FICTION

As the morning crimson began to peek from behind the mountains, we’d hear first “good mornings” from the roosters. And, those crystal-clear voices, enveloping the entire village, would press the start button on a new day’s life.

While the beauty of the day and its routine bustle slowly took hold of people still drowsy with sleep, but the villagers were forced to set out early due to restless stirring of the animals in the barn. There were no high-stress scrambles like missing the bus or rushing to catch the subway.

Instead of feeling utterly alone in a crowd, the whole village and town were familiar with the same faces; everyone knew each other’s lineage. The order of business was different, of course. At most, you’d go to the field, cut and load wood from the mountain. And then, with panniers on your back, carry fertilizer one day and provisions the next to hoe your land. Also, you’d share the surplus of your harvest with your struggle for bread. Perhaps it wouldn’t pour, but your labor would always yield a steady drip.

With calluses on your hands and black rawhide sandals on your feet, you’d always be yourself. Like a villager… You’d smell the bitter smell of old rubber when you wanted to rest your feet, and you’d say, “My labor smells through and through.” This unique odour would remind you of your identity; of who you were. And, how else they’d recognize you! Your head was held high, and your labor was sacred to you. Yet, you’d suddenly become just a “peasant woman” or a “peasant man” whenever your path led you to the town or city. People measured the dignity of your lineage with your self-sacrifice; the greatest value inherited from your ancestors was your industriousness and honesty.

As the more the sun scorched you from above, the more diligent you were considered compared to others. Since, every hour of the day was of equal value for earning a living. Grandparents, who had dedicated themselves only to work for years and had grown frail, would point you out as someone determined and relentless. If you were a young girl or a young man, you became the most desirable and precious through your work performance. And you would dazzle like those sparkling products in supermarkets that entice their buyers.

Even when suitors came, they would say, “So-and-so’s daughter is very resilient; she can squeeze water out of a stone.” Also, Young men, who could handle their work, would first go as suitors to the most skillful girls. On the contrary, human emotions like love and passion weren’t given much importance in such situations. Of course, there were those who were smitten with each other and risked everything. But grandmothers and grandfathers kept saying that love doesn’t put food on the table. As people aged, they wiped the slate clean — once their own youthful fires had died out, they wanted everyone else’s to die out too. Oh, you people who have already “sifted your flour and hung up your sieve”…

If your cheeks weren’t bright red from the fresh milk, vegetables, and fruit you ate every day, or if the load on your back didn’t exceed a hundred kilos, you weren’t even considered a man. So, you’d to be stubbornly strong, stubbornly healthy, because your worth was measured by how much weight you could carry.