ZUBAIDA
Once again I was between maids and had spread the word around that I needed someone for both the house hold work and cooking. Since my daughter was away at the boarding school and there was just myself to be fed I decided that I could cook for myself.
I over estimated my capabilities. Very soon I was quiet sick of my “survival cooking”. I was diabetic and found that I was not making adequately nutritious food. My excuse was, I did not have adequate time but to be honest I guess the fact is cooking has never been one of my main priorities! Being quite mediocre in that department whenever the occasion demanded something exotic or really yummy, I always opted to outsource.
So the search for a good cook was on, the watchman, the driver, the dhobi, and the neighborhood maids had all been informed. The dhobi’s wife comes one evening saying “amma there is a lady who has not worked anywhere before ,she comes from a good family but has been married into a family that is not so well off , she has two kids and is not able to make ends meet so wants to work. However there is one issue, she is a Muslim “That is Okay with me, bring her over let me meet her and then decide “I said. She came late evening with the dhobi woman. A well dressed, pretty women, rather a girl, must have got married very young. She was so well behaved and simple in her demeanor I really jumped at the chance.
Next day was the orientation program. Not having worked anywhere else as a domestic help she needed guidance on what needed to be done. I took a day off to explain where what was kept and induct her into the cleaning process.
Then onwards she took over. She would be at my place at the crack of dawn, before her neighbors woke up, she did not want them to know she worked as a maid. From 5am in the morning to 8 o’clock she would finish cooking and cleaning. Before she left she would take such pains to see there were no tell tale signs of her having come to work , she would comb her hair , retie her sari , take her purse and carry bag so that when she returned home it would appear she had just stepped out to pick up some provisions for her house. Her parents lived in the same neighborhood and she did not want them to know she had to do household work to support
her family. This went on very well, she cooked some of the yummiest food and I had to be cautious to see that I did not put on weight.
One night after I had returned from office, I was surprised to see her at my place with her two little sons. They must have been 9 and 6 years of age, the elder one’s name was Amir Khan and the younger was Sharukh Khan! Really handsome boys, so I told them that looks like you plan to be like your namesakes in Bollywood! They were very thrilled with that. Obviously a star struck family. Zubaida said she had come because she need a loan badly as she had to pay fees for the boys next day which her husband was to arrange from his workplace, which he was not able to . She was almost in tears as she said the school had given an ultimatum and she did not want the kids schooling to be stopped.
Though I have had bad experiences of loans to maids, which often disappeared along with the maid, it looked like a genuine case so I gave her the amount. She promised that she would pay it back in installments from her salary. She continued to work for me for some time and every month she would pay back the loan in bits and pieces.
During this period I met with a personal tragedy .One morning at office I had a call from my Dad to say that my Mom was hospitalized and I should come home. I knew Mom was having a fever for a week and she had told me it was a viral fever so I was surprised she was hospitalized. Dad was not able to tell me more, except that it was apparently not a viral as she continued to have low grade fever and typhoid, malaria etc had been ruled out, so doctors were keeping her under observation and for further tests.
I immediately organized a ticket to Trichur, closed up the house, told the neighbors to inform Zubaida that I would be away and that when I return I would inform the Dhobi and she need not come until then.
By the time I reached Trichur the next morning there was no further progress in the diagnosis but I knew from dad’s face that it was worrying him no end. I had a bath and went to the hospital; mom looked fine to me except for the fact that she had slight fever. I thought Dad was worrying unnecessarily. My brother was with my mom at the hospital. Since I and my dad were there with mom he said he was going to meet her doctor .As he was leaving he said “Why don’t you come with me”. I accompanied him to the first floor of the hospital as soon as we reached the landing of the first floor he asked me to sit down, saying I need to talk to you. I immediately sensed there was something amiss. “Usha, Mom has Leukemia “He said, his voice quivering. I sat with a thud. I could not believe it.” Mom does not look ill, are you sure?” I asked, hoping against hope there was some error somewhere. He said” No, I have seen her reports and it is AML, she has max 90 days left.”
