The sun was on it wake. The tinted sky of dawn had just begun to break in from behind the clouds. A thin trickle of water from a steam ebbed in the distance. The streets, a listless still. The hushed whispers as cows were being milk. An occasional bray of a goat.My cycle wore a tired look. I was up an out early that day. I had set out on work. I rarely did so. My brother had asked me to go. My work mostly entailed my being busy in the workshop.
My days as a child were no different. It was my brother who set me to work, taught me and told me what to do. Our father passed away when I was just 7. The burden from then on, lay on my brother. We did not know what school or education was. So there was no question of us children even going to school. Work was our life. As a child I remember waiting at home for my brothers to return. My sisters would be at work with embroidery or busy with household chores. I was young. So I was made to stay home.
When the time came, when my fingers were adept, I too joined in work. Working on a plethora of products and occasionally traveling with them I have now grown to enjoy what I do. I am willing to work on anything that comes my way.
