The children played in the courtyard, oblivious of their tattered clothes, while the old woman cried in the corner of the hut, as this morning's visuals haunted her.

She had seen children of vicinity, happily heading towards their school. Wearing well-ironed uniforms, carrying fancy backpacks and tiffin with bottles hanging in their neck.

She didn't feel jealous, but self-pity...

After sobbing her heart fully, as she looked outside, the children were playing steppe in the kaccha courtyard, with bare feet and the vision of a mother shook her to the core.

She had to do something.

Realising, that no one would come to her help or rescue, she decided to take up another job along with that of a maid.

Despite her fragile frame, threatening to give way to her bones, her resolve to provide the best for her children was strong.

That evening, as the maids collected, one of them being nice and having more work, used to bring tea for all.

The old woman expressed her pitiable condition and resolve to provide her children with education.

After an exchange of sympathetic words, and sharing their similar plight, that she doesn't ask for favour from them, one of them suggested that she take up sewing as a part-time profession...

The material required would be costly, but the only way seemed to grow was to invest.

To invest, money was something, she didn't have, but the effort and hard labour, were what she didn't mind...

The next day she approached the local Taylor and requested him to keep her as part-time assistant, despite swearing that she would do the best, beyond her abilities, he denied saying that he didn't require any.

But seeing her pitiable condition, he offered her the leftout cuttings of clothes a few reels, and a sewing pin.

She happily took her treasure, thanking him a million times, and cautiously reached home...

Looking at the bright colours of fabric pieces, she wondered what to start sewing...

Her first instinct was to patch up her children's clothes, but she had to earn, them for their sake and future.

After much thought, she decided to make small potlis...

Maybe the memsaabs could find them fancy and match them with their sarees...

She started to overwork, exhausted herself the whole night, and went to Clean houses in the morning...

After an ordeal of about a month, she was proud of her collection.

As she showed them off to other maids, they praised her immensely...

With loads of courage, she decided to showcase her potlis to the madamjis...

She didn't know what to price them, but getting anything in monetary was a pot of gold for her...

The first woman smiled, picked one and casually looked at the mirror swinging and politely said that she had a similar one.

Undeterred, she went to the next house, their memsaab gave her a keyring in return for picking up a potli.

She mocked her own fate, for someone who had no locks, what good were the keyrings... Which keys were to hang in it, but she kept her thoughts to herself...

On and on she went, no dime earned...

Soon the weather turned windy, fearful of rain closing up and ruining her treasure, Anokhee went home quickly.

A few days passed, and the stones she had glued with cheap gum, started to fall, worried, she went back to the taylor and hoped he would buy it. Instead, he offered to give her more stitching material in return for the potlis.

Left option less, she came back home with more pieces of cloth...

The whole night she looked at them ...

Money attracts money, power attracts power, and poverty attracts all ills.

She carefully took out the pieces and patched her children's clothes in the fanciest of manner.

The exercise was fulfilling...

A few days later, as her children played in the courtyard, wearing their redone clothes, a group of memsaabs, walking around the road, stopped and looked curiously.

They muttered something amongst themselves and then called Anokhee out...

Scared that some more misfortune was to fall, she slowly came out.

They enquired if she had sewn those dresses, to which she meekly nodded.

"Make some for our children too...aur rate theek lgana"....they spoke louder as they marched ahead... Amused, but carrying a faded smile, Anokhee went inside nodding to herself.

Ways of life were mysterious, a pot of gold or dime with a hole, who knows, what and when heavens would rain your jholi with...

Continued in the next segment.

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