sabina (my story) published in an international book

Sabina

‘Sometimes life doesn’t give us choices,’ I thought, as I saw her white toothy smile that overshadowed her dirty face, torn saree and cracked heels. Was this frail lady going to help us settle in our new house? ‘Sabina,’ she pointed to herself. With a twinkle in her eye, she said would do all my housework for Rs 1000 per month. I agreed, only after an argument as I had to live up to the Indian haggling protocol – her beam widened. She was employed.

Little did I realize that this was a meagre amount to change my vision of life.

Opening and settling our luggage boxes in our new house would have been like a climb to Mount Everest but for Sabina, who arranged everything with effortless dexterity. The temperatures were rising steadily but sultry summer heat was not a deterrent for Sabina as she tirelessly cleaned and scrubbed our house. I lay on my couch with the chilled iced tea and threatened her to do her job properly or else...she only responded with a wide smile. ‘This time life hasn’t given her a choice’, I thought. She has to bear with me. I pay her.

As days passed she grew into an integral part of our lives. The bell would ring at sharp 6 AM, whether I wanted it to or not. Hiding under my pillow only made her press the bell more. Her work was like her prayer. She did it with her soul.

Honesty is something that we don’t expect out of domestic help in India, but she was an exception. Be it my earrings left carelessly by me or money left in my husband’s trouser pocket, it would be promptly returned to us with a little chiding. We got accustomed to her friendly beam early in the morning. Each time I warned her to work properly, she responded with a smile that somehow made me feel really small. Her calm reminded me of my mother’s face when I used to throw a tantrum without reason.

The only time I saw a frown on her face was when the door of our two year old baby, Akshat, got locked from the inside. Like any hysterical mother I was howling and calling up locksmiths. ‘This is an emergency, I screamed, ‘come right now...my voice trailed as I saw Akshat in front of me. Surprised, I hugged him tightly, ‘Shabina safed Aki’, he babbled. I looked at her. She had a bruised elbow. As I put medicine on her, she answered the query in my eye - she had jumped from one balcony to the other, then to the other and forced open the balcony door and got out ‘Pinku’, as she lovingly called our son. The monetary arrogance in me broke. I couldn’t pay her for this.

After the incident I wanted to understand the roots of her value system. One day she coyly invited me to her ‘home’. Jumping over the water drains and slush, I reached her ‘home’. It was a modest shack with a tin roof that was like an ‘unidentified flying object’, on a windy day.  She quickly got a chair that creaked under my weight, ‘Didi sit, sit’. Her two children peeped behind a torn curtain, as if catching a glimpse of a Hollywood ‘biggi’! Soon she appeared with a bowl full of rice ‘kheer’, an Indian sweet. ‘I’ve cleaned everything properly like you do,’ she specified. I looked deep into the bowl to hide my moist eyes. She was so conscious of her status, when that was the last thing on my mind. For me she was someone I owed a lot. For settling our house, for keeping it sparkling, for saving our son...

As I dug into the pudding, she sat on the ground and narrated that she was from a poor village and had lost her parents at an early age, her uncle who couldn’t care less, got her married to a lame man, who could not support her. She was the sole bread winner of a family of four. The more she talked the more I realized how much god had given me, yet why didn’t I smile as much as her?

How did she manage to smile all the time?  As if reading my mind she said, ‘I have two choices Didi, either I cry or I laugh’. Her words struck me like a thunderbolt. The two choices are with all of us.

She introduced me with life’s biggest choices. And I have never been able to repay her for it.

