Photo-Story

The maid I didn't know

Meet Neeta- my cook, typical Bengali woman, coming from Bengali heartland. Her bindee, like a every archetypical Bengali woman always reminded me where she comes from. What so special about her to ponder? For me, since yesterday I was trying to co-relate her smile on face to the pain, she is carrying all along.

“It all started two days back”, she started,” While I was coming to your place, I saw bulldozers bulling out homes nearby”

She paused. What stopped her all of a sudden? I knew she wanted to talk but then will she tell me the pain behind her smile?

“They came to bully our homes. I don’t know why but they came. I thought they would never, but…”

She stopped again. It’s pain to bear the pain and keep mum. It’s burden. It’s tough to conceal it behind smile, sometimes. She is still good at that.

From her narration, I came to know that her home may be bulldoze in coming days to make way for impending Delhi Metro project nearby her area. There is cost to be paid for development, but when it reached my home, I got disturbed.

“Where will you stay then? Where is your husband?” I interrupted.

“Chali jaoongi ghar wapas! Muze yaha accha nahi lagta. Wo to meri maa hai isliye…”

“Ghar matlab?” I was curious to know. “Bengal”, she continued,” When I was five year old, my mother left me to her father’s custody. He became my custodian. I stayed with my grandpa away from my mother”

I realized the distance between Delhi and Kolkata now. I realized the separation. It’s just something not going to cover soon.

“And then?” I wanted her to continue.

“I stayed there till I got married to man of my choice. My mother brought both of us here. You know, I came to Delhi just three days after my marriage”

She was proud of her man. Her eyes told me.

“Within three days!!!” I exclaimed…”Yes, three days”, she replied.

“And where will you shift your home for timebeing?” I really didn’t know should I be asking such questions or not now.

“Kahi bhi, I got so many relatives out here. I can stay with them. I will follow my mother, as she brought me back here from Kolkata. I don’t fear anything, but I want to go back home. I don’t like Delhi” She wasn’t smiling. I realized it and the moment she realized she gazed away from me.

“Chalo muze kahana banana hai”, she wanted to pull away now.

“Do you want help?” I don’t know how am I going to help her, but wanted to tell her don’t worry. She didn’t reply. “Bas subji leke ana time pe..” She was smiling now. I looked at empty basket and realized there is lot many emotions involved in everyone. No one is empty. Every one has a story to tell, but no has time to listen.