Note: “In some parts where Mona is speaking with people at her office, the name ‘Dolly’ is used for Mona because, in the office, Mona submitted documents under Dolly’s (her younger sister’s) name.”
One day, I couldn’t pay my children’s school fees and asked everyone for 500 rupees, but nobody would help. Then I asked my older sister’s daughter, and she said, “Yes, Auntie, I’ll give you 500.” So I said, “Alright, lend it to me for five days, and I’ll return it.” I had some money pending with my sister-in-law, who said she’d pay me in five days, so I figured I’d use that. Otherwise, the school wouldn’t give my children the exam papers—it was their half-yearly exam, so I really needed the money. I cried a lot that day because I had to ask my niece for money, but I was helpless. She agreed, gave me five days, and I called her on the fifth day. She had put my number on her block list, and each time I called, it said “busy.” What could I do? She basically deceived me. Then I borrowed 500 rupees on interest from someone else and paid the school fees. After my child finished the exam, I decided I’d have to earn outside (in another city). So I made up my mind to leave. I left for Haryana with my husband.
As soon as I boarded the train, my purse got stolen. It had all my money, my ATM card, and my Aadhaar card—basically everything. I had no cash for food, not a single rupee. My husband had nothing either; all our money was in that purse. When we reached Delhi, I called the uncle I was supposed to meet, explained the whole situation, and he said, “Don’t worry, just take a cab, and I’ll pay for it.” So I booked a cab and went to his room in Manesar. After resting for a day or two, I started looking for a job. I also asked the uncle I was staying with if he could help my husband get work. Every day, he found him night shifts, but I’d refuse to let my husband work nights. The uncle must have had something else on his mind. We said, “Yes, we know you get night shifts, but there’s only one room. Could you arrange a day shift first for seven days?” He replied, “It’s not in my hands,” which led me to suspect he had wrong intentions.
Then one day, he got serious and said, “If you agree to the night shift, fine. Otherwise, go find your own way.” I answered, “Okay, no problem, I’m leaving.” Since I used to live there before, I knew a landlord nearby, so I went to him, explained the situation—that I had no money right now and no job yet, but once I started earning, I’d pay. He said, “It’s alright, take a separate room,” and I moved into that new place. Even after that, neither my husband nor I found a job, and going back home wasn’t an option because I needed work urgently. I thought, “Until we find a job, I’ll do manual labor; I still can’t go home.” In Manesar, there’s a square where laborers gather in the morning to find day work. I went there too, waiting in line. Some people got hired and left, but nobody chose us, saying, “No, you folks won’t be able to handle it.” By 9 a.m., everyone else was gone, and we were left behind. I went back to my room crying; I had nothing. I only had faith in God. The place I rented had only a small gas stove, a small cylinder, one pan (tawa), a rolling pin (belan), a board for rolling dough (chakla), and a single glass. That was it. So I went to the shop—coincidentally owned by the landlord—and got some flour on credit, came back, and made rotis (flatbreads). You can buy vegetables for 10–20 rupees in Manesar; I got 10 rupees’ worth of vegetables and 10 rupees’ worth of milk. I ate roti and vegetables, drank milk, and went to sleep. Milk is my favorite. I had 500 rupees sent from my sister-in-law, which helped me get by for a bit.
One day, I sent my husband to the labor square: “You go, maybe you’ll get work. Then call me, and I’ll come.” He did get some work, called me, and I rushed over. As we were leaving for the job, the person taking us said, “Ma’am, don’t go; this job isn’t right for you.” I insisted, “Bhaiya (brother), let me try. If I can’t do it, then okay, let them replace me.” After a lot of pleading, he agreed and took me there. The work was very tough. There was a school under construction—three floors—and we had to pull bricks up with a rope. I got scared seeing it and thought, “How will I manage?” But I mustered my courage. Without eating anything, I started washing bricks. It was me, my husband, and two other laborers who were used to this sort of work. We took turns—one or two people would bring the bricks, another would tie them up, and two of us would pull them up. We just prayed to God for strength. I couldn’t tie the bricks properly since I didn’t know how, so I said, “I’ll do the pulling.” My husband and I started hauling bricks. I prayed, “God, please help,” and that’s how my daily routine began.
