The Affectionate Kalpana – my story of class mobility
Swift and total wealth accumulation is a 21st century phenomenon in the developing world. Jari Silomäki says that people who have experienced upward class mobility have been underrepresented in the documentary arts. As a result, he says, the way such people are depicted in popular culture is often very one-sided: saturated with capitalism and the worship of money. The story of Anita from Russia inspired Silomäki to tackle the subject, and he became acquainted with the experiences of upwardly mobile people from seven different countries between 2017-2020. What he discovered was a treasure trove of life stories, each one totally unique.
“Those in my mother’s caste are poor, but her family was an exception. My mother was used to a comfortable life, until she was married into my father’s family. My grandfather was a farmer and he helped fund my father’s education. He became a police officer. My father took care of me, my four siblings, my mother, my grandfather, and my uncle on 300 rupees a month.
Families were anxious to find husbands for their daughters quickly. I received my first marriage proposal when I was 10 years old. My uncle wanted to get rid of me. My father insisted that I be allowed to study until the tenth grade. He was able to keep me in school until seventh grade. That’s when my uncle found a boy for me in Bombay. My uncle thought I was ugly, so if the boy from Bombay would consent to marry me, I would have to take the opportunity.
I was 12 years old when I had my wedding. I didn’t understand what it meant, and I didn’t want to move away from home. I arrived in Bombay with my much older spouse and I went into shock. Our apartment was in a slum; the roof leaked when it rained and earthworms would squirm on the floor. My husband’s brother, his wife, and their five children lived with us in the same room.
I took care of all the domestic work, but if I made a mistake, my sister-in-law would grab me by the hair and slam my head into a wall. She complained to me to my brother-in-law, who dialled up the violence: he threw me to the floor and stamped on me with his feet. The first six months of my marriage I cooked, cleaned, and was beaten constantly.
My husband felt sympathy for me, but there was nothing he could do. My brother-in-law taught my husband to drink. When my husband got drunk, he also started hitting me. I wasn’t given enough food or clothes. I had to take a cold bath every morning at 4 am. My work was done by 8 pm. I brushed my hair in secret, otherwise my brother-in-law would accuse me of planning to go out and pick up men.
My father was able to travel to Bombay on the pretense of a business trip. When I saw him I ran into his arms, hugged him, and wept. My father could barely recognize me. I had lost weight and I was dirty. My father tried to take me with him, but my husband’s family called in reinforcements and locked us in the house. My fahter was able to push them all aside. I was terrified. Back in my hometown people would constantly berate me. I was told to be ashamed for abandoning my husband and his family. It was normal for girls to be beaten. I went into a deep depression. I bought three bottles of poison used to exterminate bedbugs. I drank them all and fell unconsious to the floor. My mouth foamed. My aunt walked in and screamed. The villagers rushed to the scene. There was a man among them who mistook my condition for an epileptic seizure. He tried to open my mouth with his finger; I bit it off with my teeth. In the hospital the doctors were able to revive me and a day later I was conscious.
I returned to school, but I could no longer concentrate. I learned to sew and I became a tailor. I wanted to go to Bombay, which my father opposed. My mother accompanied me and we took lodging at my mother’s uncle’s house. He didn’t really know what to do with us, because the room was so small. He knew a family that would put me up. I got a job. I was paid 250 rupees a month. I saw a 100-rupee bill for the first time in my life.
I learned to travel by train in Bombay. At that time my father was fired. He had loaned his friend some equipment from the police warehouse, who promised to return everything. Right then a team came in to do an inventory review of the facility. My father was dishonored, and he started drinking heavily. My family no longer had a place to live and no money. My mother had been used to a comfortable life in her youth; now she had to work on farms. I suggested they move to Bombay.
I provided for a six-person family. My sister was ill and we needed money for medicine. I walked ten kilometers to work to save just 60 paise, less than one rupee. After my sister’s death I thought about what I could do to improve the situation. I heard about a government program to grant loans to educated young people. I ran around the city and visited different offices looking for help. Finally one man was able to assist me. I wanted to establish a furniture showroom. The loan came through, and I earned 500—1,000 rupees per piece of furniture. I was able to attend to the basic needs of my family. I gained self-confidence, and founded a company that works to improve the lives of educated, unemployed young people. Many found jobs through the organization, and my name became more widely known.
I heard rumors of a parcel of land emrboiled in some sort of legal confusion. The area in question was zoned for farming, and the owner was desperate for money. I didn’t have the full sum, but I borrowed the rest. My friends said nothing good would come out of the purchase. I wanted to rezone the land. For two and a half years I consulted with officials of all kinds. Due to my efforts, the value of the land grew a hundred-fold. I contacted a local building company and suggested a cooperation. I entered the construction industry.
