Early Days of Life with Laxmi (13)

13. Early Days of Life with Laxmi

Laxmi and I were married on May 18, 1978.

At the time of the wedding, she stayed at our home for three nights — one night spent on the train journey to the village, the second night in long conversations through the dark, and the third night devoted to the post-wedding rituals at home.

In those days, marriages took place at a young age, so the bride would visit her husband’s home once a year, known as “Aanu.”

According to social custom, Laxmi’s first visit (Aanu) was on Akhatrīj 1979 (April 29), the second on Akhatrīj 1980 (April 17), and the third on Dussehra,1980 (October 2)

She stayed for seven days the first time, fifteen days the second, and from the third visit onward, she came to stay permanently.

From that day onward, her fate and her husband’s home were intertwined — once water is poured, there’s no taking it back.

Thus, the real beginning of our married life was on October 2, 1980.

Life of a younger daughter in law in a joint family 

Before her arrival, the elders in the family would give me orders; now someone had come who would listen to mine.

She took over all responsibilities on my behalf, moving swiftly around the house, working tirelessly.

My mother, father, brothers, sisters-in-law, and I whatever task we gave her, she did it without a word of complaint.

At her parents’ home, she had never done any household chores, but her mother had told her, “My child, from now on, that home is yours and that husband is yours. Never speak against anyone. A daughter may leave her parental home, but until she dies, she must never turn against her husband or his family.”

Despite facing many difficult situations, she followed her mother’s advice faithfully.

She truly became the goddess Laxmi in our lives, bringing prosperity, patience, and grace into our home.

In our family, two brothers worked in the mill, and two of us were in office jobs.

When the mill workers had morning shifts, tea had to be ready by 6:30 a.m.

Tea was made on a kerosene Primus stove, using a medium-sized vessel, filled almost to the brim with watery tea for the whole family.

When the tea began to boil over, one had to lift the vessel carefully with tongs; otherwise, if the boiling tea spilled, it would extinguish the flame.

Laxmi was still new to these chores.

One morning, while making tea, she got a bit late.

My brother Jivan shouted impatiently for his tea, and startled, she began pumping the Primus stove harder and harder.

But the stubborn stove refused to light up properly.

With the vessel full of boiling tea balanced precariously on top, her pumping caused it to tilt and spill and the scalding tea poured over her soft hands.

Her left hand was badly burned, but she had the presence of mind to immediately immerse it in a bucket of water, which prevented further damage to her skin and muscles.

Ujjwal and Dhawal — New Life Blossoms

In March 1981, Laxmi became pregnant.

Her Seemantonnayan (baby shower ceremony) was performed before September 20, during the bright fortnight (Ajavaliya Paksha) of the month of Bhadraprad as the Shraddha Paksha (inauspicious fortnight) was approaching soon after her seventh month began.

Being her first pregnancy, following custom, after the ceremony she went to her parents’ village, where she went into early labour and delivered the baby prematurely at home on the night of October 17, 1981, at 9:05 p.m. Laxmi was 20, I was 21, and we had become parents.

Though underweight, the baby boy was clever and cried for the first five days straight.

Because of family traditions and respect for elders, I didn’t visit him right away. When he was two and a half months old, I went for the first time to see him.

I had brought him a blue baby suit and cap.

When I saw him first lying on the cot, my heart melted, all my fatigue disappeared.

Laxmi’s father named him Vishnu, but when I saw him for the first time at two and a half months old, I was so drawn to him that I renamed him Ujjwal.

After Ujjwal’s birth, the friction between Laxmi and me began to fade.

In January 1983, she became pregnant again when Ujjwal was only 15 months old and frail.

We consulted Dr. Hasmukh Shah and his wife, both physicians, and followed their guidance.

On September 16, 1983, at 2.25 p.m. our second son was born at St. Mary’s Nursing Home, Ahmedabad. 

That day I was at work in Gandhinagar, but as soon as I got the news, I rushed to see him - a strong, full-weight, copper-complexioned boy.

Though he too was born a little before full term, he looked healthy and vigorous, easing my worries.

Ujjwal was weak and ate very little, so I often prayed to God: “Please bless us with a second child who is strong and eats well.”

God listened - Dhawal’s appetite never gave us any trouble. His name Dhawal was suggested by my American friend Jayanti Patel.

Now, the moon of our lives shone twice: Ujjwal (bright) and Dhaval (white).

After marriage came my job; after Ujjwal’s birth, I became an officer; after Dhaval’s birth, an IAS.

Ease of Life in company of spouse and children 

Laxmi’s presence made my life far easier. She supported my studies - making tea when I asked, serving hot rotis as I sat for meals, and packing my tiffin every morning, ending my days of fasting for 24 hours.

Balancing my job with preparation for competitive exams became easier.

Each evening when I returned home from Gandhinagar, my fatigue vanished at the sight of the children waiting by the roadside for me.

Invited Fistula

I read newspapers regularly, took part in general knowledge quizzes, and often won. It developed a skill of leaning and experimenting. 

I was deeply interested in Ayurveda, reading Labhshankar Thakar’s short column daily.

I would then visit Vrajlal Gandhi’s shop on Relief Road, buy the recommended herbs, ask Laxmi to powder or process them, and experiment on myself.

But sitting for long hours in the same posture, coupled with taking hot Ayurvedic medicines without regard to season, led me to develop fistula (Bhagandar).

In 1983, I underwent an Ayurvedic Ksharsutra treatment by Vaidya Indubhai Dave in Ahmedabad, but it failed.

