Chhatrapati Sambhajinagar
This Mother's Day, while children rush to wish their mothers, spare a thought for the women who mothered them quietly, thanklessly, and with a full heart.
Her hands have braided countless ponytails, wiped countless tears, and cooked countless meals none of them for her own children. Sunita Bai, 55, of Jaibhavaninagar, has spent three decades moving quietly between the homes of this city. She currently cares for three young children in N-1 area one of 19 families she has held close across a lifetime of silent sacrifice.
"Those children wake up afraid when parents are away in Pune," she says, weathered hands folded gently. "I try to be someone they can come home to." But here is what breaks you: she has two sons of her own both in Pune, both calling her home. "My sons say, Aai, ata yeu ja amcha sobat. And my heart shatters every time," she whispers, eyes wet. "But if I leave who will dry their tears?" So she stays. Through fevers. Through first days of school. Through lonely nights when parents are miles away.
"You have to be a mother, a teacher, and a guard all at once even when your own heart is somewhere else." Women like Sunita Bai are the invisible backbone of this city's homes trusted completely, yet never celebrated. "When my hands stop working, I will go to my sons. But until then these children need me." Nineteen families. Thirty years. A mother to all. Belonging fully to none.