She was about 20 years of age; short, not too fair of skin but feisty looking. She was carrying one of those vending trays with a strap that goes across the neck and is fixed to the tray on the sides; it was laden with various types of cigarettes, both cheap and expensive, betel leaves, and other condiments that go with that habit; a red wet cloth covered the betel leaves. One will see a cigarette vendor on every street in this city, this city full of smokers and people who like to expel the red liquid in jets, a result of chewing betel leaf, putting maroon on things that were meant to be of a different colour.
I saw her this morning trying to take shelter in the parking area of the apartment building where I live; the rain had forced all to come in a rush. The man who sold cigarettes and betel leaves from his portable box-like hold-all, who had also taken refuge inside the parking lot, objected to her apparent intent of trespassing. He was the regular in front of the building; people selling things on the streets can be very territorial.
She turned towards him and from the mouth, red with betel leaf, came forth: “Will you pay for the cigarettes if they get wet?” She went back to attending to her tray and the man, dumbfounded, could only look at her; he was searching for things to say but they never formed in his head an apt retort. I smiled and liked the feisty nature that had come over her. All amidst her feverish activities, she caught my sight and I could see a slight smile at the corner of her mouth; she had recognised me.
It was a couple of months back, when spring was still in the air, that I had seen her for the first time. It was a pleasure walking in the mornings before the sun started going on its westward journey; full blown summer was still a week or two away. I was going past this place that starts selling breakfast even before the first light of day. There is always a crowd of cars and patrons even that early and hence, a few beggars. The regular beggars, professionals at their “job,” had never made any impression on me; I could walk past them without noticing their entreaties. But that morning I saw this girl, very young, and in a bedraggled state, a look of the lost about her.
She was dirty with her hair all matted, and she was wearing a top that was torn at several places, exposing parts of her that young girls are not wont to display. She didn’t beg, didn’t utter a word, just stood in front of the establishment with streams of tears running down her cheeks. No sound came from the sobs churning her insides into waves of convulsions; she looked hungry and had most likely been abused ruthlessly during the night.
Many would have called her a “street-walker” with its negative connotations and the stigma of “easy virtue.” I concede that she had walked the streets and several men might have copulated with her or even raped her but she had been taken advantage of and not paid for her apparent “disgrace.” The abuse she had received could be clearly visible from the fat lip; her lips looked too swollen to be considered natural.
A professional woman of the streets would have gone to the restaurant and bought her food with her head held high and given the acid tongue to anyone making a derogatory remark, but this girl just stood there. Three other beggars, two male and one female, all old, all looking very “religious,” gave her looks of scorn. I guess beggars have a sense of territory too.
I approached her and asked why she was crying. She could just stare and suffer from the convulsions of her upper body. I gave her some money, enough for a full meal, and left the scene with the serenity I had felt in the spring morning now totally gone, like the dew drops on a flower vanishing at the first harsh rays of the sun.
I liked her look that day; she seemed to have journeyed through the dark night of dire poverty and total annihilation, if not in totality. At least, she had gained confidence enough to stand on her own two feet. I didn’t want to know how she had achieved that though. The knowledge of her current improved state was enough good news for the day.
That was last year. I saw her again today and she still sells cigarettes, the bedraggled and beleaguered young girl early in the morning only a nightmare now. One is tempted to call her happy.
Too many people still live in the doldrums in this country but the state of wealth of the country and a per capita of over $1,300 tell us that that should not be the case. There is plenty of back-slapping going on about various social indicators showing a better state of affairs compared to the other countries in South Asia.
It is true that, over the last two decades, empowerment of women has shown remarkable progress, but it is yet to be anywhere near what’s demanded. In a patriarchal society it is difficult for women to earn their keep. Women are treated, mostly, as mothers and housekeepers, and that’s where the men would like to restrict them. It is a great achievement by women that at least a proportion of them has come out from those stereotypical classifications and has joined the work force. The growth of the garment industry has facilitated this to some degree, but that’s only a few million in a country of 160 million people, at least half of them women.
Women work in the agricultural sector but hardly get any recognition for their toil; it is expected that they will work in rice fields owned by the men of their family. The cost of production never includes the contribution of the labour of the women -- it is taken for granted.
Many non-government organisations are working to empower women and the government is doing its utmost, but it is obvious that what has been done to facilitate women to earn money, get wages, and achieve economic emancipation are far from enough.
When women are emancipated, they will stand on their own feet in society and will have a voice against discrimination. The days when a step outside the threshold of the domicile is “foreign” land for women are gone. And if the country does not do more to empower women, it will never achieve any of its goals. The societal mindset of treating women as liabilities and laggards has to be dumped like yesterday’s newspaper.
