Hansi was an important part of my mother’s daily activities. She was the maid of the house after all. That winter I was visiting my parents on a vacation after being in US for 3 years. I could hardly remember how it felt like to have a maid in the house.
On the very first day of my vacation, our family was settling down to chit-chat in the big balcony with tea and sun at its warmth best, when my mother said. “I doubt if Hansi is coming today”. The clock had struck 10 am and she hadn’t arrived yet. My mother’s anxiety was obvious. “How do you know?” I asked. I was informed that as part of Hansi’s daily routine, she does some chores early morning in the Bhatt’s house before coming to our place. Our colony had a circular arrangement of houses with a small park in the middle. Their house is visible from ours. So that’s how my mother caught a view daily of Hansi working there. Today she hadn’t spotter her.
By afternoon I was fairly acquainted with Hansi. My mother narrated several of her scandals. How my parents got her new pair of slippers after noticing her barefoot one day but how she would never wash the stairs outside the doorway unless pressed a hundred times. How my mother always tried to give her any extra groceries in the house thinking Hansi would save some money but how she would not wipe the living room floor the day she would unwillingly wash the stairs, to balance her workload that is. Also she would always be on leave during holidays, when one can expect extra work due to guests and festivities. And she always expected full salary. Towards the end of these stories I really felt sorry for my mother and Hansi was placed as a devil in my mind.
That evening my mother set out to inquire after Hansi. When she returned, she didn’t look angry anymore. Hansi’s 4 year old son had fallen sick. That’s the reason she couldn’t come. She had promised my mother that she would come to clean the utensils (and nothing else) from tomorrow. But a few tomorrows passed and there was no sign of Hansi. On the fourth day, my mother went to visit some neighbors to look for a new maid. And the next day Sarda started working for us.
After her first day of work, my mother was very pleased. I was still skeptical having heard such horrid stories about Hansi. But my mother pointed out how the marble floors had a distinct shine that day after the mop and so did the utensils, which was always missing from Hansi’s work she said. The next day Sarda surprised us further. She was spotted washing the stairs without anybody asking her to do that. They looked dirty she simply said and my mother was speechless.
In the next few days while Sarda worked around the house, I came to realize that she was really fun to speak to and enjoyed her work. My mother would make sure Sarda eats lunch at our place before she left after completing the work. I asked my mother if this pampering would not spoil her. She told me she always gave lunch to Hansi as well, and it was only natural that Sarda has lunch when we did at the same time. I would often find them chatting about different subjects, of upcoming marriages in neighborhood or visiting guests or other local events. With my father out for work, I could see how natural it was for my mother, a housewife, to find a company in Sarda. I realized. It’s a bond, it is, the maid and her madam. Whether it’s the wait, the anxiety, the anger or the friendship, the happiness of a household can depend on the maid arriving to work in time.
I was back in US after a month. I called my mother one morning and asked her what she was doing. “I’m waiting for Sarda to come, I don't think she is coming today”, she said. I smiled.
