First a Human

Our stay in Mysore was short and sporadic with perhaps  a dozen or more trips to Bangalore to see Appa.  Still a house of some sort had to be run with its share of Domestic Helps etc. As always, Domestic Helps come in all types and colours.  Some are  talkative,  some are sullen and come to work with a long face, some want to know everything about the new employer. While in Mysore, at first obviously I had no idea of the quality of their work. But one thing, I learnt pretty fast.... the Bais or vellai kaaris in mysore are extremely dignified and  decent. Roopa, a young woman of thirty five or so came to work with heavy references. A smiling, cheerful girl... she once asked me what my children were doing. Mysoreans have a quaint way of  figuring  out one's social and ethical variables through this one  question which says all. I told her I had none expecting the usual sympathy or curiosity or any of the zillion usual responses.

  Instead Roopa said in a very dignified manner that she was sorry to have  asked the question. I was impressed that this smiling girl from a different background should have such finesse. Over time, Roopa stopped coming and started sending her aunt, an elderly woman to work in my house. For some unknown reason, like many new servants generally are, this woman was slightly wary, hostile and resistant., vaguely disapproving. The language barrier did not help any.... I wanted to reassure her that I had no intention of harassing or overloading her physical fuel tank.  She spoke a dialect of Kannada , not very commonly spoken or understood.....once, there was also a slight fracas and she told me that she would not wipe the dining table. I was also upset and there was some underlying tension. So I thought it was best to step out of the way and let her do what she want. I soon found that her work was very good ; she would scrub and  clean till vessel and floor alike sparkled.  she was also extremely punctual...would turn up on the dot. This silent, single, woman..... Roopa had once mentioned that her aunt had not married but she regarded her aunt as her mother and therefore she lived  with hers. Workwise Roopa was not great but her sense of family and bond really impressed me.

   Mahadevamma, as she was known also settled into a a slow, steady rhythm, her work of shining quality and silent sparkle, very much like the woman herself.  The woman who had once sullenly refused to do a small job out of  sheer cussedness was now literally snatching the duster out of my hands to  do the job.By nature very systematic, cooordinated and thorough, she would not shirk or skip; a perfectionist to the core. Scrubbing vessels was not a tedious, hasty chore but a silent, steady worship in the altar of Work. She would weave a steady rhythm in the scrubbing and rinsing with quiet commitment, totally immersed and totally engrossed. Time stood still while vessels gleamed. Once my husband also commented whether there was any need to wash for so long. To which I replied that I had not set her to work at the vessels. Deepawali came and I got sweets for both Roopa and Mahadevamma. In her decency, Mahadevamma remarked that it was enough to give one one person...Roopa

Soon the time came for us to leave Mysore...we had always known this all along. The decision, necessary as it was, was heavy on our heart and mind....the delightful little city with its dainty, clean shops and people had fascinated us in so many ways. Mahadevamma also came for her last day of work .... went about her work with usual thoroughness and dedication....no indifference or casualness. It was an usual workday for her....no matter we were leaving the next day. Work was her soul; her sustenance

 After she finished her work daily, she would normally leave asking one of us to latch the door. Today however, she did a huge Namaste to both of us individually and stood silent for a long time as if she wanted to say something but could't. It was a heavy, poignant  moment hanging in space waiting to be picked up. and shaped by human hands. The three of us  just waited in silenceas if afraid that the magic of the moment would disappear.  It was almost as if she wanted to say that I like coming to your house to work... now that you are going... this ends. The unspoken empathy filled me with a sense of destiny and the truth that all good things like our stay in Mysore must come to an end. So many happy experiences; so many happy memories in a quiet charming little city, where one had the time to savour and the sense to distill and discern,,,,, Valuable and  enabling lessons  for the Examination called LIFE.

I had lot of pending job....so I Ssirred. Whereupon she left wthout looking back, No request to latch the door as if afraid that words might shatter the silence of the unspoken. The moment vaporized into atmospheric particles; I wanted to chase and snatch the moment to keep and cherish it. But it had disappeared for ever without a trace.  The fragrance remained, invigorating my tired body and energising my sleepy senses. The memories of Mysore will always remain but the kind, quiet empathy of the silent maid  are verdant mental-scapes which will nurture and nourish me forever and ever on tired , long days.