I earn.

Meena is a generous, effusive, open-hearted Indian woman. If she lived in Amercia, she would be strutting around in too-expensive jeans, yelling “girrrrlfriend” as she checked out my boyfriend, and kicking some major booty in her sales job.

But Meena is an Indian wife. When she was 19 she married Mahesh in an arranged marriage. She admits she couldn’t tell if she liked Mahesh in their first meeting, but her father was happy and that was enough (apparently her father was concerned she would not find a proper husband because she is short).

Meena moved from her home in Chennai to Mahesh’s (and Mahesh’s mother, father, brother, sister-in-law, sister and 3 nephews) home in Mysore. She quickly learned to make the favorite foods, maintain the house and keep her persnickety mother-in-law happy. She said she was like Rena but with no income. Two children and seven years later, Meena was going through some tough times. Her last son was a difficult birth and didn’t listen or obey (he still doesn’t - a few times I wanted to let Meena know that in America people call it “Attention Deficit Disorder”). Her co-sister (sister-in-law) was focused on learning computers so all of the care for the household fell on Meena’s shoulders. And her own mother was going through some sad times – not eating, not getting out of bed. Unfortunately, Meena let me know that Indian tradition no longer lets her spend time with her mother. Once she got married, all of her attention must go to her mother-in-law and if she spent too much time talking or visiting her sick mother in Chennai, people would chat. After an hour of hearing about her mother’s illness, I wanted to let her know that in America, people call this “depression.” And people would call the ‘ole Indian mother-in-law rule “outrageous.”

But “after much praying” things started to change. Mahesh moved the family into a new home, Meena persuaded him to let a room to a yoga student. A few yoga students later, a Nigerian woman convinced Meena to start selling silver jewelry. And one year later, Meena has a thriving business selling silver to the 100 or so yoga students who are in Mysore at any given time. This lady can sell. “No, no, no,” she denies, blushing, “the gods are just very, very good to me.”

“I never thought I could be so lucky. Here I am, just a normal Indian housewife, and now look at me. I earn. I know people from all over the world,” she tells me proudly as we page through her guest book.

Meena let me know that the entire “competition” complex she had with her co-sister is now gone. Her mother-in-law’s nagging is just a mumble in the background. And even Mahesh is proud (and a little jealous she whispers) of her earning. She says she is so happy because it is no more just cooking and housework and children and mother-in-laws and silence around Mahesh’s friends. It is also now earning and that, says Meena, is “all mine.”