We worked until 1 p.m., then took a lunch break. We had no money, so the manager or employer gave us 100 rupees for food. My husband and I ate lunch. There was a two-hour break, then we resumed work until 5:30 p.m. and got paid 700 rupees. A hundred was deducted for lunch, so we took 700 home. On the way back, we bought a bucket, a mug, a comb, a mirror, and a plate—just the basics we needed. We also bought 20 rupees’ worth of prepared vegetable curry since we didn’t have any groceries. We could get it readily outside. We warmed up some rotis at home and finally reached our place at 8 p.m. We washed up, since we’d been covered in dust and dirt all day, made rotis, ate, and went to sleep. The next morning, we woke up early, bathed, and went out again, looking for more work. There was no fixed company or schedule—just show up at that square daily and hope for a job.
The next morning, we went back and found work at the same school. For three or four days, we kept working there, pulling up bricks. Each day we spent about 100 on food and saved 700. In five days, we saved about 3,500 from that job. We used that to pay 2,000 for rent (the landlord wanted an advance). Five days later, I got a cleaning job at a temple where a puja (prayer ceremony) was going to take place. The temple was quite large, so it took six or seven days to clean. My husband and I worked there, earned 4,900 rupees total (for both of us). There was more work there, but we didn’t feel comfortable; it was also physically demanding, and we couldn’t manage. Desperate times push you to do anything, but at least now we had some money. In a day or two, I figured I could find a real job. So I went to a dairy and ice cream company, got hired, and started working. I call my husband “Sahab” (a term like “Sir”) because he doesn’t want to work; that’s why I address him that way.
Now I started going to the company, but my husband refused to work and stayed at home. I’d encourage him, “Go find a job somewhere,” but he’d reply, “I’m going back home. I’m done with working. You forced me here and forced me to work. You work; I’m leaving.” So I tried, “Let me find him another job.” I got him placed in my own company, but he wouldn’t do anything and ended up running away from it. They called me saying, “He doesn’t want to work; he’s going to the bathroom all the time. Dolly, tell us what to do.” I said, “Let him go.” After that, he never found any other work, not even day labor, because he simply had no interest in working. Two months passed like this; I kept working, and he kept running from place to place, refusing every job.
There was an auntie living next door who asked me, “Your husband’s at home? Has he never found work?” I responded honestly, “No, Auntie, nothing’s come up. I don’t know what else to do.” She said, “Don’t worry, dear, I know someone; let me talk to him.” She set up a phone call for me, and I told him the truth: “Look, you can offer a job, but he probably can’t do it.” He started talking more, and before we knew it, three hours had passed on the phone—I’d explained everything about how my husband couldn’t hold a job. I even said, “I don’t know you,” and he said, “That’s okay, nobody knows anyone at first; you’ll get to know me. I’ll give your husband a job; it’s no trouble for me.” I said, “Alright, he might do it, but only for about 15 days maximum.” He promised, “No, I’ll get him a good position with good pay.” “Okay,” I said. “But I’m not leaving my job here,” and he agreed, “That’s fine, you stay there, I’ll have him move in with someone else. When he’s settled, you can come.” I said, “Alright.” He told me, “It won’t cost you a cent. I’m coming to pick him up.” He came on Sunday, took my husband with him the same day, and got him a job on Monday, just as he’d promised.
After that, I spoke to him occasionally because my husband didn’t have a phone, so we used his phone to communicate. A month passed, and he said, “Your husband’s gotten his first salary; now you should come here, too. I can get you the same job.” I agreed, and my husband also kept calling, saying he was having trouble cooking on his own. So I went to Jaipur. My husband had a job at Omax, in the quality department, with a salary of 20,000—arranged by that man. He got him the highest salary because he controlled payroll. I moved to Jaipur as well and found a job myself. My pay was lower because some of my documents were incomplete, but at least both of us were working.
Things went well for a few months. Then my husband started insisting again about going home around May. I said, “Wait a few more months, then I’ll get you leave from the boss. It’s only been three months. He said you need to work six months before you can take leave.” But my husband had no urgent reason; he just wanted to go. He worked for three months, often taking time off, but my boss was trying to manage things, telling me not to worry—that he’d sort it out somehow. I thought, “Mona, just stay calm; he says he’ll help.” The truth was, that man had taken a liking to me, but I never said anything because I was already stressed and didn’t want any drama. “If you want to help, fine; if not, that’s okay, I’m not interested,” I told him. He said, “Don’t get the wrong idea—I just like you; maybe we could be friends.” I replied, “No friends, no enemies—let’s just keep it simple.” He laughed and said, “Alright, if that’s what you want; you’re a good person.”