Though my brother was a doctor I hoped he was wrong and said I would like to meet the doctor .He said we need to take mom for the biopsy but the blood reports were quite conclusive. We went to the doctor who was one of our relatives he took one look at my face and turned to my brother who told him “ I have told her” I asked the doctor “ Uncle is there a chance that the biopsy may prove the blood report wrong” He said “ No Usha , it is confirmed.” He then called my brother to examine the blood stained slides. They discussed the medical details, I just sat numb. I only asked should we tell dad. The doctor and my brother both agreed that dad and mom both could be told that Mom had to go for a biopsy, as that would mentally prepare them ,for the worst. Well to cut painful long story short, it was confirmed Mom had only max 90 days left. I decided to take 3 months off from office and be with Mom for her last days.
So it was after Mom passed away on the 87th day and after the rituals that I came back to Chennai, in the mean time I called one of the neighbours and asked him to inform the Dhobi woman.
The day after I got back to Chennai I sent for the dhobi woman , she came and told me “Amma Zubaida has gone” I thought she has taken up another assignment as I was away for so long so I said “ask her if she will come back if I pay her for the 3 months I was away” She responded with tears in her eyes “ Amma , almost two or three weeks after you left Zubaida was working at her home making ‘upma’ for her sons when the stove burst and her sari caught fire . She struggled for life for two days in the hospital.”
As it is my nerves were strained watching Mom die and I come back and here this! I just sat down and howled my heart out. What the dhobi woman said after that made me cry even more. She said when she gained conscious in between the two things she said was, her two sons were hungry and should be fed and if something happens to her not to ask for her salary for
the days she worked because she had taken a loan from me and she owed me money.”
I was so touched, until then I had only experienced maids who don’t return the loans they take. Here was a dying woman who must have been in so much pain, talking about the money she owed me. My faith in people honesty which I questioned sometimes was restored. I also thanked providence for having made me give her the loan, though at that time I had a doubt that this may be yet another maid disappearing along with the loan.
Every time someone breaks my trust and to stop myself from trusting others I remind myself that there are Zubaidas’ of this world who are honest and may have a genuine need for the loan. Every time a maid asks me for a loan its Zubaida’s lovely face that before my eyes and I don’t have the heart to refuse despite the innumerable times I have been duped.
Once again I was between maids and had spread the word around that I needed someone for both the house hold work and cooking. Since my daughter was away at the boarding school and there was just myself to be fed I decided that I could cook for myself.
I over estimated my capabilities. Very soon I was quiet sick of my “survival cooking”. I was diabetic and found that I was not making adequately nutritious food. My excuse was, I did not have adequate time but to be honest I guess the fact is cooking has never been one of my main priorities! Being quite mediocre in that department whenever the occasion demanded something exotic or really yummy, I always opted to outsource.
So the search for a good cook was on, the watchman, the driver, the dhobi, and the neighborhood maids had all been informed. The dhobi’s wife comes one evening saying “amma there is a lady who has not worked anywhere before ,she comes from a good family but has been married into a family that is not so well off , she has two kids and is not able to make ends meet so wants to work. However there is one issue, she is a Muslim “That is Okay with me, bring her over let me meet her and then decide “I said. She came late evening with the dhobi woman. A well dressed, pretty women, rather a girl, must have got married very young. She was so well behaved and simple in her demeanor I really jumped at the chance.
Next day was the orientation program. Not having worked anywhere else as a domestic help she needed guidance on what needed to be done. I took a day off to explain where what was kept and induct her into the cleaning process.
Then onwards she took over. She would be at my place at the crack of dawn, before her neighbors woke up, she did not want them to know she worked as a maid. From 5am in the morning to 8 o’clock she would finish cooking and cleaning. Before she left she would take such pains to see there were no tell tale signs of her having come to work , she would comb her hair , retie her sari , take her purse and carry bag so that when she returned home it would appear she had just stepped out to pick up some provisions for her house. Her parents lived in the same neighborhood and she did not want them to know she had to do household work to support
her family. This went on very well, she cooked some of the yummiest food and I had to be cautious to see that I did not put on weight.
