Talking to Rajeshwari in a garment factory

I met Rajeshwari ( name changed) when I was assisting in the documentation of a project run by an NGO in some of the garment factories of Bengaluru.

Shy, dignified,she told me her story of how she was buoyed up in her struggles with her oppressive family by the strong sisterhood that exists among them because of their involvement in the project.

Run like a community mobilization project that sensitizes garment workers about sexual health, gender inequality, domestic violence and alcohol abuse - there is an air of empowerment in all the stories I hear from the women, but with a strain of the old oppression.

Mulling over it and my experiences through the whole documentation - I wrote this short story - it contains all the women that I met there and other women that I have observed outside of this experience :) Let me know what you think!

At the seams

Chandrika gazed out the window of the car, her thoughts far away. The view was monotonous, one of Bangalore’s newly sprung suburbs with grubby hovels and buildings browned by the dust from congested roads. This was her third time in Bangalore, but she was wide-eyed with the same excitement she had felt when she had first seen the city. She liked its restless, feverish pace where everybody strode away importantly, to do important things in their important lives.

The traffic inched slowly. Naganna yawned and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beats of a film song playing on his phone. He would occasionally burst into snatches of song in his baritone – the same baritone that awed villagers when he boomed his dialogues as Bhima, whenever their repertory performed Urubhanga. Venkatappa was fast asleep, his formidable moustaches flapping as he snored. Puttaswamy had just woken from a nap and looked grumpy and red eyed.

“yappa...Stop at some hotel for coffee. The heat and dust is making me feel dazed. ” said Puttaswamy and rolled up his window. Chandrika felt relieved. For the past one hour, she had been ignoring the dull pain below her stomach. She had wanted to use the bathroom.

The traffic eased .As they turned a corner, they saw an Udupi Upahar and stopped to have a late afternoon snack. Chandrika hurried to the bathroom to find it already occupied. The walls were grimy and damp, mould growing along the edge. She waited a long time, indecisive and went away to where the men were sitting. She kept a sharp lookout for any lady who would come from that direction.

“What will you have Chandrika?”

“Tea, anna.”

They hailed a waiter.

“What snacks do you have?”

“Idli vada, kharabath, poori, masala dosa, uthappa.” The waiter said in a bored voice.

They decided to have a masala dosa each. It would be late after the performance at the garment factory and they wouldn’t have a bite to eat before that. Better to eat their fill now than to languish later.

 Ah, finally! A rotund lady in a blue saree came from the general direction of the bathroom. Chandrika quickly went there to find it vacant. The terrible stench overwhelmed her senses. Chandrika held her breath in, the way she had countless times in the past and relieved herself.

She went back to the table to find them eating. Opposite their table, a small TV was telecasting the same dreary news she had seen in the morning. An MP was being harangued by a journalist about his ‘alleged’ illicit relationship with a famous movie star turned politician. Venkatappa and Puttaswamy were in an animated discussion.

Chandrika dunked the crisp brown masala dosa chunks into the spicy chutney and savoured  it. A sip of hot tea felt like fire in the mouth. Chandrika enjoyed it very much.

Her husband would often joke with his friends, early in their marriage, whenever he invited them home for dinner - "Be careful tomorrow morning. With Chandru’s cooking, there have been times when my sandas  has caught fire!” His friends had guffawed. Chandrika had been embarrassed. After that, she had consciously tried to reduce the spice in her food. But heredity was a strange thing. Her two daughters who had grown up on the bland food at her husband’s house, loved spice. There was something heartening in that. Whenever her husband went out of town on work, there would be a secret pact between mother and daughters that something spicy and tasty would await them after school.

She caught snatches of conversation between Venkatappa and Puttaswamy, only half- listening to what they were saying.

“...But who said she’s such a paragon of virtue? Did you forget that huge ruckus she created with that director, back in the 90s? Once a wench, always a wench I tell you. This is all the work of that Gangaiah and his cronies ...Simply to tarnish this guy’s name...”

“But the tapes clearly show what happened... Just because she had such a background doesn’t mean that this time she is lying. She has been doing good work.” objected  Puttaswamy.

“Oh right! Wear one starched cotton saree and jhola bag, talk about loka seve, samaja seve and pull the wool over people’s eyes. Well, I am not fooled...” Snorted Venkatappa.

