Unique Bonds

Today, my mother called up Padma, the house help, to find out how she was doing. She has been with my mother for many years and this Lockdown period is probably the longest ever that she hasn't come home. They had a long heart to heart chat. Following my mother's side of the conversation, I could make out that she was missing my mother as much as my mother was missing her, if not more. My mother is her confidante, her mentor, her counselor, her mother-figure all rolled into one. For my mother, who lives alone, she's like a family member. She knows more about what is kept where in the house than either I or my brother, who are but just visitors. She claims an ownership with my mother and the routine of the house more than any of us can ever do.

She asks to speak to me as well, and when I enquire about her well being and how her family is managing, she says all is well and that her husband is at home too. There's a catch in her throat. I know the subtext to that. Her husband is an alcoholic who for many years struggled with giving up the bottle and going back to it with a vengeance every time. I can only imagine what mental and physical trauma she must be undergoing living with a person like that under the circumstances of Lockdown.

After a minute, she composes herself to enquire about me and how my husband and daughter are managing back home. Inspite of her own hardships and anxieties she recognizes and acknowledges the pain of my separation from my family. She pacifies me that under such distressing circumstances I'm here with my mother. On my part, I try to assuage her fears and say that hopefully soon, we will get back to some kind of normalcy. My words don't sound very convincing but I try my best to assure her that this too shall pass.

I try to steer the conversation to a lighter note by saying that I am trying to be a good substitute for her. I tell her about my experiments with the "Muggu"! She is not amused. She apologizes that I'm having to do the chores as if it's her fault. I convince her that none of this is anyone's fault and we all have to just get through this.

We ask about her children. She says she doesn't want to wake them up. It's past 9.30 in the morning and my mother and I wonder if she has enough food at home to feed them. On the phone she had assured us that she lacks nothing. We know her self esteem is worth more than her hunger. We know that no amount of money that we transfer to her account feels the same as the money she earns through her own hard work. The reason she migrated to the city from her village was to earn her daily bread and stand on her own. To sit and wait and get back to a routine that helped her build her self-esteem is a big blow to her morale. We tell her staying home and being safe are far more important at this point. It's a question of life, I explain to her. She is not convinced but agrees half-heartedly.

From my previous conversations with her I know how much being self reliant means to her, how much she dislikes being at the receiving end of charity and how much her self esteem means to her. I know these issues cannot take priority given the bigger picture. But to her, they mean Life itself. It is a Catch22 situation.

It's a trying time for each one of us. In our own ways we are all undergoing the stress and anxiety of these uncertain times. We can never truly understand or appreciate each other's pain. We can never truly put ourselves in someone else's shoes. But all we can hope to do is empathize and alleviate each other's fears and try to lift each other up. It's a unique relationship that we have with our house helps. We are interdependent in many ways, bound by a unique bond that goes beyond just the work and money equation. Can't wait for the day Padma comes back home and reclaims ownership of the house...and reclaims her smile and confidence too in the process.