Mamta's Smartphone: A Window to Possibilities
Mamata’s Smartphone: A Window to Possibilities
By Isha Singh
Mamata Devi, 32, lives in a cramped but vibrant urban village nestled within the expanding outskirts of Gurugram, Haryana. Originally from a rural district in Bihar, Mamata migrated with her husband in search of better opportunities. Though her surroundings are a mix of concrete blocks and broken roads, Mamata’s most powerful asset fits neatly in the palm of her hand — her smartphone.
“Good morning, parents of 10B. Today’s class test is on forests and wildlife, these voice notes will help your child prepare”
Mamata’s day starts early. She has to drop her 15 year old son, Aayush, to school. He has just started 10th grade and the upcoming board exams are a top priority for the family and his teachers. At 8 AM sharp, her phone starts buzzing with messages on Aayush’s class whatsapp group “Class 10 B”. The group is filled with morning messages, school notices and tips for upcoming tests - from his class teacher - Payal Ma’am. For Mamata, who never finished school herself, the group is more than a source of updates — it’s a window into her child’s world. Early in the morning, she listens to Payal Ma’am’s voice notes multiple times, helping Aayush learn about forest and wildlife resources for his Geography class test, in a few hours.
“Madam, potatoes are for 25 Rs per KG, you can use this scanner”
On her way back from school, Mamata is thinking about what to cook for dinner. She’s craving jeera aaloo with kadhi chawal — her husband’s favourite. But as she walks past the sabziwala, she suddenly remembers there are no potatoes at home — and worse, she forgot her wallet in the morning rush to get Aayush ready for school. For a moment, she panics. Then she remembers her phone. With a smile, she picks out two kilos of fresh aaloo, and Suresh the sabziwala hands her the UPI scanner, telling her the rate of potatoes she can transfer.
“Let’s discuss a new order on Whatsapp Call tomorrow.”
Later in the afternoon, as Mamata finishes stitching the final border on a blouse, she feels that familiar spark — the joy of creating something with her own hands. It’s her favourite part of the day, when the house is quiet and her mind is fully her own. Inspired, she picks up her phone and opens WhatsApp. She presses the mic icon and records a voice note to the community leader of her self-help group. In a clear, confident tone, she asks if there’s any more stitching work available — maybe a bulk order for the upcoming festival. “Main aur kaam lena chahti hoon, didi,” she says, her voice steady. “Mujhe naye design try karne ka mann hai.” Within minutes, the reply pings back: “Haan Mamata, kal ek naya order discuss karte hain, WhatsApp Call pe.”
The characters joke and bicker.
With the last blouse folded neatly and the lunch dishes done, Mamata finally lets herself sink onto the floor cushion by the window — and opens her phone to watch her favourite show for a quick 30 minutes on her phone. As the characters joke and biker, in a small town setting not unlike her own, Mamata bursts into laughter, the kind that shakes off the weight of deadlines and school tiffins. For a brief moment, she’s not a mother, a tailor, or a homemaker — just Mamata, enjoying her own time. She watches, until she presses pause, to rush to pick up Aayush from school.
Pass me the phone, I’m sure I can beat your mathematics high score.
Back home after picking up Aayush, Mamata notices he’s unusually quiet. When she asks him to start his homework, he shrugs and mutters that he doesn’t feel like studying. At 5 PM, he’s started pushing back more — distracted by his friends, cricket, and the lure of YouTube itself. Mamata feels frustrated but then remembers their, recently discovered App that gamifies mathematics. She opens the App and tells Aayush about her latest score, tempted to reach the leaderboard himself, Aayush says, “pass me the phone I’m sure I can beat your mathematics high score.”
Her mother’s familiar face appears on video call, as she tells her the good news.
As night falls, Mamta puts her phone to charge. Just as she’s about to sleep, she receives an SMS from her bank. She quickly opens her banking app to confirm the transfer, then switches to her Video Calling App and dials her mother, to share the good news. The screen flickers, and her mother’s familiar face appears, “Maa, paise aa gaye,” Mamata says, her eyes shining. “Do aur orders bhi mile hain.” On video, she tells her mom about how it was the highest earnings she’s made till date, as if she’s sitting right there in her childhood home, sharing her joy with her mother. They talk, they laugh, and in that moment — between two women, two places, and one screen — the distance disappears.
And with that, the day ends.
Mamata’s day is not extraordinary by the world’s standards — but within the narrow lanes of her urban village, it is nothing short of remarkable. With a recently bought smartphone as her companion, she moves between roles — worker, mother, home-maker, daughter — seamlessly and with quiet determination. Her device is her workplace, her sons, classroom, her bank and a window to her childhood home. Her story is a reminder that when you place the right tools in the hands of women, you — you connect them to possibility.