Naganna was quietly watching the news. Chandrika craned her neck to watch what was happening. The MP had lost his cool and was shouting at the journalist. They were telecasting clips of him shoving a cameraman aside, over and over again.  She gave up after a few minutes. Her neck was beginning to hurt. She realised with a start that the men had finished their food and were already paying the bill. She gobbled the dosa, gulped down the lukewarm tea and hurried towards the car.

They drove away to RR exports, the garment factory where they would be performing the street play. She felt a twinge of nervous anticipation. This would be her first time in the main role - Pushpa used to do it but had quit the troupe after her marriage. Chandrika was excited. Street performances were not new to her, but this would be her first time in a garment factory. She wondered what kind of an audience she would have to face.

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Poornima was feeling stressed. The bad-tempered supervisor Ramayya was prowling the factory floor, just waiting, waiting, for a chance to blow off steam. He stopped right where she was standing. Her heart thudding but outwardly calm, she continued to stitch the sleeves. She was trying her best; everybody was trying their best to meet the target. They had been slogging over this shipment, working overtime, but it seemed never ending. She was feeling a little dizzy and wanted to stop for a second. But Ramayya was still standing there. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She despised the very sight of him – always striding about self-importantly as though he was a cut above them all. Ah, now she hit upon the keynote of his anger – the play was going to be performed at 4. They would miss out on an hour of work because the management and HR had set the workers free from 4 to 5 to watch the play. She felt a sudden pity for Ramayya. He would have to bear the brunt if the shipment was not delivered on time. His anger was understandable, she thought. She worked with renewed vigour on the sleeves. She was surprised to hear Ramayya growl, “You are the only one who is working ok.”He looked away at the QCs and raised his voice, “I told you to number that batch and keep!! Now don’t jumble it with the other batch.” He rumbled away like an angry bear while the QCs grew agitated and scared.

 Poornima couldn’t believe her ears! Had the great Ramayya actually given her a compliment? All the same, she would be glad when they would be let off at 4. She was exhausted. She had stitched 250 sleeves and still had 150 more to do. She couldn’t do overtime today. She had work piled up at home. Her two youngest children had an upset stomach and she would have to take them to the doctor. Her mother-in-law would have kept aside all the dirty and stained clothes of the children for her to wash. She sighed as she remembered her mother in law’s puckered up face as she complained that everybody was taking advantage of her. And then she had to fix dinner, clean the utensils, prepare food for tomorrow. Her heart sank as she remembered that her daughter Bhavani’s uniform had to be mended. Her husband had been grumpy lately because she went to sleep the minute she laid down her head on the bed. He had to be appeased. A thousand worries were running in her head while she worked mechanically at the sewing machine.

Poornima was determined to finish the work today. She pushed all other thoughts out of her head and focussed on the sewing, sweat making inroads down her back, damp patches forming on her navy blue uniform.

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The Vinayaka Kala Tanda took their bags, props, speakers and equipments inside the huge complex of RR exports. The security guard greeted them familiarly and gave them visitors’ ID cards.  Naganna entered their names in his notoriously illegible scrawl - crow feet handwriting, they used to call it. Chandrika had a special affection for this giant whose gruffness often hid sensitivity and kindness.

They waited outside the HR manager's chamber - a posh air conditioned office with Sai Baba's photographs around the walls. The factory owner seemed to be a devout man, much given to vaastu. Over the door of the HR’s chamber, there hung an iron horse shoe to ward off the evil eye. Chandrika noticed another one over the door of the production manager’s chamber.

A pock-marked boy of about seventeen opened the door and asked them to be seated.

 “Sir, will you take coffee or tea?”

“Tea for all of us. Where is the Manager?” Puttaswamy answered.

“He is coming. He will join you in ten minutes.” Said the boy and went away.

Chandrika looked at the time. It was a quarter to four. Time to get ready. She opened her cavernous bag and took out a mirror and a comb. While their regular shows had elaborate costumes, street plays were simple no-frills affairs. She was already wearing the bright yellow cotton saree, her character Radhika was meant to wear. She set the mirror on the table and began to comb her hair. Her hair was knotted, pulling painfully at the roots as she ran her fingers through it. She shouldn’t have kept the window door open in the car but she loved the open air caressing her face and hair.

Her hair combed neatly and parted down the middle, she powdered her face and neck. She adjusted her saree, making sure the pins were right where they ought to be and  kept aside her props – A signboard with ‘IS THIS FAIR?’ written in Kannada in big bold letters on one side and ‘HOSPITAL’, on the other side; She took out a red sash, a stick and a black bag. She was ready.

