Shwetmati and Krshnamati

A long, long time ago, in the village of Bikrampur there lived a farmer named Dadhaura. He had a hardworking wife who got up early every morning to fetch water from the well. Her name was Shwetmati. Shwetmati cooked for Dhadaura and their two daughters after getting the water every day. After packing lunch for Dadhaura and seeing him off as he left to work in the fields, she would teach her daughters the household duties. She would go to every room of the house, and show them how to mop the floor, how to make beds, and how to clean the closets. She taught them the art of cooking and making, and maintaining a house. A little before room, she would send them to shepherd the goats to the mountains. The two daughters, whose names were Onika and Bonika, met with their friends, and walked up the mountains together with their herds of cattle, every day.

Shwetmati went to cut grass for cattle and gather wood after sending everyone off every day. She would meet her friend Krshnamati, who lived in the next village, and off they went to the jungle. They went to a new places where others didn't go to, so they could easily gather fallen twigs and splints. Shwetmati wouldn't have to dry the wood out in the sun later, or wait for them to ripen. When they reached deep in the forest they would take a rest and start cutting grass. After cutting a load of grass they would stop for food. They talked about their husbands and their children.

One day when they were eating bread and vegetables that Krishnamati had brought, Shwetmati said, "You know, we work hard, we bring up our kids, our husbands toil in the fields all day, our children toil in the forest and the hills every day, yet still we barely make a living."

Krishnamati was quiet. She tore a piece of the bread, dipped it into the curry, wrapped a piece of potato and ate it. She took her time to chew through it.

"As you know, my in-laws recently came back from Dharmapur. They attended the 12-year festival there. They said the people there wear robes of silk, eat honey and meat for every meal, and drink beer all the time. I asked them doesn't the meat stink. Because they can't have so many chickens and goats to cut every day. They said no, someone cuts a goat or a buffalo every day, and every one gets to eat every day, " she said.

Shwetmati nodded. "And the local moneybrokers will charge so much for lending. Don't you remember when Bonika-Onika's father was sick and we had to take him to the local vaidya. So much they charged! We spent three months paying back just the interest on the money! Bonika-Onika didn't have eggs to eat for half the year! Us, we can manage, we know what I like , we can make by with what we have. What do we tell the children? How do we explain to them why we didn't even give them proper food?", she said, getting angry.

Shwetmati gargled with water, and drank it.

The two friends collected woods until the dusk. When the sun was an hour above the horizon, they carried the two loads and walked home.

On their way to the house, they met Dadhaura who was going home from the farm.

"You two sisters did a hard day of work, it seems, " he said looking at their load.

"We were mostly talking the whole, you were the one working in the farm," Krshnamati said.

"It was okay today. Cleared out the weeds and managed the canals, there should be enough grains this year, " he said.

"I was telling Krshnamati about how hard the moneybrokers have been on us," Shwetmati said looking at Dadhaura.

"It's just like that. They have the money, we are only poor peasants. It's written in the books, what to do. If we work hard now maybe something good will come the next time. That's why we work so hard to be pious and helpful no," Dadhaura said.

The sun had set down. They walked carefully by the hillside. The children will have been home. It was a good day, all things considered.