by Sudha Nair
Diwali was only a few days away. Shantamma had loads of cleaning to finish in the houses that she worked at. The lamps had to be cleaned; the contents of the kitchen cupboards had to be emptied and re-stacked; the cutlery, china and curtains had to look spotlessly clean. Shantamma was scrubbing the living room floor when Charu called out to her from the kitchen, hissing her name as if it was an urgent secret.
“Why are you whispering, Charu Bhabhi?” Shantamma said, walking into the kitchen, pushing the betel she was chewing on to one side of her mouth.
Charu quickly put her fingers on her lips to shush her and pointed to Rekha’s apartment. “Who’s that man in her house?” she asked, whispering again.
Shantamma leaned over the window that Charu was peering out of. “Rekha bhabhi’s?” She peered into the opposite house. A man was seated on Rekha’s sofa.
Someone she hadn’t seen before. Shantamma wondered why there were so many men coming to teach Rekha – a single woman – music, yoga and what-not. No wonder Charu was curious about Rekha’s guests.
“God knows,” Shantamma said, resuming her betel chewing as she waddled away to continue with her scrubbing.
“Arre, come back here,” Charu called her.
Shantamma went back in, one hand supporting her aching back. Charu had finished cutting out barfis on the tray. She laid them neatly on a plate, covered the plate with a doily and handed the plate to Shantamma. “Take these sweets and go to Rekha’s house. Tell her I’ve sent it. Go now.”
Shantamma scrunched up her face at Charu. “Now? Can’t I take it afterwards?”
Charu squinted at Shantamma until she took the plate that was being offered.
“Ok Ok,” she said, wary of drawing Charu’s ire. What did Charu want her to do?
“And while you’re there, find out who that man is,” Charu called out as Shantamma hitched her sari to her waist and walked out Charu’s door towards Rekha’s house. She went down three floors, taking one slow step at a time, walked over to the adjacent three-story apartment, clambered up three floors to Rekha’s house and rang her bell.
Rekha opened the door. “You? Haven’t I told you to come at two?” she said, frowning at Shantamma.
“No, Bhabhi, I came to give you this,” she said, producing the decorative plate. “Charu Bhabhi sent you some Diwali sweets. If you like to order for your friends, she’ll make them for you. She makes other sweets too.”
As Rekha lifted the doily and eyed its contents, Shantamma peered in through the half-open door and said, “Do you have a guest, Rekha Bhabhi?”
“Mind your own business,” Rekha said. “I’ll call her if I need anything. You come back at two,” and she slammed the door before Shantamma could get another word in.
Shantamma trudged back to Charu’s house, shaking her head, wondering if she had irked Rekha. “Ah,” she sighed, shaking her head again. Her bread and butter depended on these ladies. She had to avoid Rekha or Charu Bhabhi’s reprove at all costs. Happy employers meant a hefty Diwali bonus, which meant a couple of important things she desperately needed this year: a patch for her broken roof and a blanket to keep out the cold this winter.
“Did you see who it was?” Charu asked her when she returned, huffing and puffing.
Shantamma had been thinking on the way up the stairs. “Bhabhi,” she said. “You were right about these Rekha-types. He was a very handsome man, I swear.”
Charu couldn’t contain her excitement. She pulled Shantamma into the kitchen and offered her a cup of freshly brewed tea. Shantamma took her seat in a corner, squatting on the floor. She slowly poured the tea into the saucer, and slurped it up with a whistling sound. “Ah,” she said, satisfied with her first cup of tea of the day.
Charu offered her a barfi with it. Shantamma took a bite. Delicious. Charu fidgeted, shuffling from foot to foot, while Shantamma wolfed down the sweet and finished her tea. “Ah,” Shantamma sighed when she was done. “That was so delicious, Charu Bhabhi.”
“I’ll give you some sweets to take home. Tell me what happened at Rekha’s house. What did you see?”
“Bhabhi, this tall he was,” she said, raising her hand to point to the ceiling. “And this wide,” she said, spreading her hands wide. “And very handsome.”
Charu smiled. She leaned forward in her chair. “Really? Did you find out anything else?”
Shantamma looked up and paused to think. Then she began again. “Bhabhi, I’ve seen him before.”
A soft chuckle escaped Charu’s mouth. Shantamma began to twiddle her sari’s pallu, as she often did when she was about to begin her story. How she loved to tell a good story!
“Don’t worry, Shantamma. Just tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”
“He comes every day, Bhabhi.”
“Hmm?…But I haven’t seen him before.”
“Rekha Bhabhi makes lunch for him, sometimes dinner also. He comes often these days, plays the guitar, and stays in Rekha Bhabhi’s room all day long.”
“Who could it be?” Charu’s eyes glistened with delight.
“I’ll find out, Bhabhi.” Shantamma gulped. “Soon.”
Shantamma was let off to finish the rest of her work, bringing her story telling to an abrupt end. But then, she was relieved. She had so much work to finish.
Diwali day dawned bright and early. Shantamma woke up, took a bath, wore last Diwali’s sari, which was not new but still beautiful and barely used, and pinned a few strands of jasmine flowers to her hair. She arrived, fresh and dewy-eyed to Charu’s house. It was her day off from work, the day she visited her employers’ houses only for her customary Diwali baksheesh. She rang Charu’s bell and waited, admiring the still-wet rangoli outside the door.
Charu appeared in a resplendent silk sari, adorned with gold necklace and bangles. She gave Shantamma a new sari, and two thousand rupees as baksheesh. Shantamma bowed graciously and smiled, baring all her teeth. She then walked over to Rekha’s house and rang the bell. Rekha had just woken up, and seemed irritated to be disturbed at such an early hour.
“You? Now?” she said.
“Yes, Bhabhi. Today is Diwali. Won’t you give me baksheesh?” She smiled eagerly.
A half-asleep man with ruffled hair walked towards the door and said to Rekha, “It’s Diwali after all. Give her some money, darling, and get back to bed.”
Rekha went in, returned with her purse, and then she hesitated. “You’ve been working for me for only two months. How much did the others give you for Diwali?”
“Charu Bhabhi gave me two thousand rupees and a sari. You can give me whatever you wish,” Shantamma said, her smile widening.
Rekha handed her three thousand rupees. Shantamma’s jaw fell open when she saw the amount.
“This is for you to shut up about who you saw at my house today. If I hear you’ve been spreading rumours, I’ll never have you in my house again,” Rekha said.
“No no, Bhabhi,” Shantamma pleaded. “You’re like my daughter only. You don’t worry about anything.” She pocketed the money and left, thanking her lucky stars that her wishes would come true this Diwali.
A few days later, Charu called Shantamma to the kitchen window again. “See, Shantamma, it’s that same fellow we saw the other day. Can you go—?”
Shantamma interrupted her. “Bhabhi, when I went to Rekha Bhabhi’s house the other day, I saw that man again. He called her ‘didi.’”
Charu’s face fell. “Brother? Pooh! You may have heard wrong. I’m keeping my eye on that house. You’re useless in these matters, Shantamma.”
Shantamma resumed her work, chewing on betel as she swept the floor. She didn’t have much to worry about until next year.
Pic : Andrew Middleton