Naganna was putting kohl around his eyes, humming to himself. The other two were removing the Kanjira,tala and dafli out of the sack they had brought with them.

The HR manager Pranav Kumar came in and greeted them. He knew the men from the earlier performances. This was the first time Chandrika was meeting him. Naganna introduced them to each other.

“This is Chandrika. She has performed in many shows and community street plays. This is her first time in a garment factory.”

Pranav Kumar nodded and smiled in acknowledgement. He had a kind smile and a careworn face.

“And this is your first time in this unit?”

“Yes, last we performed in unit 5 but you were not in town.”

“Ah, yes yes. I heard that it was very successful. Good  good!”

“Sir, can we start? It is already 4: 15.”

“There is some problem on the floor. We have a very large order with an approaching due date, so please don’t mind... I have spoken to the supervisors – I made an announcement on the PA in the afternoon also, so they should be allowing the workers out in some time.”

“Then we will go out and make the arrangements.”

“Please do, please do....I will send our boys to help you. Rajesha!” He called out.

 The pock-marked boy appeared. ‘Rajesha, call Seenappa and help them set up the mike and loudspeaker...Can I offer you anything? Coffee, tea, juice?” He asked them.

“No thank you. We have already had tea.”

Pranav Kumar excused himself to attend to something else. He was the one who had given the contract to Vinayaka Kala Tanda to perform street plays on social issues for the garment workers.  

Chandrika went outside the building complex to the compound where the men had begun to set up their props. She looked around. The space would be too cramped for the spectators.

She went up to Venkatappa and asked him, “Anna, how many people will be coming?”

“The whole factory. Rajesha, how many workers are there in this unit?” He asked him.

The boy scratched his head and said “I don’t know. I joined here recently.”He went to another man and asked him.

“1600 workers sir.”

1600! How could all of them fit in  this narrow ground, wondered Chandrika.

“Chandrika, Can you bring our banner? I’ve left it in the HR’s room.” Said Venkatappa.

Chandrika hurried inside the building to find a huge commotion outside Pranav Kumar’s office. A dishevelled man in a faded bush shirt was yelling at the top of his voice.

“It’s your responsibility to tell them. I don’t have to deal with all this! I am up till here with all my work without having to put up with this. If she can’t do a simple job of sending the proper bundle down the line, how the hell should any work get done? Because of her, the operators’ work is delayed...I don’t know now, you have to handle this mess...”

A young girl, barely eighteen, was crying her eyes out. She stood cowering in a corner of the room, scared of everything and everybody. The man turned to her and yelled, “You are not fit to work here, go back to your village, you good-for-nothing and sweep the floor with cow dung...that’s all you girls are any good for. You can’t trust these women with any real work.” He spat and went away.

 Pranav Kumar closed the door to his office, his face red, whether from anger or embarrassment, Chandrika couldn’t tell. She could see him gesticulating as he spoke to the weeping girl.

Chandrika went back outside, glowering. What a rude man! Go back to the village and sweep the floor with cow dung – How dare he say that? Such a patronising fellow.

Venkatappa looked at her. She told him what happened, anger pouring out with each word she uttered. Venkatappa merely chuckled. “Why are you getting so angry? These girls are used to it. It’s like water down a buffalo’s back...If girls want to leave the village, not wanting to get married and do household chores, they have to put up with this. It’s a choice they make... He went back to his work.

Chandrika was puzzled and her anger was mounting.  But something was not right in what anna was saying. Chandrika had a sudden urge to cry. She took deep breaths to calm down. It wouldn’t do to get too emotional before the performance. Theatre was all about balancing what she felt and what her character felt – Naganna had taught her that. She mustn’t get too involved, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to be Radhika. She trudged back to the office and looked in. To her relief, Pranav Kumar was not there. The cabin was empty. She quickly went in and took out the banner. It was almost time for the garment factory to close. How would they manage the time? She hurried back.

“Anna, it’s already five minutes to five O’ clock ...When will we start?”

Venkatappa frowned and said, “This is the problem in these factories...Chandrika, tie this to that pole over there...I will just speak to that manager and come.”

Chandrika unfurled their banner with Vinayaka Kala Tanda painted artistically over it. She felt a surge of pride as she saw it. She loved her troupe and its team. Puttaswamy came to help her.

“Chandrika, I think we have to cut short your song...There won’t be time.” Puttaswamy said.

