She, the Woman Tea Estate Worker

She rose from her simple bedding

With the first crowing of the cocks in the workers’ line

She lit the fire with pieces of wood

In her brick and clay oven

She placed the kettle of water on the oven

Brought two bowlful of flour from a tin container

And kneaded in a high edged plate

She baked chapattis on the iron tawa and

 Boiled the sugarless tea without milk

‘Red tea’ she and all others call it

By that time, her husband and children were up

And ready for breakfast

She served the chapattis and tea

She barely had time to eat her breakfast

The siren in the tea factory ordered her

To get out and join her duty at the tea bushes.

She placed her improvised cloth bag on her head

A tripal, the tough apron, a rope, an umbrella,

Lit a bidi and stepped out smoking.

She plucked tea leaves and pushed

Into the collecting bag on her back

Her black fingers worked while she talked

With her co-workers

Talking makes the work less monotonous

And the burden of the day less heavy

In fact, that is her best time!

After the first weighing, she can smoke a bidi again

With her colleagues.

In the evening, she returned home

She scrubbed the cooking utensils

With ash, using a lump of grass as scrubber

And washed the pots in the public tap

She fetched water for drinking and cooking

She lit fire again in the oven to cook the evening meal

Of rice, lintel and some simple curry

Her family ate while she served

She was the last one to eat her meal.

She a mother, a wife and a tea estate worker

She is tougher than the tripal she wears

Around her body

Yet, she is tender and sweet like the tea flower

She, the woman tea estate worker!

Xavier Bage

Friday, September 14, 2018