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She Plies an Ancient Profession in Rural Punjab:
Kuldip Kaur

ANJU AGNIHOTRI

 

 

 




As the clock strikes 9 pm, Kuldip Kaur sets out of her house armed with a khunda (a long, wooden stick) and a big torch.

There are few people out at this time in Bangiwal, a remote village in Jalandhar district located on the banks of the Sutlej in Punjab, though today is an exception.

The village is holding a rein sabahi (night-long prayer session) and people have gathered under a brightly lit tent singing kirtan.

For Kuldip, that’s both good news and bad.

Good because, unlike other nights, she won’t be the only one up while the rest of the village retires to bed by 9 pm; bad because she needs to be even more alert as most of the houses are empty with people at the gathering on the outskirts of Bangiwal.

Kuldip, in her mid-40s, is one of only two women among the 13,500 “chowkidars” appointed by the government to guard Punjab’s 13,000 villages at night. The other, Razia Begum, is a guard at Bir, 15 km away. Kuldip does her rounds, intermittently calling out villagers’ names and saying ‘Jaagde raho!' (Keep Awake).

Every night, after her children have had their dinner, Kuldip eats a light meal before setting out, dressed in a salwar-kameez, her head covered with a dupatta. She does a quick check of the several lanes in the village before coming around to the main street by 9.30 pm.

Here, she takes her first break at a chabootra (platform) built around an old banyan tree, where the men play cards during the day. After resting for about 20 minutes, she gets up for her second round, now covering the other corner of Bangiwal.

The village, with a population of around 1,000, has approximately 250 houses spread over 3 sq km. She can’t afford breaks longer than that.

Kuldip’s second round lasts more than an hour, and takes her close to her own house. Here, her son Luvpreet Singh meets her. The fourth of her six children and the elder of her two sons, the quiet 15-year-old is worried about his mother.

“I study till 11 pm and then come and spend an hour with her as I feel scared when she moves alone at night,” says the Class X student.

Kuldip smiles indulgently. “I ask him not to worry, that I will take care of myself and the village as well, but after all, a child is a child,” she says. “I send him back by 12 though, as he has to attend school in the morning.”

Around 11:15 pm, on her third round, as Kuldip stops outside a house and calls out the name of the owner along with ‘Jaagde raho!’ there is a furious response from inside.

Aap taan tu saari raat be-araam hona hi hai, saanu kyon kardi hai vaajan maar-maar ke?” (You are stuck with being uncomfortable all night, but why do you have to disturb us too with your yells?)

 
[Courtesy: Indian Express. Edited for sikhchic.com]
October 20, 2014
 

Conversation about this article

1: Rup Singh (Canada), October 20, 2014, 9:45 PM.

Brave woman. I hope the chowkidars are paid well for this dangerous and thankless job done in all kinds of weather. For Kuldip Kaur's sake, I hope nothing ever goes wrong on her watch because the very person who complains that she disturbs their sleep will be the first to cast blame on her for not doing her job if something goes wrong.

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