One night after I had returned from office, I was surprised to see her at my place with her two little sons. They must have been 9 and 6 years of age, the elder one’s name was Amir Khan and the younger was Sharukh Khan! Really handsome boys, so I told them that looks like you plan to be like your namesakes in Bollywood! They were very thrilled with that. Obviously a star struck family. Zubaida said she had come because she need a loan badly as she had to pay fees for the boys next day which her husband was to arrange from his workplace, which he was not able to . She was almost in tears as she said the school had given an ultimatum and she did not want the kids schooling to be stopped.
Though I have had bad experiences of loans to maids, which often disappeared along with the maid, it looked like a genuine case so I gave her the amount. She promised that she would pay it back in installments from her salary. She continued to work for me for some time and every month she would pay back the loan in bits and pieces.
During this period I met with a personal tragedy .One morning at office I had a call from my Dad to say that my Mom was hospitalized and I should come home. I knew Mom was having a fever for a week and she had told me it was a viral fever so I was surprised she was hospitalized. Dad was not able to tell me more, except that it was apparently not a viral as she continued to have low grade fever and typhoid, malaria etc had been ruled out, so doctors were keeping her under observation and for further tests.
I immediately organized a ticket to Trichur, closed up the house, told the neighbors to inform Zubaida that I would be away and that when I return I would inform the Dhobi and she need not come until then.
By the time I reached Trichur the next morning there was no further progress in the diagnosis but I knew from dad’s face that it was worrying him no end. I had a bath and went to the hospital; mom looked fine to me except for the fact that she had slight fever. I thought Dad was worrying unnecessarily. My brother was with my mom at the hospital. Since I and my dad were there with mom he said he was going to meet her doctor .As he was leaving he said “Why don’t you come with me”. I accompanied him to the first floor of the hospital as soon as we reached the landing of the first floor he asked me to sit down, saying I need to talk to you. I immediately sensed there was something amiss. “Usha, Mom has Leukemia “He said, his voice quivering. I sat with a thud. I could not believe it.” Mom does not look ill, are you sure?” I asked, hoping against hope there was some error somewhere. He said” No, I have seen her reports and it is AML, she has max 90 days left.”
Though my brother was a doctor I hoped he was wrong and said I would like to meet the doctor .He said we need to take mom for the biopsy but the blood reports were quite conclusive. We went to the doctor who was one of our relatives he took one look at my face and turned to my brother who told him “ I have told her” I asked the doctor “ Uncle is there a chance that the biopsy may prove the blood report wrong” He said “ No Usha , it is confirmed.” He then called my brother to examine the blood stained slides. They discussed the medical details, I just sat numb. I only asked should we tell dad. The doctor and my brother both agreed that dad and mom both could be told that Mom had to go for a biopsy, as that would mentally prepare them ,for the worst. Well to cut painful long story short, it was confirmed Mom had only max 90 days left. I decided to take 3 months off from office and be with Mom for her last days.
So it was after Mom passed away on the 87th day and after the rituals that I came back to Chennai, in the mean time I called one of the neighbours and asked him to inform the Dhobi woman.
The day after I got back to Chennai I sent for the dhobi woman , she came and told me “Amma Zubaida has gone” I thought she has taken up another assignment as I was away for so long so I said “ask her if she will come back if I pay her for the 3 months I was away” She responded with tears in her eyes “ Amma , almost two or three weeks after you left Zubaida was working at her home making ‘upma’ for her sons when the stove burst and her sari caught fire . She struggled for life for two days in the hospital.”
As it is my nerves were strained watching Mom die and I come back and here this! I just sat down and howled my heart out. What the dhobi woman said after that made me cry even more. She said when she gained conscious in between the two things she said was, her two sons were hungry and should be fed and if something happens to her not to ask for her salary for
the days she worked because she had taken a loan from me and she owed me money.”
I was so touched, until then I had only experienced maids who don’t return the loans they take. Here was a dying woman who must have been in so much pain, talking about the money she owed me. My faith in people honesty which I questioned sometimes was restored. I also thanked providence for having made me give her the loan, though at that time I had a doubt that this may be yet another maid disappearing along with the loan.
Every time someone breaks my trust and to stop myself from trusting others I remind myself that there are Zubaidas’ of this world who are honest and may have a genuine need for the loan. Every time a maid asks me for a loan its Zubaida’s lovely face that before my eyes and I don’t have the heart to refuse despite the innumerable times I have been duped.
No comments:
Post a Comment