It was almost ten thirty at night when there was a loud knock on the door. Mrs. Das was alone at home that night; her husband had gone on an official tour. With her heart beat increasing, she proceeded softly to the entrance and shouted from inside "Who is it?"
"Didi, it's me, Aarati."
Arati? At this hour? "Wait a minute. Let me get the keys."
As Mrs. Das opened the wooden door which led to the verandah with the iron grill she asked "What's the matter? Didn't you go home today?"
All she could hear in response was the sound of Arati's sobs.
Arati was Mrs. Das' maid of ten years. In addition to Mrs. Das she worked in twelve other houses where she washed dishes twice a day and swept and mopped floors. This has been her job for the last eighteen years. Her day started at three in the morning. Before cleaning up other people's houses she had to clean up her home first. She'd sweep and mop the floor, boil some rice and vegetables, pack some of it for herself and leave most of it for her son and then rush to catch the four o' clock train which would bring her to the city. Just in time to reach the first house at 5.30 a.m., after a thirty minute walk from the railway station.
Things were not like this from the beginning though. She was the third child born into a lower middle class family of two brothers, two sisters, a hardworking father and a caring mother. At the age of nineteen her parents married her off to Bablu, a garment factory worker who turned out to be the creator of her present condition. She got to find out Bablu's true colors a few months after their marriage. He turned out to be a regular drinker bordering on the verge of alcoholism. She tried to stop him but whenever he faced opposition he became ferocious and signs of domestic violence began to appear on the scene. Seeing Bablu squander away his money she started working at a tailor shop, stitching blouses and dresses where she got paid by the number of pieces she could stitch. She brought a bagful of cut out pieces and then stitched them at home. A year and a half into her marriage, her son, Raja was born. With the arrival of Raja, Arati thought things would improve. But Bablu continued with his drinking and now he stopped coming home at times. Every other day he would disappear and come home early in the morning or later in the day. When Arati questioned him, he remained silent. The frequency of his disappearances started increasing as the days went by till one day he just vanished. There was no sign of him. None of his friends, the people he used to hang out with, drink and gamble, knew about his whereabouts. Arati went to file a complaint at the police station but the officer on duty dismissed her saying that such things happened, and that he would appear on his own when he was done fooling around. This made Arati furious and having no further knowledge of what to do she resigned herself to the task at hand.
Arati continued stitching the blouses but soon she realized that she could not survive on that alone. It was then that she took up the job of a nanny. She used to take Raja with her, who was two and half years old by this time. There Raja would play with the kid while Arati would do all the work and then return home in the evening where she would then become busy with her sewing. The hardships took a toll on her and the strains started showing in the form of her deteriorating health and her irritable mood.
One day as she was sewing the blouses she heard a few loud thumps on the door in quick succession. Her heart started racing. Must be one of those drunkards! Can't even locate their own house, they are so drunk. She looked at her son, who was sound asleep on the bed. She sat there tightly, not budging an inch. And then she heard someone call out her name.
"Open the door…it's me."
Still she kept quiet and sat still.
"Open the door". This time Arati thought she recognized the voice. It seemed like her husband's. She asked "Who is it? Raja's father?"
"Open up you …" the expletives confirmed that it was indeed her husband. She opened the door and there stood her husband, bloodshot eyes staring at her wildly.
"What took you so long you bitch"
Arati's feelings of happiness soon gave way to disgust as she realized her husband was drunk as ever. The way he spoke to her was as if he had never been away. It was just like before.
"Or do you have a man in the house, eh?" he took hold of her cheeks and squeezed them vigorously.
"Lower your voice. Raja is sleeping."
"This is my house. I'll do whatever I want. Do you understand?" Arati gritted her teeth and kept quiet. With that he took one look at his son and then dropped onto the bed beside him.
During his stay Bablu remained comparatively sober. He still drank with his friends but he was nice to his wife and son. Arati thought that he had changed. He persuaded her to give up the work of a nanny because he had found work as a rickshaw puller. He still didn't like the fact that his wife went outside to work, not realizing that it was that work which had kept them going.
"What guarantee is there that you will not take off again?" she asked.
"Trust me, I won't go anywhere. That is why I got the rickshaw," he said.
Arati wanted to ask him where he had been but fear stopped her.
"What use will the rickshaw be…you will drink away whatever you will earn," she said.
"Now don't worry about that. I'll stop drinking. You don't have to work anymore at that house. Go and tell them tomorrow, ok?"
Arati wanted to believe him but she couldn't. In spite of that she left her job as a nanny but she continued to do the sewing. Life continued as before for Arati. The money her husband earned was spent mostly in drinking. Sometimes he came home in a good mood, sometimes he was enraged. She couldn't figure out what made him happy or angry but she always dreaded when it was time for him to come home.
And then one day Bablu vanished again taking with him Arati's gold jewelry that she kept in a suitcase and a thousand rupees that she had saved from her earnings. Arati's loss left her distracted. The jewelry was the ones given to her by parents during her marriage and the thousand rupees she had managed to save by working as a nanny. She was at sea now. She needed a job. She went to her former employer but they had already hired someone else. Why did she listen to that cheat, that son of a bitch? What was she thinking? She asked people about jobs but all she found were the jobs of maids. The idea of washing and cleaning other people's mess did not appeal to her. But she had no other choice. Raja was growing up and now she had to think of his schooling and education. If she worked as a maid she'd be able to work in multiple houses and earn more money. She needed all the money she could get. Her neighbor helped her get a job as a maid and slowly she built a network through which she got more work. Initially she felt nauseated cleaning other people's dishes and utensils, and all the mess and dirt but with time she got accustomed.