One day, my husband forced me into sending him back home with a train ticket; he’d jumped a boundary fence or something to get into the room. Then I got a call from the boss, “Where is Madanjeet?” I said, “I’m at work, I don’t know.” I got a gate pass and went to check; he was indeed back at the room. I phoned the boss and told him. Whatever he did, it could’ve been serious, but God saved him. There was no evidence because the cameras didn’t catch it. The boss said, “I gave him a letter, but forgot about it.” After that, he told me, “I’m sorry, I can’t keep him on here. This is too much trouble.” I said, “Well, then just stay here, no point going home,” but he wouldn’t. He stayed ten days and started getting physically aggressive about leaving. I had no choice but to send him off. It was our wedding anniversary, and I said, “At least wait for that,” but he insisted he had to go. So I bought him a last-minute ticket and sent him away. Now it’s been five years that I haven’t been able to get him any job, because he keeps creating situations that only God can fix. Before, I’d forget these incidents and think maybe I’d try once more to find something for him. But now, each time I remember the chaos he caused, I realize, “God has saved us so many times. Better not try anymore.” I haven’t even brought up jobs for him since. Though he keeps saying, “Can’t you get me a job again? Trust me one more time.” Sometimes I think about placing him somewhere, like a garments factory, but then I remember he won’t focus on the job, and who knows what trouble he might cause. Honestly, because of him, I feel so much anxiety about job matters. I’d end up having to advocate for him—“He might not be able to handle some tasks, please accommodate.” He could have become a friend to me this way, since I’d end up confiding in him, but I avoid forming close bonds with people, don’t like going out or socializing. I figure, what’s the point of being too friendly? Meanwhile, my husband just runs away; he has no interest in working at all. How could that ever work?
So for five years, I’ve been completely on my own, just focusing on a job and my children. Then someone I knew on Facebook said, “Dolly, come to Manesar. I can get you work here. Your old company reopened.” I used to work at a company called Lifelong, which burned down. I was an operator making 3ml syringes. I agreed and thought, “Sure, I’ll go. My salary was only 8,000, but maybe I can manage.” Before, I’d gone for my husband’s sake; now he’s gone. What’s the point of earning just 8,000? Still, I went to Manesar, tried to get a new job, but didn’t find one because there were no vacancies. Eventually, I got hired at Sandhar Company—12-hour shifts, 16,000 salary, from 7 to 7. I got put on packing duty, which I liked, and everything was going well. After a year, it was my sister’s 25th wedding anniversary. She said she wanted to celebrate properly and invited everyone for three days. All my sisters are housewives, so they had no problem, but I was far away. I took four days off, went to my sister’s place, prepared everything, and stayed there. My kids came too, the whole family. My husband also came, and it was a lot of fun.
After four days, I returned to work, and that’s when we were told our company was moving to Gurgaon. They said either go there or look for something else. It was stressful; we weren’t sure where to go. They gave us six months to find a new company, and our manager even offered some contacts. But the problem was that most places offered eight-hour shifts, paying about the same as our 12-hour job. I wasn’t sure I’d manage. I stayed home for a month, thinking, “If I don’t find anything soon, I’ll settle for whatever I can get,” but still I tried looking. Nothing worked out. Then one day, an old friend and I reconnected. She took my number, called me, and came to meet. I told her everything. She suggested, “Why don’t you do cooking in a society? You’ll earn decent money, as much as the work you put in.” I said, “Alright, I just need income.” She said, “I can find you one cooking job, and you can look for more.” So I came to the Mapsko Society and joined one cooking position. Within three or four days, I got three cooking gigs. I’d start at 6 a.m. and finish by 11. Around 11, it’d be very hot, and few autos run in the society, so sometimes I’d have to walk back, arriving around 12. Then at 4 or 4:30, I’d leave again for evening cooking jobs, finishing by 8 p.m. Two or three months passed like this, and I kept thinking, “If I could get one 8-hour job in the society, that’d be simpler.”
