The Three Women in my Life

“Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie.”

Many afternoons after I returned home from school in 2002, I would memorise lines from this wonderful English poem. I was hooked on it, thanks to my grandmother who still remembered the words and the tune of the poem which she studied in school.

I grew up in a middle-class household in Borivali, a northern suburb of Mumbai in the 1990s. I had working parents and mostly grew up in the company of two of my grandmothers – my father’s mother (Rekha) and his paternal aunt (Kamal). I never saw my grandfather as he passed away when my father was still very young. My mother (Anagha) worked as a school teacher and I spent my day before and after school with my grandmothers. This is the story of the three extraordinary women- Kamal, Rekha and Anagha who taught me how strong women can change the world around them.

Both my grandmothers- Kamal and Rekha had a very tough childhood and had seen immense hardships as they grew up- poor financial background, family feuds, patriarchal norms and the struggle to balance work and the huge burden of responsibility that comes with living in a joint family. They grew up in pre-independence India and their struggles coincided with the country’s plight under British rule. The family lived in Girgaon (in Central Bombay) and at a time when women were rarely allowed to pursue higher education, Kamal completed her Bachelor of Arts (BA) from Wilson College. She studied the arts with English as a medium of instruction at a time when no one from my family understood or spoke the language. Her mother Anandibai was a stern mother who brought up three girls and a boy and gave them good education even as her husband’s income was never enough to make ends meet. She saved every rupee that came in the house so that she could educate her children.

Most of Kamal’s college friends were men as there were very few women in her final year BA class- some had even dropped out during these years after they got married. She was always the top of class and landed a nice job as a clerk in Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) the administrative body that runs the civic functioning of Mumbai. In the next few years, with her dedication and smartness, Kamal rose to the ranks of the head clerk and had several clerks, stenographers and support staff working under her.

In her career as a head clerk, she groomed many of her female colleagues. She asked them to shun patriarchal norms and encouraged them to dream big. Under her guidance, a large number of women pursued higher education and many got promotions or better placements in government, banks and other public sector undertakings. Kamal’s father passed away early and she had to bear the responsibility of taking care of her mother and her siblings along with running the household financially. She paid for their education and then subsequently their marriages. By the time she completed most of her responsibilities, it was too late to get suitors for marriage. For Kamal, it was not a big deal. She was passionate about traveling and decided to spend her life traveling and making memories from those travels. She covered all of India and also traveled to international destinations- Europe, Japan, China, Nepal, Bhutan and Australia to name a few. Kamal and her group of women friends traveled to the most scenic places and brought back small souvenirs for their Indian families every year. Even today, some of the lovely presents that Kamal got back home from her travels are treasured by my family- saltwater pearls from Belgium, chopsticks from Japan and rugs from the middle east.

Kamal lived with her brother Gangadhar (my grandfather), his wife Rekha (my grandmother) and her three children (my father and two aunts) in a 10×10 room of a chawl in Girgaon. The chawls are an important part of Mumbai’s subculture. Commonly arranged around a central courtyard, they feature rooms clustered along a corridor. These rooms are designed as individual units, sharing bathrooms among the occupants of each floor. Life in the chawl was tough but vibrant. There was no space to stretch legs as the houses were so small but families always had space in their hearts to welcome guests and celebrate festivals with great enthusiasm and cheer. At some point, Kamal’s family-owned chawl room housed 13 people in less than 200 square feet. Soon after Rekha’s marriage, Kamal pushed her to study nursing and she helped her get a job in a government hospital. Even after having three children, Rekha continued to work in the maternity ward of a hospital, often taking up night shifts so that she could spend more time with my father and aunts. She lost her husband when her children were very young but Kamal’s support helped her raise her children well while balancing her career.

As the children were studying, Kamal and Rekha felt the need to give them a bigger house as the chawl room barely had any place where they could study and relax. Buying a big house was not possible as resources were limited. Kamal got to know about an upcoming real estate project in Borivali, a suburb adjoining the Sanjay Gandhi National Park. She decided to invest in the project but was ridiculed by her colleagues and relatives- will you leave the city and move to a forest now? they asked. She was unperturbed. She sold all the gold jewellery she owned and also diluted all her savings to buy the plot of land in 1973. She stood all night on the street as the housing society would have a first-come-first-serve allotment for plots at 10 am the next day and she wanted to make sure she got the best plot available.

