Hard-Work for What?

My granny was the hardest-working person I knew. Ever since she married my grandfather, she aspired to be as wealthy as her siblings, who had big houses, fancy cars, and a fine lifestyle. Granny wanted to have everything they had, and maybe even more. Though my grandfather ran a small business, it wasn’t enough for her. So, she rented a bookshop and asked my father to run it. My father was also hardworking but approached things in a relaxed manner, which Granny didn’t appreciate. She constantly pushed him, giving him more work, yet he remained unruffled. Granny often took my father for granted, thinking him a fool or naive.

Every single morning at 4 a.m., Granny would get up and perform her rituals for an hour. She managed all the household work with the help of her two daughters-in-law, and in between, she would knit and stitch our clothes to save every single penny. From noon to 2 p.m., she would go to the shop to ensure everything was in order, returning again in the evening. One hot summer afternoon, when everyone was napping in a cool room, I heard a hammering noise from the other room. At first, I tried to ignore it, but it was too disturbing. I was surprised that everyone else was sleeping through it. Quietly, I stepped out to investigate. The noise was coming from the hottest room in our house. Who could be there? I pushed the door hard to open it. It was Granny, busy binding books for the shop, dripping in sweat.

I asked her, “What are you doing here in this hot room? You’re sweating like hell.”

With her eyes down, she replied, “I have to raise the shop’s income. I’m fine here.”

“But we all help you with this work every evening,” I protested.

“I’m getting things ready for the evening to save time,” she explained.

I hurriedly left the room. It was intolerably hot. I couldn’t imagine how she managed to sit there for hours working with the door closed, while I could barely stand it for a few minutes.

I kept thinking about it. We had a big house, a car, and all the comforts. Why would anyone put themselves through such hardship? I never saw her joking, smiling, chatting, or having fun with family or anyone else. She never bought anything for herself—only property and gold, but for whom?

Time passed, and I became professionally qualified. With every raise, I bought new clothes and other things to look good at my office. It seemed normal. Despite being occupied for 8 to 9 hours a day, I felt a gnawing emptiness. I thought maybe the company of this person or that would help, but nothing lasted. Meanwhile, my office decided to shut down, and I had to find another job.

One evening, as I walked home from my job at 22 years old, I stopped at a magazine corner to look for employment news. Suddenly, I thought, “Do I need this kind of life, working 8 hours from morning till evening? Is this what I really want?”

I was tired of rushing and hitting targets. It made me stressed and anxious, and I didn’t like it. That day, I decided to take only part-time jobs to cover my daily expenses.

I often think about granny. Only a relaxed person can manage to do so much work. So why didn’t her relentless activity bring her happiness and contentment? Why did she keep herself so occupied?