asking for that laptop?” you ask.

“I did but I’ll try more,” I say with a pinch of guilt for not trying enough. Will a laptop solve your problems in the long term? Maybe not! but it’s something that gives you hope — that someday your kids will do better; that maybe you won’t have to work that hard. As David Mamet put it, “We all hope. It’s what keeps us alive.”