(This is a true story. Happened when posted to Air Force station Halwara)
No one I knew , knew her name . My maid rani had tried telling me , on some occasions , but it slipped my memory, effortlessly.
She was the type of woman no one would like to keep as a maid , and send their man-servants to shoo off their lawns /premises, if found therein.
A naked runny nosed baby forever perched on her bony hips, clad in a salwar kameez of indeterminate colour, it could have been red, brown, green , any of those colours , at one point of time, right now it was the same shade of poverty and misery that fate had decided to colour her in.
Disheveled straw-colored hair, and high pitched voice, forever raised , either fighting pitched verbal duels with her uncharitable neighbors, or out-shouting her numerous, delinquent children.
She inhabited the bottom rung of the social ladder , even amongst the servant class. Her children were certified thieves, her husband a perpetual drunk, and the mere sight of her, would prompt people to shut their doors.
The servant grapevine said that she was muslim girl who had eloped with the hindu kudawallah, but the world didn't care. She was just a dirt-poor, wretched soul. Her religious status as immaterial as her existence.
That she was a person of substance , was revealed to us one rainy morning.
Previous night, we did hear commotion in the neighbouring servant quarter, but had promptly dismissed it as one of kudawallah's usual drunken fights. Apparently, after some heated exchange between the spouses, the husband , in his more than usual drunken torpor, picked up a sickle, and threatened to slice open the numerous throats that lay screaming and howling about him. That threat did something to his wife. She picked up a broom, and beat him out-cold, then locked him up in the bathroom. Next, she put her eldest in charge of the younger ones and latched them in their only room.Then she took the youngest one, perched him on her hips, pulled her tattered dupatta on her straw-hair , and marched out into the pitch dark night, raining cats and dogs.Braving torrential rain, and armed -to-the-teeth guards, she walked right upto the gates of the AOC (Air Officer Commanding), the big boss of the station , and rang his bell for justice.
Within minutes, two jeep loads of carbine toting airmen were parked next to our block. Terrified servants watched from their doorways, as the kuda wallah was kicked , shoved and dragged through the rainy night , into the waiting jeep and remanded to judicial custody, indefinitely.
The wife had made the world sit up and take notice of her plight. She was not going down without a fight.
Next, the garbage started piling up. The housewives' were beginning to raise a stink , as three-four days' of garbage sat forlornly in drive ways and porches, an open feast for crows and stray dogs.With the colony garbage -collector behind bars , the sanitation of the colony was threatened . Urgent meetings were held to nominate a new guy.
We were informed , in impeccable officialese, by the means of a circular, that the new garbage -collector shall resume duties on so-and-so date. Before the said date, a heartwarming sight greeted us around mid-morning. The kuda wallah's"thela"(open rickshaw)trundled in with its familiar rattle through the gates. Only this time , it was being pedaled by one of his notorious sons, while other children rushed about , collecting garbage , and clearing the colony of it accumulated filth in record time. The kuda wallah's wife walked sedately behind the thela, directing operations, her baby perched on her hips, sucking its thumb. "She was not letting some namby-pamby guy snatch the bread from her kids' mouth", Rani narrated to us later.
The event became the talk of the colony.
Their heartstrings tugged, ladies loosened up their purse strings, and the kids got new smart school uniforms and admissions. The lady gave up her monochromatic clothing, and was employed part-time maid in two houses, besides being allowed to retain the kuda wallah's job.
A sober and chastised kuda wallah joined his family, two weeks later.
She was the type of woman no one would like to keep as a maid , and send their man-servants to shoo off their lawns /premises, if found therein.
A naked runny nosed baby forever perched on her bony hips, clad in a salwar kameez of indeterminate colour, it could have been red, brown, green , any of those colours , at one point of time, right now it was the same shade of poverty and misery that fate had decided to colour her in.
Disheveled straw-colored hair, and high pitched voice, forever raised , either fighting pitched verbal duels with her uncharitable neighbors, or out-shouting her numerous, delinquent children.
She inhabited the bottom rung of the social ladder , even amongst the servant class. Her children were certified thieves, her husband a perpetual drunk, and the mere sight of her, would prompt people to shut their doors.
The servant grapevine said that she was muslim girl who had eloped with the hindu kudawallah, but the world didn't care. She was just a dirt-poor, wretched soul. Her religious status as immaterial as her existence.
That she was a person of substance , was revealed to us one rainy morning.
Previous night, we did hear commotion in the neighbouring servant quarter, but had promptly dismissed it as one of kudawallah's usual drunken fights. Apparently, after some heated exchange between the spouses, the husband , in his more than usual drunken torpor, picked up a sickle, and threatened to slice open the numerous throats that lay screaming and howling about him. That threat did something to his wife. She picked up a broom, and beat him out-cold, then locked him up in the bathroom. Next, she put her eldest in charge of the younger ones and latched them in their only room.Then she took the youngest one, perched him on her hips, pulled her tattered dupatta on her straw-hair , and marched out into the pitch dark night, raining cats and dogs.Braving torrential rain, and armed -to-the-teeth guards, she walked right upto the gates of the AOC (Air Officer Commanding), the big boss of the station , and rang his bell for justice.
Within minutes, two jeep loads of carbine toting airmen were parked next to our block. Terrified servants watched from their doorways, as the kuda wallah was kicked , shoved and dragged through the rainy night , into the waiting jeep and remanded to judicial custody, indefinitely.
The wife had made the world sit up and take notice of her plight. She was not going down without a fight.
Next, the garbage started piling up. The housewives' were beginning to raise a stink , as three-four days' of garbage sat forlornly in drive ways and porches, an open feast for crows and stray dogs.With the colony garbage -collector behind bars , the sanitation of the colony was threatened . Urgent meetings were held to nominate a new guy.
We were informed , in impeccable officialese, by the means of a circular, that the new garbage -collector shall resume duties on so-and-so date. Before the said date, a heartwarming sight greeted us around mid-morning. The kuda wallah's"thela"(open rickshaw)trundled in with its familiar rattle through the gates. Only this time , it was being pedaled by one of his notorious sons, while other children rushed about , collecting garbage , and clearing the colony of it accumulated filth in record time. The kuda wallah's wife walked sedately behind the thela, directing operations, her baby perched on her hips, sucking its thumb. "She was not letting some namby-pamby guy snatch the bread from her kids' mouth", Rani narrated to us later.
The event became the talk of the colony.
Their heartstrings tugged, ladies loosened up their purse strings, and the kids got new smart school uniforms and admissions. The lady gave up her monochromatic clothing, and was employed part-time maid in two houses, besides being allowed to retain the kuda wallah's job.
A sober and chastised kuda wallah joined his family, two weeks later.
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