Chandrika was disappointed. It was a beautiful song with meaningful lyrics, but yes, she could see that it wouldn’t be a good idea. They would just sing the lines of the chorus.  She hummed the lyrics to herself as she went about her work.

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Poornima heaved a sigh of relief. She was done! She had finished the day’s target! But she lingered for a while on the sleeves she had been sewing. If the supervisor saw her idle, he would pile more work on her from the other seamstresses who hadn’t met their targets. It had been a hard day’s work and she wanted very much to have that break. It was already 4:55, but they had not announced the break...Had it been cancelled? She hoped not. Otherwise she would have to keep pretending till 5:30 that she was working – not very easy to do under the sharp eagle eyes of Ramayya.

 As though in answer to her prayers, the PA system came alive with Pranav Kumar’s tenor. He cleared his throat, “Attention everybody...the streetplay will be performed by the Vinayaka Kala Tanda outside in the quadrangle now. Supervisors, let them out of their assembly line in fifteen minutes. They will be allowed to go home directly after the play is over. Attention everybody, I repeat...”

Poornima was excited. The last time she had seen a performance of any kind was fifteen years ago, in her village. It had been a Yakshagana performance. She remembered having been sweet on the bhagawata, a well-built man with a flamboyant moustache, much older than her. That was a good time in her life, free of cares and worries.  She suddenly remembered she had been with this factory since 12 years. How time had flown, with nothing to show for it!

One by one, people got up from their places, yawning and stretching. Poornima gave up her charade of being busy, tied up her bundle and wrote down the target completed on the clipboard that hung by a thread from the sewing machine. She got up with the rest.

“You finished?” Prema asked her, incredulous.

“Hmm. No overtime today!”

Prema looked envious. But her expression immediately softened. “How are the little ones?”

“Worse.  I have to take them to the doctor. I hope they get better soon. My youngest has grown very weak and thin.” Worry clouded Poornima’s grey eyes.

“Everything’s going to be alright. Just give them antibiotics, they will get better.” Prema comforted her.

The workers milled about the small quadrangle outside the building. Poornima could hear a woman singing and a kanjira playing in the background.  She jostled the other ladies to find a vantage point to see the play.

“Listen Sister...To what ails me, and troubles me...

I have wandered and searched for justice, in the corners of this earth

Listen to my tale of woe and suffering,

The lot of a woman in this accursed birth.”

The lady in yellow was singing in a plaintive voice. The three men jumped in front of her and roared “Listen sisters, Listen! Listen to Radhika’s story....”

Radhika stands in the center, the three men circling around her, now facing the audience, now facing Radhika .

Radhika – “I was cursed the minute I was born. While I lay there warm and bundled in my mother’s arms, happy to be born into such a beautiful world, My mother’s loving arms went cold. She died where I lived, and it is a guilt I haven’t since forgotten. My father didn’t want me – What use was a girl child? He said and gave me away.”

A man with fiery kohl – rimmed eyes, jumps aside and screeches, “What use is a girl child? She is a burden. Why spend money to bring her up? He bundled his red sash in his hands and gave it to another man. “Take this child and do as you please. Make her your servant or throw her in the gutter.”

The other man laughs and twirls his moustache. “She will work for me and my mother and two brothers. She will toil and cook, clean and serve.”

Radhika puts her red sash on her head, leans on a stick and transforms herself into the cruel old mother. She extends her gnarled hands to grab the red bundle. “When she grows up, she will curse the day she was born.” The old lady cackles.

Radhika removes the red sash from her head and keeps aside the stick.

“And, so I grew up in that household... unloved, unhappy...The old lady beat me and made me work day and night, without respite. I grew up like this. Then one day, I was cleaning the cattle shed when...”

Radhika tucks her saree at the waist, and puts the red sash around her shoulders. She stoops on her knees and cleans the cattle shed. The man with the moustache sneaks up on her and pulls away her red duppatta. Radhika screams. There is a tussle between the man and Radhika. She tries to push him away and run, but the man is strong, he overpowers her. He pulls her dupatta completely and Radhika lies on the floor defeated. The man goes away with a satisfied laugh, patting his fat belly as though he has just had a tasty meal.

Radhika falls to the ground weeping. “I felt like dying that day. That man who was old enough to be my father had taken advantage of me. I thought I would run away. But where could I go?  I was an orphan. Who would take me?”

The three men come and circle her again. Radhika is still sitting on the floor, afraid of them.

