The Maidservant

Vishakha is the maidservant working in our house. She is in her early forties. She is of short height and plump. She is dark skinned but her face shows that she is a typical Bengali beauty; full of earthy charm and a certain degree of sensuality. She has migrated to Delhi from the north-eastern part of West Bengal; like many of the folks from her village. Most of the ladies from her group work as maidservant in my colony. The men usually sit idle at their homes waiting for the evening to sip the cheap country liquor. Vishakha has been working in my household for the last three years. She is an expert at her job and finishes her task very quickly. In spite of her hurry, the kitchen and utensils become neat and clean; which speaks about her expertise. Barring some stray occasions, she comes for work on a regular basis; which is quite uncommon for the maidservants. I have heard many ladies complaining about erratic schedules of their maidservants.

Most of the houses in this colony are four floors high. So, Vishakha and other maidservants must be climbing at least a thousand steps per day while going for work in different flats. Her typical day begins at 5 AM in the morning. I have often seen her returning from her work after ten in the night. This speaks about her tight schedule. In spite of all the drudgery, you will never find Vishakha without a smile. Come the Durga Puja celebrations and you can easily spot Vishakha in colorful handloom sari worn in typical Bengali style.

One day when Vishakha came she was not in her usually chirpy mood. It was somewhat strange because I have never seen her with a sad face. I thought she must be feeling sick so did not pay much attention to her. She went inside the kitchen and started talking to my wife. After a long discussion between them, she came to me and asked, “Bhaiya, can you do me a favor?”

On getting my assent, she said, “I have been working at a house in which a young couple lives. Since his wife also goes for work, I cook food for them. Yesterday morning, he found that his wallet was missing. He started blaming me and started calling me all sorts of names. His wife then dialed 100 and called the police. The police also misbehaved with me and threatened me with dire consequences…..”

I was giving her a patient hearing. She further continued, “I told the police that I have been living in this colony for the last eight years. I also told that I have worked at many households and nobody could raise a finger at me till date. Then do you know what happened?”

I said, “No, tell me what happened.”

She said, “The police said that if just five people would speak in favor of me, they would let me go. I have talked to many others. Can you come with me to speak in my favor? If you trust me then please come with me, otherwise there is no point.”

Whenever something is stolen or is missing, we easily blame the weakest person around. Maidservants, gatekeepers, rag-pickers, etc. become our easy targets. Vishakha was like a sitting duck. She is working in a lowly paying job, and she is a woman. This makes her the member of the most vulnerable group in the society. Having been acquainted to her for a long period I can vouch for her honesty. But I think, while she was talking there was some forceful assertion in her eyes. Her direct gaze was speaking about her honesty and forthrightness. It must have forced even the thick-skinned policemen to give a second thought to her case.

I and my wife accompanied her to the flat of that young couple at stipulated time. I was overawed when I saw at least twenty people were already there. All of them had gone there to speak in support of Vishakha. It was enough for the police to give her a clean chit. The lady constable also gave a stern warning to that couple to take proper care of their belongings.