The Bhatkhandes and the children moved to Borivali in 1975. They were elated to see the new house- a 3,000 square feet plot with lots of open space around. Kamal and Rekha traveled each day to go to their workplace. It now took two hours for the journey that they would otherwise complete on foot from their old house in 20 mins. But the sacrifice was worth it. My father and aunts completed their college and got good jobs in this house. Kamal and Rekha nurtured a small garden around the house. They saved once again and my aunts got a small yet special farewell when they got married. My father got married in 1990 and my mother Anagha was a new addition to the family. Kamal was happy to get an educated daughter-in-law. My mother was a graduate then. After she got married, Rekha and Kamal supported her to pursue a degree in Education. Kamal accompanied my mother for her admissions. The clerk at the admission counter asked for the full fees in cash at once. Since it was a bank holiday, my mother did not have enough cash. The college was unwilling to book a seat in the absence of full payment. At that point, Kamal went to the authorities, removed her gold chain and asked them to keep it as a security. “We will come and pay the full amount tomorrow and you can keep this till then,” she said. The management felt ashamed, refused to take it and decided to give a day’s time to my mother to come with the full amount. My mother completed her degree and became a school teacher. She continued to work even after I was born a year later and Kamal and Rekha, who had retired from service by then, spent a huge part of their time taking care of me.

Kamal was a voracious reader- she read anything and everything- English, Marathi, fiction, non -fiction, magazines, newspapers. Every morning she and Rekha would wake up early, help my mother in chores, draped in soft cotton sarees. Old age came with health ailments- difficulty in walking and high blood pressure but their spirits were still very high. Kamal ran a small business post-retirement from the house. She sold steel utensils and procured the material from big wholesalers. She traveled in the crowded Mumbai local from South Mumbai to bring the stock which she sold easily with her networks and goodwill. In 2004, when I was in Grade 6, I lost my father to Cerebral Malaria. He was sick for over a year and in a coma for almost 9 months. It was sudden. He was with us, laughing, watching TV and recovering from a fever one day. The next day, he was in a vegetative state and stayed like that for months before his body gave in. For my mother, it was a traumatic event. But also, for Kamal and Rekha who were growing old and frail by then- to see their son die at a young age like his own father. They cried a lot the day my father passed away. But they stood up once again to comfort my mother. They were a rock-solid support to her and their mere presence made her feel that she needs to stay tough once again.

The three women brought me up in the middle of all the hardships that came with losing the male member in the family. They divided chores and expenses. They made lists and schedules. They sent me to the best school and served hot meals to me everyday. Every month, they took me out and shopped for me. After that, they treated me to sugarcane juice and pav bhaji. They made my childhood enjoyable and made me forget the fact that I did not have a father anymore. My mother became more confident than she ever was because she always had two loving women and a young daughter to come home to. She did everything from cooking a delicious meal to fixing a light bulb with the same ease and precision.

Kamal’s stories enlightened me on erstwhile Bombay, about pre-independence India and about art and poetry. Rekha’s stories of resilience while balancing home and a difficult work front taught me the importance of determination and dreaming big. My mother’s unwavering passion for her work and her hobbies taught me how to rise up from tough situations. Collectively, they taught me what fierce women could do. They sowed the seeds of feminism without uttering the word even once. We lost Kamal when I was in college and Rekha five years ago. Rekha saw me become a journalist and spoke about me proudly with my relatives. She saw my partner Sanjay and would have tears in her eyes when she told him the stories of Kamal and my father.

In 2018, my mother was detected with last stage blood cancer. The cancer had spread in her body by the time the doctors detected it. They said that they would do their best to save her but could not guarantee anything as it had reached the last stage. In the face of adversity, my mother did not shed a single tear. During the course of her treatment which lasted for 6 months, she braved it all- endless chemotherapy sessions that lasted for many days, the horrible side effects of the treatment, transfusions, tests, steroids, everything. Her will and resilience helped her fight the deadly disease and doctors too were pleasantly surprised to see her recover so well. During these months, Rekha was bedridden. She became frail and her health deteriorated when she did not see my mother for a long time as she was in the hospital. She breathed her last a couple days after my mother returned home from the hospital. It was almost as if she waited for her to say a final goodbye.

My mother took forward the legacy of the two women and went on to become one of the most popular teachers in the school where she taught. She successfully completed a Masters in Education with a first class at the age of 50. Post retirement, she continues to teach children from low-income households, runs a support network for informal workers in the neighbourhood and keeps herself busy 24×7. On the birth anniversaries of Rekha, Kamal and my father, she supports needy students by paying their yearly fees and giving them school supplies. She is extremely popular in the big housing society where she lives due to her never-say-die attitude and the ability to help everyone. She has a strong army of female friends and they travel often.

Kamal, Rekha and Anagha fought adversities and collectively triumphed. They made their way through it without having a ‘man’ by their side. At each point, the society- family friends, relatives included wanted them to fail. People wanted them to seek support, sympathy and help from them. But they never did. Their success and happiness was difficult to digest for many. It still is. In a society where women have no control over their bodies and minds, the three women in my life dreamt to take control of their entire lives and taught lessons like no motivational story can teach. The three women taught me almost everything that I know today but most importantly, they taught me that ‘little girls are not just made of sugar and spice and all things nice’!

*Ankita Rajesh Bhatkhande is a Mumbai based Communications Professional, a former journalist and an independent researcher. She works as the Head of Communications for a Gender and Climate Programme at Asar Social Impact Advisors. She is currently pursuing her PhD from the University of Mumbai and studies the operation of caste in everyday household spaces.