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PHOTO: H. VIBHU

United we stand The members of the Kudumbasree unit gearing up to face the day

“Have some more rice,” Teresa George tells a dapper guy who is relishing fresh ‘sambharam’. Most of the regulars at the Kudumbasree hotel at Vytilla, on the Thammanam-Palarivattom Road swear that it’s like home food and their stomachs don’t revolt whenever they have lunch here, at the New Akshaya 44. The ten women ‘manning’ it serve it with a dash of love, and that makes all the difference. “Moreover, there are no leftovers, for we know more or less how much will be needed. So if you come a little late, sorry, no lunch!” and Mary George laughs.

It’s not lunch alone, you have breakfast, tea, but no dinner, for the women must go home to their families by 6 pm. They reach the place by 6 am and start afresh, chopping vegetables, buying vegetables, fish, beef and chicken. Well, the old adage, ‘unity is strength’ seems to work overtime here. “Everybody does everything, that’s the secret of our success. But Omana Gangadharan here looks after our accounts as most of us are pretty bad at that,” sats Teresa. Most of the women are school dropouts. One of them has done pre degree, a few are SSLC failed and one of them is a music teacher, who takes long leave occasionally, when she finds many students who want to learn music.

At first they were part of the ayalkootam. The Kudumbasree scheme came to the aid of these home makers who wanted to make something of their lives. Instead of sitting tight at home and lamenting about their plight, these women got together, made use of the government schemes for women and voila! Here they are reaping dividends, though not very business minded. “We charge just Rs 15 for a meal. The extras like fish fry and chicken are also moderately priced,” says Omana. The meal consists of good ‘matta’ rice, sambar, three side dishes, rasam, pickle, pappadam and buttermilk. “Each one earns roughly Rs 4000 per month on an average. Some months we make Rs 3000 and some months, we get even Rs. 7000, according to sales,” says Omana.

They started out eight years ago, on a small scale, nursing a big dream. “We each put in Rs 5,000 and started making savouries. We would sell them at houses. After two years, we realised that we made a loss of Rs10,000as many of them bought it on credit and they never paid up. That’s when we got our act together and with the help of our councellor, we offered to run the LIC canteen. By then we knew exactly where we had gone wrong. We did fine there. That’s when this Kudumbasree project came our way. We left that and took this up, with a Rs. One lakh loan, of which half was a subsidy. Now we also run the SBT Zonal office canteen, along with this hotel,” says Teresa with satisfaction.

They have been given several sessions of training on how to manage accounts, behave with people and conduct themselves generally. Their husbands are mostly self employed, some are autorickshaw drivers, car drivers and salesmen. Aged between 35 and 55, the sense of independence and empowerment they derive from their present life is something that they will not give up. They look forward to their annual picnic. Last year, they went to Kanyakumari. “We got so much more from this effort than money to live. We come across all kinds of people and the knowledge we gain is so much. Had we stayed home, it would certainly have been a great loss,” says Teresa.

The others agree with a smile. Ireesh Peter, Vimala Vijayan, Shobha Sabu, Mani Diwakaran, Bindu Sathyanath, Thangamani Chandran and Usha Vijayan get busy again, collecting the plates, arranging the plates of fish curry, giving someone an extra pappadam, asking another if they wanted more kichchadi or mezhukkupuratti and welcoming the bunch of office goers who have dropped in for lunch.

“The chechis here cook lunch like our mothers back home, that’s why we come here,” says Satheesh, who works in an office just round the corner. The ten women have stuck together for eight years, virtually through thick and thin. “Yes, we miss one another on Sundays, which is a holiday,” they say, as they see us to the door.

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