Tribute to a poor woman and her gift to us
Saturday, 6 November 2010
A poor woman used to come to our ancestral home at our 70-year-old house that once was a hall mark for the people of Dhaka city trying to find an address in and around Dhanmondi. The street on which stood our ancestral home was then called Central Road, now Shaheed Munier Chowdhury Sharak. I was then married with a two-and-a-half-year-old son (October/November 1970).
She was in her early thirties with a fragile body. Evidently she was suffering from malnutrition. With four children she had a hard time making a living. Her sick husband used to be a rickshawpuller earning meagre sums of money every now and then. We used to call her Sitarar Ma after her eldest daughter. Every day of the week she used to come to the house and sweep both our front and back yards. After about four hours' hard labour she used to go back to her shanty in a nearby 'Bustee' and return again to do some more chores for any of the three families that lived there including my parents'. My mother once in a while called her to give some food and blessed her for all the work she used to do for us.
To this day some 40 years after, now that she is gone tears roll down my eyes when I think of the misery and pain she had to undergo before she left for the world hereafter. She was a unique individual. Whether working under the scorching sun or the bitter cold of the winter wrapped in a saree that was torn at different places with no warm clothes on, when we called her to do something for us, the first thing I noticed was the smile that told a thousand stories. When I look around us today I am yet to find another Sitarar Ma who was poor, yet hard working, whether in distress and or otherwise yet so resolute, she was a woman who had more dignity about her than any of our modern day woman in her class or even beyond. One day she came to me with tears in her eyes asking for a loan of Taka two hundred saying the she needed the money badly and that she would return it in about two months' time. Frankly I forgot about the matter and was not expecting her to return. One day she stopped me on the staircase caught hold of my hands put the money into my right hand palm closed it and said, "Mona (that was how she used to address most of my family members including our other brothers and sisters) with tears in her eyes, please forgive me I am late by one month ". I was dumb founded and nearly burst into tears. I told myself, here is a woman to be reckoned with. During winter time she used to sweep fallen dry leaves of a number of mango and jackfruit trees that we had in our in yard, put them in a jute sack and took it home to use in her stove made of clay. Every time I passed by she gave me her usual smile.
A few years back as I was talking to my sister Ferdousi Majumder where Sitarar Ma's daughter is currently working as one of her aides at her place, on my enquiry she told me that she had passed away a few years ago. Indeed I was struck by grief.
Epilogue
I am almost certain we shall never come across the likes of Sitarar Ma again. She taught us, at least taught me, as to how to live with dignity amidst abject poverty. She taught us the value of keeping a commitment, a quality now absent amongst all classes of people here in this country. She showed us the path of wisdom even when one is illiterate. I wish we had more of her kind but not so poor. Today if you look around you will have a hard time locating one quite like Sitarar Ma. Most of our well-to-do, the rich and even the intellectuals do not possess such high value character traits. We may be poor but we need not behave poorly.
I wish Sitarar Ma was here today. I would do all to wipe her tears and sweat from her forehead. I and my family join me in my prayers wishing her the best in the world hereafter or wherever she might be.
May her soul rest in peace...
E-mail : chowdhury.shamsher@yahoo.com
She was in her early thirties with a fragile body. Evidently she was suffering from malnutrition. With four children she had a hard time making a living. Her sick husband used to be a rickshawpuller earning meagre sums of money every now and then. We used to call her Sitarar Ma after her eldest daughter. Every day of the week she used to come to the house and sweep both our front and back yards. After about four hours' hard labour she used to go back to her shanty in a nearby 'Bustee' and return again to do some more chores for any of the three families that lived there including my parents'. My mother once in a while called her to give some food and blessed her for all the work she used to do for us.
To this day some 40 years after, now that she is gone tears roll down my eyes when I think of the misery and pain she had to undergo before she left for the world hereafter. She was a unique individual. Whether working under the scorching sun or the bitter cold of the winter wrapped in a saree that was torn at different places with no warm clothes on, when we called her to do something for us, the first thing I noticed was the smile that told a thousand stories. When I look around us today I am yet to find another Sitarar Ma who was poor, yet hard working, whether in distress and or otherwise yet so resolute, she was a woman who had more dignity about her than any of our modern day woman in her class or even beyond. One day she came to me with tears in her eyes asking for a loan of Taka two hundred saying the she needed the money badly and that she would return it in about two months' time. Frankly I forgot about the matter and was not expecting her to return. One day she stopped me on the staircase caught hold of my hands put the money into my right hand palm closed it and said, "Mona (that was how she used to address most of my family members including our other brothers and sisters) with tears in her eyes, please forgive me I am late by one month ". I was dumb founded and nearly burst into tears. I told myself, here is a woman to be reckoned with. During winter time she used to sweep fallen dry leaves of a number of mango and jackfruit trees that we had in our in yard, put them in a jute sack and took it home to use in her stove made of clay. Every time I passed by she gave me her usual smile.
A few years back as I was talking to my sister Ferdousi Majumder where Sitarar Ma's daughter is currently working as one of her aides at her place, on my enquiry she told me that she had passed away a few years ago. Indeed I was struck by grief.
Epilogue
I am almost certain we shall never come across the likes of Sitarar Ma again. She taught us, at least taught me, as to how to live with dignity amidst abject poverty. She taught us the value of keeping a commitment, a quality now absent amongst all classes of people here in this country. She showed us the path of wisdom even when one is illiterate. I wish we had more of her kind but not so poor. Today if you look around you will have a hard time locating one quite like Sitarar Ma. Most of our well-to-do, the rich and even the intellectuals do not possess such high value character traits. We may be poor but we need not behave poorly.
I wish Sitarar Ma was here today. I would do all to wipe her tears and sweat from her forehead. I and my family join me in my prayers wishing her the best in the world hereafter or wherever she might be.
May her soul rest in peace...
E-mail : chowdhury.shamsher@yahoo.com