I grew up on the outskirts of Kolkata. Religious or caste intolerance was unknown to us. In my childhood days, that means in the nineties, many vendors used to sell their products at door steps. They come from near or far-away places. One of them was a lady who used to sell garments.

 The usual time of her arrival was in the afternoons. She belongs to the Muslim community. The lady developed a very intimate relationship with my mother. More than selling, she was interested in telling her own stories. My mother also used to share her mundane stories with the lady. It may sound ridiculous, but the lady had 12 to 13 children. My mother used to joke about the size of a lady's family by comparing it with a football team. Her husband was an old man. The main source of income for the family was the pension of the old man. With the help of that paltry pension, she had to feed 14 to 15 members of the family. 

The lady used to sell garments in the nearby villages. Sarees and kid's wear were the main goods for sale. It seems the lady was married at a very young age. Her elder child was then almost thirteen years old. The elder ones were to cook food. They used to survive on a very basic diet. Rice and potato curry were the staple meals of the family. Maybe once a week they had eggs. During Eid, they used to feast on meat offered free from mosques. In some Eids, when the family cooked something special, she used to bring it for us. I was a little bit reluctant, but my sister had relished those delicacies. During Eid, rich men used to donate sarees and lungis to the underprivileged. The receiver of those goods, in turn, used to sell them for money. After Eid, the lady used to come up with those sarees. The sarees were not of great quality but were indeed cheap. 

At that time, their home did not have an electric connection. In one evening, a younger kid of the family carrying a lantern got the fire in her cloth. Other members of the family were outside the house at that moment. It was usual for the family to stay outdoors in the summer evenings. So, the kid got burned to death by the time others noticed her.

As time passed, we grew up from the days of listening to stories while sitting beside our mothers. The lady also stopped her business. May be her kids are now grown up and earning well.