Fieldnotes from Mynas: Walking with Aliya

I met Aliya on a Tuesday afternoon at Myna Mahila Foundation’s Govandi office, in Natwar Parekh Compound. She had a list of places to get to that day, and our conversation began the way fieldwork conversations often do- quickly, practically, with an eye on the clock.

Aliya is 19. She is a community mobiliser with Myna Mahila Foundation and has been working with the organisation for a little over a year. She lives in Zakir Hussain Nagar, close to where much of her fieldwork takes place.

When she dons her Myna ID before heading into the field, her body language shifts almost imperceptibly. She stands a little straighter. Her pace becomes purposeful. She moves like someone carrying responsibility—not just of tasks, but of information, trust, and representation.

As we walk, people greet her by name. Some ask when the next session would be organised. Others ask about pad distribution, clinic visits, or medicines. She listens intently, responds with care, and keeps moving, balancing urgency with attention.

During our meetings with the community members, Aliya moves almost seamlessly between groups of young girls and older women, children trailing behind. Conversations overlap and spill into one another. Amidst inside jokes and job queries when medical questions come up, she takes time to explain things. Like understanding matters more than finishing the day.

At one point, two older women stop her to talk about where the next clinic could be set up. Where, not if. I sense the quiet community ownership that Aliya, and the mobilisers before her, have cultivated slowly over time.

As we walked back, I commented on how physically demanding the work must be. Aliya spoke matter-of-factly about long field visits, cancelled sessions, carrying heavy supplies, and clinic days that stretch longer than planned. There was no complaint in the telling, just an accounting of what the work requires- pure dedication and resolve.

What stood out to me wasn’t just her people skills, but the quality of her presence. There was nothing rehearsed about it.

By the time we paused near the edge of Gautam Nagar, the pace of the day hadn’t really slowed. Even when the field seemed to rest—cats asleep in the afternoon shade—Aliya was already thinking about where she needed to go next.

These fieldnotes are from walking with Aliya for a day, but they point to something larger: the everyday, often invisible labour of young women who move through their own communities carrying knowledge, care, and responsibility—usually without pause, and often without recognition.

We’re beginning to archive that labour.

One walk, one story, one fieldnote at a time.