Chanda knew struggle before she knew comfort. At her parents’ home in Ahmedabad, she watched her mother take up domestic work to keep the family afloat. By 14, Chanda was walking the same path — washing utensils, cleaning floors, and doing laundry in the bungalows of Manekbaug Society.
The families she worked for were kind. One couple, Bhai and Bhabhi, always told her the same thing: “Chanda, don’t stop studying. Education is the only wealth no one can take from you.” At the time, she smiled and nodded. But after Class 10, she dropped out. Marriage took her to a small village in North Gujarat.
Life there was harder. Her husband Dheeru was not supportive. He drank desi liquor daily and dismissed the idea of educating their daughter Aboli. “What will she do with studies?” he would say. But Chanda knew exactly what education could do. She took a job as a helper at the government Anganwadi, studied at night, and slowly completed her BA. She became an assistant teacher in the village school.
When Aboli was 10, Dheeru died from contaminated liquor. Chanda was alone, with a child and a salary that barely covered basics. That day she made two promises. First, she would give Aboli the best education possible. Second, she would never let her daughter know how hard it really was.
She returned to Ahmedabad to meet Bhai and Bhabhi. They did not hesitate. They took over Aboli’s school fees, supported Chanda’s expenses, and told her one thing: “Study. Become independent. We will handle the rest. But don’t tell Aboli until she finishes her education.”
Chanda kept her word. She taught by day, studied by night, and raised a daughter who believed her mother was invincible.
Years passed.
One morning, Chanda sat by the window, restless. It was Aboli’s MBBS result day. She was confident her daughter would do well, but a mother’s heart is never calm on such days. The doorbell rang. Aboli ran in and hugged her. “Mom, you are now Dr. Aboli’s mother.”
Chanda could not speak. Tears filled her eyes. “Let’s go to the temple,” she whispered.
Aboli nodded. “Let’s go.”
“No,” Chanda said. “Pack your bag. We are going to Ahmedabad to worship God.”
“Why Ahmedabad?” Aboli asked.
“Because that’s where my temple is.”
They reached Ahmedabad and took an auto to Manekbaug Society. After 30 minutes, they stopped in front of a familiar bungalow. Chanda paid the driver and turned to Aboli. “Don’t ask questions. Just come with me.”
She knocked. An elderly woman opened the door. An old man stood behind her. Chanda touched the woman’s feet, tears streaming down her face. “Bhabhi, meet your Dr. Aboli.”
The couple smiled. Aboli touched their feet too, still confused.
Chanda turned to her daughter. “Aboli, whatever we are today is because of them. Before marriage, I worked in this house for seven years. They told me to study, but I didn’t listen. When your father passed, I came back to them. They paid for your school, my college, our home. They told me not to tell you until you completed your studies. For us, Bhai and Bhabhi are God. And their home is our temple.”
Aboli stood frozen, tears now in her own eyes.
Bhabhi held her hand. “Beta, we did nothing. What Chanda gave our family is priceless.” She looked at Chanda. “When we moved here 30 years ago, we were alone. Chanda was 14 when she first came with her mother. Soon she became our backbone. When our daughter was born premature, Chanda stayed with me day and night. She traveled with us to Mumbai to meet our parents. We kept asking her to study, but she refused. Only after your father’s death did she understand. And she did it. She became a teacher.”
Bhai added, “We don’t always know who will be a _devdoot_ in our life. Chanda was ours. Helping her family was our responsibility. Don’t feel obligated. What she gave us cannot be measured.”
The room was quiet except for the sound of quiet tears.
Sometimes, people enter our lives for a reason. It is not coincidence. It is destiny. We may owe them from a past life, or we may be paying it forward for the next. As humans, our duty is simple: help, uplift, and stand by each other. Because when you lift one life, that life will lift another.
And that is how the world changes — one Chanda, one Aboli, one act of kindness at a time.