The mafia harrassed my projects, but their threats and tactics didn’t work on me. The mafia hired contract killers. One of them recognized my name. His family had secured a loan with my help. This person felt remorse, and rushed to warn me. I went to the police station, and they promptly discovered the identities of the assassins and arrested them. The police chief offered me his protection. I asked for a handgun, and was granted a license in record time.
My construction project was completed and I made two million US dollars in profit. I started on new properties. My reputation began to spread, and I ended up managing a sugar factory in Maharashtra, while still engaged in construction.
The Kamani Tubes factory shuttered two of its three plants. The workers owned the factory. The company employees asked for help. The futures of three thousand people were at stake. I decided to step in. I went through the company’s debt settlements and discovered that the debt was mostly interest. I then visited the Minister of Finance, and asked that the company should only stand to pay the debt capital, not the interest. The minister comprehended the urgency of the situation, and accepted my proposal. The court ordered ownership of the company be returned to the workers. I stayed on in the reins. A thirty million dollar debt transformed into a million dollars in profit.
The streets in my hometown had no names. Two streets in Bombay are named after me. There is an influential deity in India called Bhagavān or Bhagwan. I am called Mada Bhagwan. I have done what the gods could not. I have helped the poor and the despairing.”
– D.R Kalpana Saroj
“I was born in a small mountain town right on the border between Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan. I was nine years old when the Soviet Union collapsed. I sold metal and old household objects, until I found gasoline. It was cheaper in Uzbekistan than in Kyrgyzstan. I transported two ten-liter canisters over the border by bicycle, and the soldiers didn’t inspect children. (If you tilted the canister, you could fit in an extra liter.)
My uncle was a wrestler, he taught me to fight. My other uncle was a doctor, he taught me how to earn money. I loved them both very much. I brawled my way through school with bloody fists until 9th grade, when I started working in a restaurant.
I was infatuated with a girl from school. In our culture, the oldest son in the family must have his wedding before any younger brothers. Girls must be married by age 22. My big brother didn’t have a wife, and my crush found a husband of her own. I went off to study medicine.
My uncle arranged for me to intern in the ER, where I saw two deaths in two hours. I quickly switched to law school. I waited tables in the evenings. I partied and drank. One night my friend brought out some weed. I was against drugs. I walked out into the pouring rain and bought my first ever train ticket. I traveled for three days to Moscow in a regular passenger seat.
I found work in a gas station café. I lived in the changing room of a stadium and guarded the premises by night. When a restaurant called Little Tokyo opened in town, I applied and was hired. I worked around the clock as a bartender. I slept on a pile of laundry in the back room in the wee hours. After a month the accountant congratulated me, as there were 30,000 rubles extra in the till. One morning I fell asleep at the bar, and I was demoted to a waiter. Two months later two million rubles went missing from the register. I got my old job back.
I helped out the owner of the restaurant. My colleagues accused me of sucking up to him. I didn’t know what that meant. First he gave me small tasks. I spoke with him and learned many things. He first appointed me manager, then senior manager. I managed eight restaurants at once. I never had time to eat anything but McDonald’s fast food. I injured my esophagus as a result, and I was given another position. I opened a night club and a modeling agency. I wanted beautiful women in my club.
I quit while I was on top. I traveled to Beijing, Frankfurt, Amsterdam, and Naples. I wanted to be happy. Moscow had taught me a variety of world views, so I returned. I came up with a company that established restaurants as turnkey operations; my life and income improved rapidly.
I was sitting in the lobby of the Green House café. I was waiting for a customer, who was running late. The road had been closed because of Putin. I posted a photo on Instagram. Someone else had uploaded their image a moment before, of the same place. I went to talk to them. I was enamored, but I didn’t get her number.
I found this same woman through social media, on VKontakte. I borrowed a dented Volkswagen and asked her out to a cheap Japanese restaurant. We got married 45 days after we first met. I felt truly happy for the first time in my life. Our wedding was small. We’ll have a bigger one when I have enough time. Our daughter was born in May.”
– Oybek Haidaraliyev
“I couldn’t even read when I first saw a fashion magazine. I looked at the pictures and fell in love. The magazine Priew included fabrics from Toi Nakhorn and Issey Miyake, which were like paintings to me. I started dreaming of studying fashion design.
In ninth grade I started dressing like a girl. I borrowed my big sister’s clothes in secret. After a party the dress I had taken smelled like cigarettes, so I hid it at my friend’s house. The next morning my sister was searching for the dress. She told my mother, who grew angry because she thought our housekeeper had stolen it. The housekeeper quit her job. I fetched the dress and pretended to have found it by accident. My mother and sister seemed to guess the truth.