“Every day, those three men violated and tortured me in turns. I rushed to the old woman for help. But she didn’t lift a finger. I became a walking corpse. I was only a young child...How much torture could I bear?”

“Our neighbour’s sister once came on a visit from Bangalore. She stayed for a month and came to know what was happening with me. She told me...”

Radhika puts the red sash over her head and transforms herself into the other lady. “What is happening with you is wrong, child. I will take you to Bangalore and get you a job. My friend works in a garment factory. I will ask her to get you a job there. Don’t tell them or they will never let you go. Get ready to leave tomorrow night after they are asleep.”

Radhika puts the red sash around her neck and becomes the little girl again. “Words cannot describe the joy I felt.” She walks around, looking at the audience.  “I felt like a bird, a bird who could fly! But I kept my joy bottled inside. I knew they would kill me if I stepped out of the house.”

The men are sleeping on the ground, their sleep punctuated by loud snores. Radhika takes the black bag, looks furtively at the men, and tiptoes the other way. “And so I ran away with the kind woman. We took the train to Bangalore and she took me to meet her friend. She said...”

Radhika ties the sash like a factory worker’s headscarf over her head. “Look girl. This is not a job for lazy girls. You have to be quick, fast and adjusting. I will ask for a job as an assistant. The faster you learn to say yes, the better. ”

Radhika changes to the little girl and walks wide-eyed into the garment factory. The men are noisy - busy sewing, measuring and assembling the clothes.

“I was happy there. I had a lot of work, but I could earn on my own. I started working overtime, because if I could earn more money, I could join school. But one day, the floor in-charge...”

Radhika is waving to somebody. “Bye Sumathi, bye Kasturi...See you tomorrow.” She bumps into the floor in-charge.

“Radhika, I‘ve been watching you.” The floor in-charge comes close to her. He puts a hand on her shoulder. Radhika recoils. “No sir, Please sir...I need to go home.”

“If you go home, you will lose your job. But if you stay with me, I will make sure you stay.”

Radhika turns to the audience and yells at them, “Don’t judge me, O sisters. Don’t judge me! I was scared I would be sent back to the village. So, I allowed him, to do what he wished with me.” She sobs.

Radhika picks up the signboard that has ‘Hospital’ written on it ,One of the men hold it for her, in place, Behind it, two men are holding their sashes high, making them look like curtains. She moves around the audience.

“Two weeks later, I realised I was pregnant.”

The floor in-charge rushes her furtively inside the makeshift curtains that the other two men have made from their sashes.

Radhika comes out from there after a beat, looking sad. “Which mother would like to lose a baby?” She begins to weep.

The floor in-charge yells at her, “If one word about this reaches the factory or my wife, I’ll kill you, remember that!”

 The men once again surround Radhika.

Radhika – “It didn’t stop there. He abused me again and again. Sometimes, his friends would join him. And, I couldn’t say a word. I prayed and prayed. No god came to my rescue. I decided to end my life.

Radhika stands on a chair and looks at her audience. She slowly begins to form a noose from her red sash. “These wolves never left me alone. What wrong did I do to them? Tell, me what wrong did I do?”

Radhika begins to choke as she tightens the noose around her neck.

The men slowly begin to sing the chorus as the play ends -

“Listen Sister...To what ails me, and troubles me...

I have wandered and searched for justice, in the corners of this earth

Listen to my tale of woe and suffering,

The lot of a woman in this accursed birth.”

The audience began to clap. Chandrika took the signboard that said ‘Is this fair?’ in front of the audience and shouted in the mike – “Is this fair?”

Poornima and the other women, tears streaming down their face cried out, “No!”

Naganna asked the audience, “What should Radhika have done?”

A woman in the front of the audience shouted, “She should have complained.”

Another yelled, “She should have quit the factory and gone to another one.”

“She should have said ‘no’ like a virtuous woman and quit her job.”

Pranav Kumar stepped in front of the audience and took the mike from Naganna.

“And that’s why we are here, the HR and welfare, to give you what is rightfully yours and solve your problems and...”

Poornima didn’t hear the rest of it. The TT had arrived. She had to leave for home, if she didn’t want to be late. The play was very touching. Poor Radhika, such things shouldn’t happen to women. Women should stand up for their rights.  Her thoughts simultaneously ran in another direction. She had to go home, take her kids to the doctor and cook something nice for her husband or he would yell at her..  She needed to stop and buy some aubergines on the way.