Dr Rekha Jad
rekhajad1969@gmail.com
People who have little often carry no affectation. They live unguarded, authentic lives – unapologetic about who they are.
Recently, while preparing for Shivratri, I called my former helper, Nisha – a dusky, spirited girl of barely sixteen or seventeen, a bubbling fountain of life and verve. As we sat together picking and cleaning spinach leaves, I casually asked her how much she earns these days.
With a lopsided smile and a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes, she replied, “Five thousand” – from buffing furniture, scrubbing utensils, mopping floors – “and another thousand from a little stitching and darning I do in my free time.”
Then, scrunching her little nose adorned with a tiny nose pin, she added with quiet pride, ” however,I save three thousand only .
“What do you do with the three thousand?” I asked.Her kohl-lined eyes gleamed.”I pay the EMI for the phone I bought for my mother on her birthday.”I was startled. Overwhelmed.The simplicity of her statement was disarming
A girl who labours all day for six thousand rupees, parting with half of it – the lion’s share – for her mother.
In that moment, her stature rose immeasurably in my eyes. Financial status, age, social position – none of these determine the depth of filial love. Her mother must have held the world in that blingy pink-covered phone, not because it was expensive, but because it was wrapped in her daughter’s sacrifice.
Daughters are another word for love – endless, instinctive, and fiercely protective
And as I stood there, I was reminded of my own daughter. Despite her rigorous schedule in medical school, she is always the one who calls. On my Thursday fasts or Ekadashi, she ensures vrat ki sabudana tikkis arrive at my door and that my freezer never runs empty. If there’s a wedding to attend, she is more concerned about my saree, jewellery, and cosmetics than I am – approving everything over video calls before ordering my favourite brown lipstick and that moisturiser I am stubbornly loyal to.
She senses my silences, my fleeting boredom, and recommends a Netflix series before I even voice it. She eggs on my wanderlust, nudges me to travel, and calls randomly just to ask, “Kya khaya? Kuch order karu?” Often, that question alone fills me up. Who needs food when a daughter’s love nourishes the soul
In homes across the country – whether in modest dwellings or comfortable apartments – daughters are quietly performing such acts of care. Their gestures may differ in scale, but not in sentiment.When life grants you a daughter, it grants you an enduring wellspring of affection – expressed not always in grand declarations, but in small, luminous acts of love.
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