Neha Shrivastava

article in times of india

Publication: Times Of India Delhi;
Date: Jun 28, 2009;
Section: Times Life;
Page: 58
Soul Curry
Times Life reader Neha Srivastava logs in what she’s learnt in her 36 years of existence
1978 A glass of milk stared at me menacingly. How do I get rid of it with Mom standing right on top of my head? The sink was an old trick; my sister always knew if her glass was refilled; plants disclosed the secret… there was no saviour. At 5, life taught me that there was no escaping milk and Mom. 1983 “I want that dress now,” I screamed. It was my best friend’s party and I wanted a new dress. There was an insanely sane expression on Mom’s face, till I stopped screaming as I realised I’d just bought a dress a month ago. At 10, life had taught me that unreasonable demands were never fulfilled. 1988 “Don’t tell your Mom, I’m not telling mine either, that we are going for the movie after class. They will never allow us,” I whispered to my friend over the phone. “No,” came the prompt reply, “I never hide anything from my Mom and I’m sure she will let me go.” And so it was. Our parents not only allowed us to go but also gave us extra money. At 15, life taught me that good company always makes you a better person and reasonable demands are always fulfilled. 1993 “This is my life, I will make my own career decision.” Dad just looked up from beneath his glasses and said, “Of course you will, but Economics hasn’t ever been very good to you and English always pulls your marks up.” I took English Honours and topped the course. I was picked up by a top advertising agency. At20, life had taught me to respect experienced people. 1998 Plonk went my engagement ring in GETTY IMAGES the dustbin… “What do you think of yourself? I told you to be on time, but you were busy in office.” With a tilted smile, my fiancé fetched the ring out of the dustbin, took my hand and put it on again, “Sorry, I’m late, I work so that I can give us a secure future.” Blush was all I could do. At 25, life had taught me that I needed to be more mature and that only the lucky ones found true love. 2003 I twisted in pain. The tumour above my uterus had been operated and the stitches were still wet. I thought the pain would never go. My family stood beside me like a rock, attending to every need. My husband donated blood and assured me that the pain would go soon. At that time, I never believed him. A month later, I was driving and had forgotten all the pain. At 30, life had taught me that pain and joy come in cycles; God doesn’t deprive anyone of either, because they are part of your growing process. 2006 In the sixth month of pregnancy, my husband and I are busy looking at websites, books and magazines for each week’s development of the baby. We are consulting doctors and driving our siblings, friends and parents crazy with our anxiousness. Praying. Everything must go well. 2009 Praying. It is still three hours to go for my hubby to get back from Finland by the 4am flight, our three-year-old brat is sleeping peacefully. I realise that I’m still praying. For big and small things! For the safety of my family — a big thing, for a dream house — a small thing… At 36, life taught me that God always listens to my prayers and also that I’m still learning the subject called life! There are three main things that life has taught me: One, that life teaches us a lesson every day. Second, our family is our weakness and our strength. Finally, God is there with us at every step. Just talk to Him. (Soul Curry is a column where we invite our readers to share their soul-stirring experiences)

article in readers digest

‘It’s Rs. 15...do you still want me to buy it.’ He screamed from across the road, the florist, the bikers and lovelorn people looked turned and looked at him. One good Samaritan on a bike saw my face (fuming and furious), indicated to my husband to buy it, grudgingly he bought it and handed it to me. The poor rose survived my glares but my hubby sure had a tough time digesting the meal I gave him on our first valentine.
As days of our marriage passed, the girly dream of getting a cocktail of “Tom Cruise mixed with SRK” dimmed. I wondered what my parents had thought before getting me married to this heartless six-footer. No chocolates, no cards not even a candle light dinner happened in the first six months of marriage. I made tea for him every morning and he gulped it down with a fixed smile and fixed words – ‘Thank you, it’s good’. A firm peck on the cheek and I was left alone to twiddle my thumbs all day.
The only solace I had was chatting with some friends, once while chatting I was informed by a common friend that the only thing my hubby hated was tea! Then why didn’t he tell me for six months? My mind started working, is he all that tough? My hopes rose as he got me tickets of an SRK film, I remembered telling him that I always see the first show. The point was that he remembered!
I wore new glasses to see my hubby now, to notice his subtle ways, he always sat on the side where there was more sun, he always waited till I had started my meal, gave me his glass of water as he knows I drink less water, being a cleanliness maniac he never said a word against my untidy ways instead he cleaned my cupboard that was like a volcano that erupted every time you opened it!
Valentine day was the day when the doctor confirmed that we are going to be parents. I may remind him of all the pregnancy pains and what it is to carry a child but he has never reminded me that he donated blood to me or that he spent sleepless nights when I was operated or that he was more alert and gave me my medicines before the nurses in the hospital could come.
Years have passed and we grew together. I have got so used to his gentle ways that I take them for granted, today thirteen years have passed since I first saw him, then I had just seen him but I know him now. The wisdom of my parents also dawned upon me, as to why they had chosen this ‘heartless’ six footer for me, whom I have yet to see angry with anybody - the car cleaner, subordinates, house workers...! Today our four year old son said, ‘I like Mamma, she loves me, kisses me, Papa never does.’ I realized that it’s his turn now to realize slowly what a wonderful father he has.
It’s strange why one always sees the loud and ignores the gentle and quiet things in life, why we love to read the bad things and find the good uninteresting to read. True to human nature I also would have ignored the birds that visit us every morning, the warmth of the early morning sun, the fun in closing your eyes when the wind is blowing...but for my dear husband who has tamed his shrew without his knowledge!
Happy Valentine’s Day Parikshet, I promise and want a promise that in this life and all the lives to come we will be together.
Neha Srivastava
9871039394

does ur viewpoint matter

everybody seems to have a view, arushi murder, gujjars today, srk aamir clash tomorrow...the point is how valid your point is. we were off to jaipur to celebrate my dad's birthday but the gujjar's viewpoint stalled our journey, travelling in this mess with udi our 20 month old son is insane - my point of view.