Then I got a call asking if I’d look after someone’s child. “Yes, if you want that, come meet us. You’ll just watch the child.” I went and spoke with them. They liked me and asked me to start the next day, 9 a.m. to 6:30 p.m., for 14,000 rupees. I agreed. I ended up staying there most of the time because it wasn’t convenient to travel back and forth. I’d bathe in the morning, go there, have a quick breakfast, and bring my own lunch. So I started doing both cooking and babysitting. A month later, my sister’s husband had an accident and passed away. I received the news and immediately ran home, leaving work behind. I couldn’t return for 15 days; they waited for me. After I came back, my job was still open; no one had replaced me. So I resumed work, juggling two cooking gigs plus babysitting.
Then one evening, I was heading home and accepted a ride from a man who lived in the Mapsko Society. Usually, at night, I don’t take lifts but walk, because the autos stop running. But that day, I did, and it turned out to be my last time accepting a ride. He dropped me at my usual stop, asked what I did for a living, where I was coming from. I told him I cooked for people. He asked, “Can you cook for me, too?” I replied, “No, I don’t have the time.” He said, “Alright, take my number. If you ever have the time, call me.” I said okay, took his number, and went home. Two days later, I had an argument with the person whose cooking job I did, so I quit. The fight started because I’d gone to their place, rang the bell, and nobody opened the door. Later, they accused me of never showing up. I even gave proof—their groceries were left at the door—but they kept insisting I never came. I got fed up and said, “Fine, if I supposedly never came, I really won’t come anymore,” and I quit.
Two days after that, I called the man whose number I’d taken. I asked, “When should I come cook?” He said, “Come whenever you like.” So I went to cook, but he had no supplies—just an empty house. I asked, “How am I supposed to cook with no groceries?” He asked if I could bring them. I said, “I have no vehicle. You have a car, so go get groceries, and from tomorrow I’ll start cooking.” Then he asked if I’d go with him because he didn’t know where or what to buy, being new to the area. I was short on time, but I like helping people if I can manage, so I said, “Alright, let’s go now, in an hour. We’ll pick some stuff up.” So we went out around 8 p.m. to Manesar, picked up a few utensils—pressure cooker, pan, and other essentials. We got back late, so I couldn’t cook that night; I had to get home. The next day, I started cooking for him.
We’d only been doing this for about 15 days when I got a phone call from “Aashi Jain,” telling me, “Don’t come tomorrow, Mona.” I asked, “Why? What happened?” He just said, “Don’t come.” I wondered what was wrong—that he wouldn’t want me cooking anymore. I pressed for an answer, and he said, “I don’t have any money to pay you.” That really hurt because I was being turned away just for money. I told him, “If the problem is money, I’ll cook for free. It’s only one meal, so I’ll manage.” He insisted that he had no money, so I reiterated I could do it for free, as long as there was no other issue. He kept saying he was short on cash. So, from that point on, for about two months, I cooked without any payment. Eventually, he proposed, “Mona, why don’t you stay here in my flat, save on rent?” I declined: “No, I can’t live here. Why would I? You live alone, and I can’t do that.” I refused.
More days passed. Then my sister’s daughter got a job in Gurgaon, so she told me, “Auntie, I’ll come stay with you if that’s okay.” I said, “Sure, no problem.” I updated Aashi, “Sanu (my niece) is coming. Can I give her your address? My own room isn’t that nice, so she’ll be more comfortable at your place.” He agreed. Sanu arrived but left after one day. She was gone, but I had already brought my belongings to that place, so I basically started living there. I vacated my old room and moved in. I stayed for a year, cooking for Aashi without any pay. Eventually, something happened in the society, and I had to move out. I rented another place for 3,000, and Aashi Jain started paying that rent for me. So now, effectively, Aashi was giving me a 3,000-rupee salary. I continued staying there, although all my belongings remained at his flat. I would just go to my room at night to sleep, then come back in the morning and head to work from there. My job was 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., so I’d return at 8, cook, and usually leave by 9 or 9:30 p.m. That’s how life went. Aashi plans to keep it that way until he gets married, and then we’ll see. At present, I’m staying with Aashi Jain. My salary there rose to 7,500 because his child grew older and started going to school, freeing me up. So I started doing all the household chores too. Aashi Jain got promoted twice, so he had no issues paying me more. He said, “Mona, handle everything, and take whatever amount comes out to be.” I agreed. So now I do all the housework and get 7,500. Everything’s going well. Aashi also is doing fine in a good position, and I’m working too. But now Aashi wants to get married. He keeps meeting women, but hasn’t found anyone he likes yet.
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