Beauty in Toil: Beneath the Surface of Hardship and the Layers of Class Perception
Let’s look beyond superficial judgements
Her hands, rough and cracked, with dirt wedged between their crevices, yet look beautiful and stand out as symbols of toil, dedication and hardwork. They are a testament to her relentless labor just to keep her children’s bellies full.
She doesn’t exude a sweet fragrance; instead, there’s the earthy scent of cows from milking and caring for them in order to meet her family’s needs. Strange enough, I even find that scent endearing.
As she mops the floor and cleans the house, her sweat glistens in the hot weather at Srinagar, forming dew drops around her flushed face. When she sees me, she always smiles with a grin that spreads from ear to ear, revealing her off-white teeth, plugged in her perfectly aligned jaws.
I remember a day during lunchtime when I brought drinking water poured into our daily ware ‘copper glasses’. One of my close relatives had come to our home for lunch that day. As she was distributing the glasses to everyone, at the moment when she had to pass a glass to the one being discussed, she gestured with her eyes, as if to say, “She is also going to drink from this glass.” It was as if she believed the woman was afflicted with some kind of viral infection that could spread even if we washed the glass thoroughly with soap.
This incident made me reflect on a troubling thought: what if I were to become poor and find myself in the same condition as this woman? Would my relative also avoid sharing utensils and other items with me?
And , if I compare my relative’s financial standing to mine, she happens to be poorer. Then, shouldn’t I also be entitled to the somewhat similar (if not completely but stemming from the same rationale) prejuicial treatment against her on account of our economic class difference?
I recall the discomfort I felt when my cousin showed me a video of my close female relatives standing with their arms draped over each other’s shoulders for the traditional wanwun at my brother’s nikkah. She approached one of them, only to be met with a turned shoulder and a face turned away in pride. I believe wanwun is supposed to symbolise connection, unity and equality, but all gone to waste on that Day.
I decided to hug her tight before leaving for the Masjid on ‘my day’ in front of that same relative. Please do not get me wrong, I ain’t pious. This gesture was not one of love and respect for ‘her’ but, simply the depiction of my rage against my relative in a passive-aggressive way.
‘SHE’ had some urgent piece of work and couldn’t attend the occasion. But there was something else and even more interesting in store!
Guess what?
Months later, this same relative had broken her shoulder after falling from her bed. That news was strangely gratifying. I derived a sadistic pleasure from it.
It was music to my ears!
