The charpoi swayed as I made myself comfortable in the courtyard. My father, now old, sits beside me as he tucks into his lunch. His lunch- a few mangoes, keeps him going. It’s the season for mangoes now, it is summer.
It was the summer of 1971. I, at a mere age of 13 joined my father then in weaving. We had just moved to Kotara from Godhra. We, amongst other weavers were called to move, to work for a Khadi organization there. Khadi at the time had a big demand. We children used to go to a cotton mill near by, while father used to weave from home. Years went by, things continued at steady pace. For around 20 years Kotara became home to us.
Soon enough, the demand for Khadi began dwindling. It was around 1992 and back in Ghodra, when I sadly had to take a break from weaving. Little did I know then that this break would last twenty years. Times were hard on us financially; I was forced to take up labor in construction sites. My children too, followed.
As years went by, and as I grew through the years, I no longer could work the way I did. I saw a happy turn of events, as I got back to weaving. My children earn well now, although they continue their journey on construction sites, I feel it is essential to be able to make money out of anything you work for. I owe it to them, for I now have the luxury to weave at my own pace and time. I want to continue weaving till the end of my time. Working with my hands keeps me healthy and fresh.
Is it not essential for the young to learn to work with their hands?For when the factories shut down, what will they do then?
