“I am just a factory laborer, and you expect me to become rich?” Namrataโs father muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. His hands, calloused from years of hard labor, gripped the edge of his worn-out chair. His eyes, dull with hopelessness, refused to meet mine.
I let his words settle in the air for a moment before asking, “Why not?”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “๐ ๐ฏ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐น๐ ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ป ๐ฒ๐ป๐ผ๐๐ด๐ต ๐๐ผ ๐ฝ๐๐ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ผ๐ฑ ๐ผ๐ป ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ฎ๐ฏ๐น๐ฒ. ๐ฅ๐ถ๐ฐ๐ต๐ป๐ฒ๐๐ ๐ถ๐๐ปโ๐ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ผ๐ฝ๐น๐ฒ ๐น๐ถ๐ธ๐ฒ ๐๐.”
There it wasโthe deep-rooted belief that poverty is permanent, that scarcity is inherited like a family name. And yet, in the same breath, he spoke of his worries: how he might have to push Namrata into domestic work, or marry her off early because “there is no other way.”
“But what if there is?” I leaned forward. “What if Namrata had skills that could take her further? What if she could study, work, and bring a better future for herselfโand for you?”
He fell silent. The weight of generations of struggle sat on his shoulders. But so did a question he had never dared to ask: What if things could be different?
That conversation stayed with me. It made me realize that we arenโt just working with girlsโwe need to work with their hashtag#parents. Because when fathers and mothers stop seeing their daughters as burdens and start seeing them as possibilities, the cycle of poverty cracks open.
This isnโt just about empowering girls. Itโs about shifting mindsets. Itโs about making families dream bigger. Itโs about turning parents into stakeholders in their daughtersโ futures.
Because richness is not a privilege. It is basic. Lakshya Jeevan Jagriti