He had mistakenly inserted the medicated thread beside the fistula tract, so though the thread cut through the skin and came out, the fistula remained.

Later, in 1986, during my IAS probation training at Godhra, I had surgery performed by Dr. Damor at the Civil Hospital — which finally cured me.

Gifted TB to Laxmi

Laxmi would rise early every morning, work tirelessly through the day, wash all the utensils at night, and sleep last.

The elder sister-in-law managed the cooking; Laxmi handled all other chores — making tea, washing utensils and clothes, splitting firewood, preparing the stove, ironing, and caring for my father.

Though she weighed only 42 kilograms, she worked tirelessly, never complained.

As the younger daughter-in-law, she ate last too finishing whatever remained, often watery curry and scraps of roti.

The harsh life in the slum-like chawl, heavy workload, and poor nutrition weakened her.

She developed a persistent fever.

At the Gandhinagar Civil Hospital, we learned she had early-stage tuberculosis of the lungs.

I became vigilant, arranged proper medical treatment, took care with her diet, and began protecting her from the harsh treatment she often faced at home.

My intervention displeased my mother and brothers, but how could I, who had always stood up against injustice, remain silent when it came to my own wife?

Preparing for IAS in the company of Children 

Life in joint family is not easy when everybody living in scarcity of resources. Even a small electricity bill could be a reason of quarrel. As AMC street light pole reached inside the chawl, I would study for the UPSC under the dim glow of the streetlight located near my house. 

On my left sat Dhawal, on my right Ujjwal and I, between them, holding my book.

It was a sight to remember, had it been the digital age, I would have captured a photo of that precious moment.

Textiles Mills Closed Down in Ahmedabad 

Following recession in textiles Industry, many textiles mills in Ahmedabad shut down in February 1984.

My father and elder brother lost their jobs.

I was a Section Officer, and another elder brother was a bank clerk, so there was no immediate financial crisis.

But in 1985, when news came that I had been selected for the IAS, and that I had to leave my current job and train in Mussoorie for a year, the family was upset.

My mother said, “Don’t go. I don’t want to lose both my son and his salary. What’s wrong with the one you already have?”

Around that time, the youth of our area organized a felicitation ceremony for me at Ramanpura Naka, attended by my father. He didn’t quite understand what the IAS was but knew I had achieved something great.

One elder brother, affected by the mill closure, remained silent; the middle feared he would now bear the full family burden and his attitude toward my family changed.

I was relieved from my Secretariat post on August 23, 1985.

Leaving for Mussoorie 

On August 24, I boarded the Sarvodaya Express from Ahmedabad, bound for Mussoorie.

My entire extended family brothers, sister, brother-in law, nieces, nephews, neighbours from the Chawl, elders like Gangaram Bhagat, Somabha, my brothers-in-law, my friends (Bhikhabhai, AD Patel), busmate  Raman Maheriya, his elder brother Manilal, and Bipin and Motilal joined. My batchmates in SO (Jashwant Acharya, Amrut Bhagat, Harish Madia)- all came to the railway station to see me off. Others like Moolchand Rana, Kamlesh Gordia, and Kirit Adhvaryu were there as well.

Laxmi stood there, shy but teary-eyed, holding our little Ujjwal and Dhawal in her arms.

Six days later, on August 30, it was Raksha Bandhan. My sister Ramilaben tied a rakhi on my wrist right there at the station before bidding me farewell.

It felt as though a bride were leaving her home, with the entire village coming to see her off.

Tears filled my eyes as I waved goodbye to everyone.

On the train, I met Manharbhai Shukla of the Majoor Mahajan Sangh, and we spoke about social development throughout the journey.

The next morning, I reached Delhi, took a bus from the depot to Dehradun, shared a taxi from Dehradun to Mussoorie, reaching by evening.

Back home Laxmi in trouble 

Meanwhile, back home, the moment I had left Ahmedabad, Laxmi faced taunts and torment.

My Secretariat salary stopped, and the stipend from Mussoorie wouldn’t begin until October, creating a one-month gap.

Because of my own expenses for uniforms, mess bills, and other necessities, I could send the first money order only in October.

That gave family members a chance to trouble her which she could no longer bear. Hurt and angry, she left with the two children for her parents’ home.

My mother later went to take her back, stayed a week in Ahmedabad, and then took the family to stay in Bhatariya village.

For about four months, my parents, Laxmi, Ujjwal, and Dhawal stayed there.

While I was lost in the misty hills of Mussoorie, immersed in Lal Bahadur Shastri Academy training and mountain treks, Laxmi, miles away, sat by the field’s edge, keeping watch over our two little sons while harvesting millet or extracting castor seeds under the open sky.

Laxmi’s Courage

But was there real peace even in the village?

There too, life meant endless labour in the fields and worse, the sting of social discrimination.

The village panchayat’s borewell ran on a diesel engine, yet fetching drinking water was a daily Ramayana.

All the upper-caste women would first draw the fresh water from the borewell’s tap, and only after they were done could other fill water — by then, the old and the new water mixed together at the bottom of the tank. They weren’t allowed to wash clothes beside upper-caste women at the washing ghat either.

Laxmi took up a fight. 

She raised her voice openly against this injustice, stood firm before the entire village, and became a pioneer in challenging social inequality right there in her small rural world.

My mother held her in the highest regard. Seeing her fearlessness, she often said with pride, “She’s the tiger of our house.”

19 September 2025