The dichotomy of love and disdain living side- by-side is what surprises me. I am tired of the rules, she says.
She comes from a very poor tribal family of Jharkand, the state carved out of Bihar for better ruling and control by the centre. Who are we to draw these lines of invisible borders with in our own country? I mean the babu sitting in the colonial office in north block would not even have the faintest notion of the people he was demarcating. These lost tribes of Jharkand who have been given a form of semblance by the missionaries and are herded in trains to serve us fat cow Punjabis living in our affluent opulent homes in the North. These adivasis are taught to be servile , sucked into the mire of civilization and are cloned into working as maids, domestic helps,ammaji’s who are seen but not heard , effective, efficient giving stiff competition to the robots of Japan! My dear nikki,urf Basanti who travelled from the jungles of Jharkhand to the urban jungle that is Delhi . She wetted her first few years over there working, learning the nuances of cosmopolitan life and was de-flowered from the innocent she was to a shrewd all observing but never voicing woman she is today. By chance, we became her next employers through the agency which is the answer to all women’s problems. A maid guaranteed to work for one with no holidays for a guaranteed eleven months. I mean it was like manna from heaven. Ideally speaking, she was at my beck and call no chutti, no bahana to go anywhere. I was in seventh heaven, someone to listen and cater to all my whims and do all the work...Wow!!The non-stop cleaning started, we kicked in huge dust balls which Im sure never existed but came into the fore mysteriously. She was a stickler for cleanliness, with an Obsessive cleanliness disorder which had gone undiagnosed in the medical history.
This four foot nothing woman , quiet as a mouse who didn’t understand our loud, boisterous Punjabi ways assimilated into the routine as if she was here since time immemorial. I wonder, does she find our ways alien. We who would let her do everything , all the work with the rest of the retinue of staff , but due to some ingrained archaic laws which exist in this Land of Pure and the cradle of the youngest so called forward religion..We would differentiate. I mean, she has her own plates, her own glass to drink the de riguer chai( staple of the work-force) but ever suspicious of her drinking or whisking milk away. She makes our tea, coffee (endless cups) but...Keep an eye out she must be drinking it on the sly..Warned the elders. Do you realize when we talk in our fine, polite society tones it’s an octave lower but when speaking to the servants we raise it three octaves higher, thinking that they have become suddenly deaf!!
I would like to not herald a war of the classes or ask anyone to take up cudgels but please take stock of the helpers working in your homes, slaving away day and night..When was the last time you gave them something new, bought out of free will and not given because you didn’t want it? When did you give her a smile or asked her how she is? Do you know abt her real name? Why did she come so far away to this land to work? My dera basanti now christened Basant kaur has an abusive husband with whom she has not lived for years, two children who need to walk 3 kms to reach their school in a village I cant even pronounce.try giving her what she wants most of all self –respect , self-esteem and if you thin im a loony record how you speak to your helpers and replay your voice..yu’ll know what im talking about…
God made us equal, I don’t think he puts an invisible rubber stamp saying servant , master…and even if by fate we do become like this; please show compassion.