My name is Chandra Devi. I was born in Tanakpuri and the Raji Janjaathi is both my identity and my sense of home. I speak Kumaoni, Hindi and Jindari. I was taken out of school after grade 5, even though I loved learning. I was married into a family in Kantooli village when I was 14 years old, incidentally the same age as my son Chandan is today. (I will make sure he finishes school and has every opportunity I didn’t, growing up.) Today, I earn a living through Roopaee, Dhaan and weaving together dry grass that we use as mats to sit on. Sometimes, I crush stones. Usually, I manage to bring home between 300 rupees and 500 rupees every day.
I owe a great deal to the many years of friendship I share with ARPAN. They are my chosen family. I first met them in 2002 when Kheema Di and Renu Di would visit our villages and talk to all our women on a regular basis. They offered to look after our little ones for hours on end – when compelled by circumstance – we went out to work, leaving our children behind. Not only did they watch over our children as though they were their own; they would play with them, change their clothes, nourish them, keep them safe and offer them love. It doesn’t take much to know when someone really cares for you. If our children matter to you, you will always matter to us.
Speaking to me today, you would never guess that I was once an incredibly quiet, timid person who didn’t know what it meant to use their voice. I would slink away if someone tried to talk to me, I would refuse to make eye contact. I dreaded being asked to say something. I would hesitate, I would swallow my words, I would run and hide. I am 41 years old today – and no one will ever be able to stop me from saying what I think and feel. No one is allowed to wield that kind of power over me. None of this would be my truth if I hadn’t found ARPAN when I did. Every meeting I attended made me want to attend the next one. I would sit right at the back but I would listen.
There were discussion on everything that affected our lives – the fact that little girls married as early as I did, the fact that we didn’t have the opportunity to finish school, the fact that the work we did was seldom valued, the fact that our own husbands would sometimes stand in our way.
Before my relationship with ARPAN became the fabric of my being, I didn’t have a sense of my own agency, nor an appreciation of my own abilities and aspirations. I learned that there is strength in numbers. That women are heard when they speak in one voice – when they speak up for one another. I saw with my own eyes, the difference sisterhood can make to one’s ability to assert oneself. I believe in myself because ARPAN found me when they did. I believe in myself because ARPAN believes in me. I will never be able to accurately convey to you just how precious a gift that is, or how much it means to me.