By Shazia Shaikh

“Why is this woman always on that camera, yaar?’’ remarked Shubhi, a rough Konkani slipping off her tongue as she wiped away the sweat from her forehead and settled down on the floor of her two-room house. She reached for a bulging pouch tucked in the folds of her sari and pulled out a small red box. Flicking it open with practiced grace, she pinched a little tobacco that perfectly filled the hollow of her left palm. Eyes fixed upon me, she waited for a response while her right thumb deftly carried on crushing the tobacco into a fine powder that would stain her teeth in a few minutes.

It was December 2020, the end of a remarkable year, with no end to the pandemic in the near future. Needless to say, it came with its own set of blues. The lockdown had taken its toll on me, as with everyone else, but I was finding solace in the streets of Northern Goa. Riding my bike, with the wind in my hair, I set out one evening with the camera strapped to my neck. I had been watching the fields that lined the roads of Morjim for over two weeks. But, on this particular day, I decided to go meandering through them. Amidst the throng of tourists that flocked the beach and the drowning beats of psytrance, those green fields along with its humble people, went completely unnoticed. It was silent and calm, and it drew me in.

That is when I met Shubhi (as I like to call her), and her family.

It was a pleasant evening. They were working on their farm and warmly greeted me. I returned their smile and politely asked if they would pose for me. However, it was late, and the sun had almost set. So, we promised to see each other again at the same place,but earlier in the next evening. It was first contact!

As promised, we met again the following day and every other day after that for over a month. 

Shubhi is a farmer who lives in Morjim, Goa. She is a simple woman who grows vegetables on a patch of land and takes care of her family. But, the law of duality tells us that the deepest complexities come in the simplest form.

Shubhi’s husband had died more than 15 years ago leaving their four children under her care. But, she wasn’t alone. This simple farmer lady has co-existed and lived side by side as a sister with Laxmi, her husband’s first wife, for more than 25-years. Laxmi was rendered barren early on. Not wanting to let the family name die, and most likely under societal pressure, Laxmi surrendered, and her husband re-married.

Both the women, brought together by circumstance and fate, have since supported each other through the hard times and raised four children together as one family.

With each passing observation, I began to understand and explore the tight-knit relationship that they shared. It is the kind of a relationship that comes from a deep sense of mutual respect and admiration for the other, along with a sense of duty and responsibility. They are friends and companions, each holding the ends of the invisible thread that ties their family together.

Over time, the admiration I had for Shubhi extended itself to her entire family and I found myself looking forward to my visits with more and more enthusiasm. And the feeling was mutual.

It became a ritual to meet them for lunch. Laxmi occasionally scolded me for my lean stature and ended up filling my plate with more than what my belly could take. Shubhi enquired about my career aspirations and life back in Mumbai. Meanwhile, Gauri (Shubhi’s younger daughter), Neeta (Shubhi’s daughter-in-law) and I formed a girl gang of our own. Before I knew it, a beautiful friendship had blossomed between us.

I could now discern the differences in their characters and how well their individual personalities complemented each other. What fascinated me the most was the subtle transformation in their character while they were at work on the farm. They were profoundly connected to the soil, almost one with it. They moved with purpose and grace, with a focused gaze. Eyes fixated on the task at hand, they’d often entered a state of meditative silence which was in stark contrast to their carefree and gentle avatars at home. All you could hear were birds and the sound of three-year old Isha running around, giggling.

As someone who’s had the occasional ups and downs with my own family, it was strange that I was developing such a strong bond with this one. I was watching three generations of women, all exuberating mutual love and warmth. The feminine energy that they carried with them, had a soothing effect on the innermost, hidden and troubled parts of my mind. Watching them from the admiring lens of an outsider allowed me to perceive my own family in a new light.

It paved the way to challenging my perceptions and notions of femininity. I had this narrow field of vision where a ‘’domesticated housewife’’ was weak and a ‘’corporate boss lady’’ was strong. I was putting women inside boxes without realizing that I was the one living inside it.

But I unlearned it all.

And though they were modest farmers who work hard every day cultivating the land, they are humble, happy and content. And that’s something that most might never achieve in life. Now I’m not shunning money and cars, but I think most can appreciate the beauty that comes with simplicity. And as complex as the world is today, I believe we need more of the simple things that this fast-paced life can offer.

In a place like Goa, known for its glitz and glamour, its parties and perversions, a family of farmers have managed to continue their quiet and dignified lifestyle. The simple pleasures of life like family and love is the driving force of their life. At the core of it is their connection with nature. The earth not only feeds them, but also helps them maintain the delicate balance of their lives. Their devotion to it, in all its simplicity, in spite of modern life creeping all around them is a marker of their inner strength and fulfilment.

Above all, their innate connection with their environment and with each other, taught me to connect with myself in a whole new way.

This photo-essay documents the women as observed in their house and working on the plantation over a period of one month.

Shazia is a freelance writer and a self-taught photographer based out of Mumbai. She is an avid traveller who likes to explore the remote and rural parts of India in search of stories; meeting people and forming friendships along the way. She graduated from St.Xavier's College (Autonomous), Mumbai with a degree in Advertising and Communications. Shazia wishes to pursue a career as a documentary photographer and is currently working as a content writer in Mumbai.

Banner image by Shazia Shaikh.