In the lush, green expanse of a rubber plantation, a story not of latex and labor, but of resilience and profound change began with the quiet rhythm of a tapping knife in the pre-dawn darkness. The rhythm belonged to a fifteen-year-old girl named Sunitha. In a world that expected her to follow a predetermined path of hardship, she chose to forge her own. This is the tale of how she, guided by empathy and the memory of her family's struggle, grew from a silent observer of inequality into a powerful architect of transformation, weaving a new future for her community, one courageous step at a time.

Her journey started when an accident rendered her mother, a domestic daily wage worker, unable to work. Sunitha stepped into her shoes. On her first day, a grumpy neighbor, Krishnan, called out, "What are you doing, girl? This is not a child's game. Your mother's hands are old for this work, but yours are too new." But a kind older woman, Leela, offered a soft word of encouragement that gave her strength.

“Don't listen to him, Sunitha,” Leela said softly. “The trees know new hands are nervous. Just breathe. You have your mother’s courage.”

It began not with a grand vision, but with the simple, heavy weight of responsibility. In the quiet of her home, Sunitha understood that her family’s survival lay not in fate, but in her hands. She learned that a burden, when carried with courage, could become a foundation for strength, a silent promise to herself that she would never let her loved ones fall.

These early lessons instilled in her a profound understanding of labor and dignity. Her father’s unemployment and her mother’s relentless perseverance left indelible lessons that would become guiding principles. These experiences emphasized that every challenge presented an opportunity to create change. Even after marriage, she adopted a philosophy that would define her life: “A woman with her own income always has value.”

Sunitha S, was born in an upper caste Nair family. Only that she was born in poverty. Her family was drained out and impoverished with the treatment of her father’s Cancer disease. They were homeless but determined as her mother took to daily labour. Early in her life she saw that bias against the poor surpassed caste and religion. She believes “poor world over are one class, the privileged are the rich and people who control the powers. The poor must unite to seek their rights as citizens and organise themselves to face the realities.”

The sound of her voice in the Panchayat office was a new sound in Panavoor. It was not the whisper of a nervous girl, but the clear, ringing tone of a leader finding her purpose. She discovered that a single voice, armed with conviction, could cut through bureaucracy and indifference, proving that the tools of change are not always found in power, but often in the simple act of speaking truth.

Sunitha’s formal entry into public service was not through a formal election, but through a defiant roar. When she saw the unused local library building sitting idle while children had nowhere to go, she organized a persistent protest to start an Anganwadi for children.

“Sir,” Sunitha said, her voice firm. “Our homes are where the problems are. Our children are our future. An Anganwadi in this building is a solution, a simple step for a healthy childhood for our kids. We are not asking for a favor; we are demanding what is right.”

Sunitha’s persistence paid off. The government conceded, and she was tapped to work as a contractual staff member for the Anganwadi since there was no provision for staff recruitment. She took up the challenge and did all her work with a smile. From buying vegetables for cooking midday meals for kids from a faraway town to teaching the kids and brooming and cleaning the Anganwadi, it was all her responsibility.

Her life had taught her that a community was not just a collection of houses, but a network of shared struggles and small victories. Sunitha saw the women of her village as sisters in spirit, their collective strength a river carving a path through stone. Their trust was the real currency, their shared dreams the true blueprint for the future she was determined to build.

Sunitha’s reputation as a tireless advocate grew. Soon, she was offered a position as an ADS Secretary in the Kudumbashree program. But Sunitha, ever practical, knew she couldn't wait for bureaucracy. She began a grassroots self-help group. When a woman from her group, Vasanthi, expressed doubts, Sunitha empowered her. “You are teaching each other, lifting each other up,” Sunitha said to her group. "You are the system, you are part of the Local Government. You are the Kudumbashree, the grace of the family and society.”

The success of her grassroots efforts did not go unnoticed. The people of her Panchayat ward saw in her a leader who fought not for personal gain, but for the collective good. They rallied behind her, and she grew in grassroots leadership, and in 2020 she was elected to the District Panchayat and entrusted to head the Standing Committee on Development.

Even as a District Panchayat member, she continues to be a rubber tapper. Sunitha says to her peers in her office that continuing this work is important because political work is not meant to earn a living for the family. And most importantly, continuing her work as a rubber tapper allows her to be grounded and connected to hundreds of landless laborers in her region.

She married another rubber tapper in her village and had two children. Both children are bright students and hold a lot of hope for the future. She has purchased a scooter for herself to travel everyday from her village to Thiruvanthapuram, a 35 km distance, to attend her office in the District Panchayat. A typical day for Sunitha begins at three in the morning. After tapping her assigned rubber trees, she prepares food for the family and sees off children to school. She returns home by late evening and spends the next few hours meeting women in her constituency and visiting homes.

Even as she climbed the ladder of political power, she never let go of the first rung. The scent of rubber in the morning air remained her anchor. She understood that her success was not a rejection of her past, but a testament to it. The dignity of her labor—the rhythm, the discipline, the perseverance—was the invisible force that powered her vision for every woman she met.

Her leadership was especially significant during the COVID-19 pandemic. As CDS Chairperson, she spearheaded the Janakeeya Hotel initiative, a community kitchen that provided affordable meals. She grew to become a prominent face of the Kudumbashree movement in Kerala, an initiative of the Panchayati Raj ministry of Kerala and a prominent step of the Local Self Government Department of this seaside South Indian state.

“We will not let our community go hungry,” she told a group of women volunteers, her voice firm. “Every meal we prepare is not just food; it is a promise that we will take care of each other.”

Sunitha's work as a Kudumbashree trainer took her far beyond her village. Her international experience in South Africa offered a stark perspective. She observed a society where women were denied access to basic health, education, and safety. This exposure strengthened her resolve to advocate for women’s rights.

In her first training session in South Africa, she faced a room of silent, skeptical women. One older woman, her face still partially covered, slowly removed her veil. "Your story is our story," the woman said. "We have different problems, but the same pain." After her international assignment, Sunitha has also been sent to Rajasthan, Chhattisgarh, and several other States of India to train women leaders for community work. A school passout who did not have the fortune to go to a college, Sunitha now plans to learn Hindi and English to ensure she can communicate with a multitude of women in the country.

Her story, she knew, was not an endpoint but a continuous journey. It extended beyond the borders of her village, her state, and her country. In the faces of women around the world, she saw echoes of her mother, her neighbors, and herself. The work of empowerment was never truly done, and for Sunitha, the pursuit of justice was a horizon that, with every step, grew ever more vast.

Sunitha’s experience working with women in Rajasthan was an eye-opener. The practice of the Purdah system and women playing second fiddle to men in Panchayat was a point of concern for her.

She guided the women there to not just fill out a loan application, demystifying the process line by line. She guided them to be self-dependent and take up leadership in their communities. “For a long time, the system has ignored us," she told them. "But it is not a mountain that cannot be moved. When a group of women, with a plan, stands together, it is much harder to look away.” Sunitha’s life is a testament to the power of human resilience, the importance of education, and the transformative potential of women-led initiatives. She continues to mentor women and advocate for social justice. Sunith embodies a universal truth that leadership emerges not from privilege but from persistence, insight, and a deep connection to the people one serves.

Sunitha in her office in Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala District Panchayat office talking to Anu Jain, the writer. Photo courtesy of  the author.

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