It takes courage to start from scratch and build something from the ground up. Our member, Ms A. Poddar, recalls her husband’s sudden move to Durgapur and his efforts to establish the family jewellery store.

When I got married, I moved to Kolkata. My husband and I used to stay at my brother-in-law’s house, along with his three nephews and three nieces. We had a lot of fun together. Then one day, my husband told me he wished to move away. I had no way of knowing his reasons, nor did he clarify them to me. But he had made up his mind that we would move to Durgapur, where his parents and his younger brother, Amol, lived. Within 2–3 days, we left Kolkata.
We settled in immediately. My parents-in-law were very happy that we had moved in with them. But my husband, who was then unemployed, grew anxious. He tried his hand at several things but quickly lost interest in whatever he took up. Ultimately, he decided to manage my father-in-law’s jewellery store. He received a lot of help from the family—Amol, a very kind boy, supported his elder brother financially, and my father-in-law guided him at every step. Even my elder brother visited and helped us in whatever way he could.
Our store used to be in Chandidas Market. Those were very difficult days; the future was uncertain. We had no artisans of our own, and my husband would have to travel to another town to get his gold designed and crafted into jewellery pieces. Commuting in those days was difficult—there weren’t many buses connecting places. My husband used to walk to the next town and back.
Finally, he found an artisan. With our parents’ blessings, some work started to trickle in. My father-in-law used to say, “Don’t worry, everything will sort itself out.” His reassurance would put me at ease. My brother-in-law Amol’s contribution was immense; I will never forget it. Through it all, slowly but surely, my husband and I learned to support each other. We soon found another artisan, and work began to pick up. We expanded the store, and more customers started to come in.
Then one day, my father-in-law passed away. It was a dark time for us. I felt lost—but I also felt his blessings with us. Our income grew, and we were able to buy a new house. Our children grew up.
My mother-in-law then fell ill. We tried to cure her, but all our efforts were in vain. She soon passed, leaving us devastated.
After five more years passed, one day I heard we would have to demolish the store and sell the land. It was disheartening to see years of effort razed to the ground. But we were happy that we had built something meaningful with our lives.
I live with these old memories now. They have outlived so many of our near and dear ones. They have outlived the store. I have learned that there is nothing more important than the support we are able to give our loved ones. I want to pass on the blessings of my in-laws to my son now. I hope and pray that he grows up to be successful and happy.

(As narrated to Support Elders by our member)

On National Technology Day, our member Mr N. Sengupta reflected on the remarkable transformation technology has brought to our lives. He weighs the gains and the losses of our fast-changing world.

Technology has become an inseparable part of our lives. Its rapid strides have rendered an entire way of life obsolete and ushered in a new one. While I welcome this change, I sometimes feel we’ve grown too dependent on it.
Take smartphones, for instance—they’ve become our world. If I misplace mine, it feels like part of my life is unravelling elsewhere. In the days of the landline, there wasn’t as much anxiety. Few homes had telephones in the 1980s. I had one at my office desk, but we installed a landline at home only in 1993. Until then, most of our correspondence happened through postcards and inland letters. It was a habit of mine to check the letterbox whenever I entered or left the house. We don’t even have letterboxes anymore!
There was a sweet anticipation in waiting for letters—to wait for the postman, to open an envelope or inland letter, and read the contents inside. Every sender’s handwriting had a unique style, almost like a voice. One glance at the handwriting, and we knew who it was from. That personal touch deepened the connection in a way today’s messages rarely do. Sure, we now wake up to ‘Good Morning’ messages on WhatsApp, but they lack the intimacy of something painstakingly written by hand.
I remember smartphones entering our lives in the early 2000s. Their arrival changed everything. I first bought one for my daughter when she was in university—and it was she who taught me how to use mine.
Smartphones have certainly made life more convenient, but they’ve also made us less self-reliant. Thanks to Google Maps, we no longer get lost—but there was a time we could navigate an entire city by memory. Technology has changed even our relationship with the cities we live in.
Banking, too, has been transformed. I no longer have a personal relationship with my banker! Still, I understand that technology has made their jobs easier. Gone are the days of manually filling ledger books, a tiring task by any standard. As customers, we’ve benefited too—ATMs have replaced long queues at the teller’s window.
As much as I miss aspects of the old world, I know it’s fruitless to cling to the past. The internet has permanently changed our lives, and I don’t expect to receive handwritten letters anytime soon! But I believe it’s important for us to walk in step with these changes—and make the most of them.

(As narrated to Support Elders by our member)