Wet Clothes, a Pulley, and a Woman Who Was Not Done Yet 🌸

Hi Friends!

Welcome back to another episode of a flumberer's life. This one is fresh - about two weeks old. And the moment I witnessed it, I knew it had to be the next chapter on this page.

A little context first

Mumbai is currently in its signature mood - the one where the monsoon cannot decide if it is coming or going. Some days your clothes dry beautifully under actual sunshine. Other days, the combined effort of a machine dryer and whatever the sun is doing up there simply is not enough.

This story is from one of those days.

But before we get to the day itself, let us rewind a little.

About three to three and a half weeks before I wrote this, the pulley cloth dryer at my mother in law's place gave up on life. Suddenly and without warning, as things tend to do in a flumberer's world. It took a few days to arrange the right ropes and equipment to fix it. Once we had everything in place, the stage was set.

The day of the incident

It started as a perfectly ordinary morning. Bhanu and I woke up, worked through our usual chores — dusting, cleaning, putting things back where they belong, and yoga on the days we are feeling particularly motivated and slightly delusional about how the rest of the day will go. 😄

Once we finished our side of things, Bhanu headed next door to his parents' place. I stayed back for a bit before following about fifteen to twenty minutes later.

When I walked in, I found Bhanu standing tall, using every centimetre of his height to try and fix the pulley system. His mom was sitting on the sofa nearby, looking a little restless. I did not think too much of it, went into the kitchen, made myself some chai, and returned to the living room a few minutes later.

Same scene. Bhanu still at it. His mom still watching.

That is when she said it.

"Sonu, niche utro. Hum kar lenge."

She said it two or three times before Sonu finally stepped down.

It was only later that I found out she had already been at it for over an hour before Bhanu even walked into the room. And the moment he saw her struggling, he did what any well meaning person does — he tried to help. As did I, shortly after. The intentions were good. The execution, however, was not asked for.

Here is the thing. She had installed this pulley before. She knew exactly what she was doing. What she needed was not help. What she needed was a little space and a little faith.

Round two

After Bhanu stepped down and headed off to get ready for the day, his mom quietly went back to work. She walked to another room to study how a similar pulley had been installed there. She came back, studied the ropes, studied the angles, and started threading them through the right holes with steady, patient hands.

I was standing nearby at this point, and I will be honest — I tried to suggest a different approach. Something along the lines of "maybe try it this way instead."

She turned around, looked at me calmly, and said — "Maine pehle yeh kiya hai. Main kar lungi."

And that is when it clicked for me.

This was not just about the pulley.

On some days, a small task becomes more than what it appears to be on the surface. It becomes a hurdle you want to cross on your own terms. A tiny, personal victory on an otherwise ordinary day. Like finally tallying a balance sheet after hours of trying. Or like finally organizing your cupboard after three weeks of telling yourself you will do it tomorrow. That kind of victory. 😄

Small wins. The kind that nobody else notices but you feel in your whole chest.

That is what this was for her. I could sense it.

So I stepped back. Moved to the corner. Close enough in case she needed anything, far enough to stay out of her way.

Round three — the plot thickens

Shortly after, my father in law walked in — fresh vegetables in bulk in both hands, clearly returning from the market. He took one look at his wife mid mission, set everything down on the floor without a second thought, and went straight to help her. 😄

My mother in law and I exchanged glances but said nothing. Let him try.

He tried.

He also could not do it.

I could see my mother in law's patience thinning at this point - the kind of expression you make when you know the answer in class but the teacher keeps calling on everyone else first. 😄

The final chapter 🌸

This was the moment she decided enough was enough.

She walked to the kitchen, came back with the portable ladder, placed it in the balcony, climbed up, fixed her specs, and got to work. Pulling, pushing, threading the ropes through the holes from different angles, completely focused and completely unbothered by anyone watching.

This time I knew she was not coming down until it was done.

At some point she asked me to hold her specs because they were getting in the way. I held them. I watched her thread the final rope through the right column and pull the pulley up.

Up it went. Smooth as butter on warm bread.

And just like that, order had been restored.

I looked at Bhanu and whispered, "She did it."

I wanted to say something to her directly, to acknowledge what she had just done. But it felt like one of those moments that did not need a big reaction. It just needed to be witnessed quietly and respected.

And I think all of us, in that room, were proud of her. Because she had been at this for two to two and a half hours, and she had done it entirely on her own terms.

What did I take away from this?

Our lives are made of big moments and small ones. The big ones are easy to remember. But I genuinely believe it is the small ones where the real lessons live.

Anyone hearing this story would say - it is just a pulley. It happens in every home. And they would be right.

But pay attention to these moments. Because they carry something important if you are willing to look.

My father has always said something that stayed with me. Every time one of us - me, my sister, my brother - tried something new, even something as simple as a new recipe or a new way of decorating the house during festivals, he would say, "Karne do usse. Tabhi woh sikhegi."

In those moments, without even realising he was doing it he was building our confidence. He was quietly saying - I trust you. I know you can do this.

This day was the same for Bhanu's mom. Everyone around her had the right intention when they tried to help. The love was genuine and nobody meant any harm. But I think on this particular day, all she wanted was one small victory to call her own. And all we had to do was step back, show a little faith, and let her take the lead.

Maybe those two hours of struggling did something for her that a quick fix never could have.

I know watching it did something for me. And maybe that is exactly why I am writing about a pulley at midnight. 😄🌸