Then my small problem was resolved, but then the question arose: how will the children study in such a situation? Then everyone gathered at my home, my maternal home. When I got the land, it was decided, "Let Mona get something, and my brother will handle the rest." Among everyone, I had two sisters, my brother, and my parents. Both my sisters said, "Suraj, you should help Mona somehow." My brother replied, "How can I? We can’t take full responsibility for the child. Mona has no money. Howwill we give her name in the Model school? And rather put them into a government school… there’s no other way. How can we manage? We’re not influential people." Then my sister said, "No, Suraj, don’t talk like that. She’s your sister—do a little, and we’ll help a little too."
Then Didi said, "If Mona is lacking, we’ll cover it, but don’t mention the government school. Later, it might cause problems during her marriage. Whatever happens, she’s restless and sharp. Just help however you can—even ₹1000-2000." And what could he say? My brother agreed to give me ₹2000 every month and started sending it regularly.
Days passed like this. Then my mother kept insisting, "You also have to take ₹2000." She’d always call and pressure me, saying, "Look how much Suraj gives!" It hurt me deeply. So I started looking for work. First, my husband got a job as a guard at the mall. He started working there, and things improved. His salary was ₹9000, but we worried he might not last long. Who knew how many days he’d manage? Then I began walking daily to search for jobs—5 km every day. Finally, I got a job preparing tiffin for 300 people. Even though it was tough, I took it. My room was 5 km away, so I asked for travel allowance. He agreed and gave me ₹10 for commuting each way. I took charge of cooking, but he also needed someone to wash the tiffin boxes—any boy or girl. I hired a lady nearby to wash them and another to help with chopping. He paid them the same, but I took ₹3000 for them and kept ₹5000 for myself.
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