There was no fashion design school in Bangkok, so I chose architecture instead. Coincidentally, my aunt married a man who operated a bed-and-breakfast in Wales. I soon followed them, and got in to study fashion in Birmingham, England. After my studies I returned to Thailand, where I created fabrics for Pong, Akhai, Jiab, Phichita, and Chab Chakkarati.
An acquaintance recommended me to clothing company Jaspar. They had a rule that designers must retire at age 55. I felt afraid of growing old. I decided to make clothes of my own while also working at Jaspar. I presented my fashion line to the London fashion brand called Martin, and I was hired. I paid my employees with my salary from Jaspar. In the end, one of my employees took over the business. I started from scratch again.
I had no capital, so I rented a spot from the Chatuchak weekend market. Everyone set up their products in the market stalls early in the morning, and the competition for customers began. I sold shirts made with laser cutting. I made enough money in a few weeks to afford a new apartment. Instead I opened a shop. I combined different styles, remade torn and dirty clothes into new pieces, and utilized every shred of material.
The clothing market was winding down, but people kept buying my clothes. I had become successful, even though I didn’t measure success in terms of money. I was able to work a job that I loved, and create exactly the kind of clothes I wanted. Every new model and every clothing line I produced had a unique history.
My greatest joy in life is how my mother and I take care of each other. My friends use the expression: ‘That which once was a monster in the closet is now a beautiful angel, like the sky after a storm.'”
– Keng Marar
“I was born four years before my brother in a small city in the state of Tamil Nadu. Our family was well off, and we were both educated in an urban Indian school. I was able later to study engineering in Warangal. During that time I learned courage and built my character. My brother studied in Mumbai and graduated from business school.
After my studies, I worked with my brother in our father’s company. I started a company of my own, but it went belly-up. It was a bitter lesson in monetary loss. In 1997 I founded a company based on testing and quality control services. The first decade was hard, but then orders started coming in regularly.
My parents arranged a meeting with a woman, which was followed by discussions, some wooing, a brief engagement, and a wedding. Our daughter was born in Mumbai. She switched school eight time in 12 years, as we moved around because of the company.
We ended up in Abu Dhabi, when we expanded our business into gas and oil. We acquired all the latest technological innovations, and in four years we cornered 40 percent o the Abu Dhabi market.
We got out of gas and oil, and invested our money in the construction industry. We started many projects in Dubai; the city was growing at incredible speed. Then India’s financial wealth started increasing, too, and we started an accounting company. We were in two industries at once, and our goal was to get a lot ofpeople involved in our services, to increase the value of the organization, and to develop the know-how of our employees.
My daughter is 19 years old and studying in an American university. I’ve been married for 25 years. I’ve worked together with my brother all my life. My parents are still alive. My father was still involved in our business some five years ago. We are following in his footsteps. We have about 15-20 years left in us.”
– Sudakar Rao and family
“I was born in Udup in 1942. Our home was in a secluded coastal region on the Persian Gulf. Fishermen would bring us fish in exchange for rice, milk, and grain.
My mother knew how to treat snake bites and rabies. My father was a politician and a freedom fighter. He was a part of the Indian resistance movement alongside Mahatma Gandhi.
I went to school in Kapu, in a village school for the children of fishermen. I was chosen as the chair of the student board. I did not excel academically, but because of my position I had to study hard.
After school I applied to enrol in an aviation academy. The maximum age limit was 20 years. I got into an interview, but I had turned 21 years old one day earlier. I decided to train as a pharmacist in Manipal.
I was of marrying age, but my family had to arrange a husband for my sister first. The bank granted us a loan for my sister’s dowry. I didn’t want to fall back on my loan repayments, so I went in search of work in Abu Dhabi. I had eight dollars in my pocket. I went to job interviews; in the evenings I washed my clothes, laid them out to dry, and left for more interviews in the morning. Finally a certain pharmaceutical distributor asked me over to his house for lunch. He kept a medicine stock in his back room. I suggested that I could sell the drugs door to door. I was the first traveling salesman of Abu Dhabi.
In a year I became the drug company’s executive director. I got a driver’s license and bought a Honda Civic. I had a fender bender with the chef from the Hilton hotel outside Clock Tower. Only the front light of his car was damaed, but he sued for the price of the entire vehicle. I denied having done wrong. The judge gave me five days to pay the full reimbursement. When I had paid the 750 dirhams ordered by the court, I told them the car belonged to me. I sold it for 8,000 dirhams and paid off my bank loan. After that I got another loan, and started my company.
My parents found me a girl; a doctor. We got married in Bombay. My wife became the first doctor in my practice. We worked nonstop for decades. We now have four children and eight grandchildren. Our company has 187 hospitals in 20 different countries. We direct 50 percent of our assets to the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation. Sheikh Zayed bestowed upon me the highest civilian honor in Abu Dhabi. I wear the medal every day.”
– Dr. BR Shetty and family