What kept her going through all these years was her son Raja. She slogged on untiringly day after day, year after year with the single hope that her son will grow up to be a successful man one day and relieve her of her misery. With her husband gone, her son was her only hope now. There was only one motive in her life and that was to take care of her son to the utmost, to provide him with all the luxuries of life, so that he didn't feel left out amongst his peers. She admitted her son to a government aided school, fed him properly complete with health drink and all and even provided private tutors. All this expense stretched her income to the limit. In order to make some extra income she stopped taking sarees from her employers' during the time of Durga Puja. (Durga Puja is the most important festival of the Bengalis.) Instead she asked for cash and she even argued with her employers over the amount of cash she wanted and in the process lost jobs a few times. But she found others fairly soon.
As her son grew up his demands started increasing. Previously one new shirt or a new pair of trousers was enough but now he was becoming aware of himself and the fashion of the day.
"Ma, I want a new jeans and new shoes this puja," Raja said one day.
"Raja, I can't provide both. Which one do you want more? You know I don't have the money to buy both," Arati said.
"I don't know…I need both. Money is your problem," he said.
"Well you can't have both. I don't have so much money," she said.
"You'll get a lot of cash during the pujas. What will you do with so much money?"
"What will I do with so much money? Don't you know? Who pays your tuition fees, your books, your private tutors? I have to pay for all these year round. Where will the money come from? Don't you have any shame? I am spending so much money but look at your report card…" she said.
"Ok ok. Now don't start lecturing again."
"What do you mean ok? I take the cash in place of sarees. Have you ever asked if I have a new saree for the pujas? Have you ever taken any note of me? Aren't you old enough? Why bother? All you need me for is the money. You will understand when I am not there…" Arati's voice became louder with each word.
"Oh come on. Don't start whining again. All I wanted was a jeans and a pair of shoes…and she starts off…"
He started walking towards the door.
"Where are you going?" asked Arati.
"Do I have to tell you everything?"
"Raja, don't forget I am your mother. Because of me you are standing here today and making your demands…" she raised her finger at him as she walked toward him.
"Will you stop nagging?" with that he shoved her away and she lost her balance and fell.
'I am your mother'…can't buy a jeans and shoes at the same time…'I am your mother,' he muttered as he left the house.
Arati sat there weeping, comforting herself in her own sorrow. After a few hours things were back to normal again. Arati forgave her son for his rude behavior with the excuse that he was still young and he was justified in making demands. She didn't buy any new saree that year, saved money and somehow managed to buy both the jeans and the shoes. After all it was Durga Puja. Everybody would be wearing new clothes and enjoying themselves and as a mother it was her duty to see that her son didn't feel left out. 'After all, he's a young boy', she thought. 'A few more years and Raja will be eligible for a job. Then I will quit working for the Ghosh's and the Roy's…stingy people.' With that she justified everything and resumed to her life of slogging.
Grade ten was the magical key to all the problems in Arati's life. Once you crossed that hurdle there were thousands of jobs with decent salaries and Arati looked forward to the day when her son would pass out and land a job and lend her support. But that was not to be. Her son had decided to drop out in the middle of grade eight. Arati could see all those years of struggle and slavery go down the drain right in front of her eyes. All her employers told her not to waste any more money on her son's education. Instead they told her to get him involved in some work. But how could she listen to them? She had ignored her entire life for her son and his upbringing.
"Didi will you talk to Raja? Will you persuade him not to drop out now?" she asked Mrs. Das. Mrs. Das was the one to whom she went for advice. She was a nice lady who had helped Arati time and again through her struggles. It was she who had opened a bank account for her so that she could accumulate her savings and it was with that savings that Arati had built the house.
"Have you asked him why he wants to drop out?" asked Mrs. Das.
"He doesn't talk to me properly these days. If I ask anything he doesn't give any clear answer and starts showing his temper…" Arati said.
"Can't you give him one tight slap? You should have slapped him earlier when he was young. Now it's too late," Mrs. Das said.
"What shall I do Didi? I worked so hard for him; I spent so much money…now he wants to drop out. I don't know what to do…Will you please talk to him?"
"See Arati…I'll talk to him since you are asking me. But let me tell you something honestly. Since he's not interested don't force him. You'll only waste your money and he'll be fooling around the whole time. Instead make him do some work. Ask him to find a job. What happened to his soccer?"
"He plays at the club. They said that if he can complete grade ten they will put him in the state team if he performs well," Arati said.
"Then why don't you go and talk to the manager of the club? See if he can persuade your son," Mrs. Das said.
Arati kept quiet.
"And if that doesn't work then ask him to do some work…" Mrs. Das said.
"But can he work now? He's still so young,"
"Arati, your son is growing up. Start giving him some responsibilities. If you think he won't be able to work, then let him enjoy his life while you slog like an ox."
Mrs. Das saw the expression on Arati's face change from concern to anger as she completed her sentence. She continued, "Look, I want him to study but I don't want you to waste your money. I know how much you have to struggle to earn that money."
Raja came to Mrs. Das but from his attitude she knew that she was wasting her time. Still she tried her best to make the boy understand out of concern for Arati.
Raja promised to work and he did work after his mother pestered him day after day, but they were sporadic. He found work in a store but didn't stay there more than a week because the store hours of 9:00 – 8:00 were too much for him. He didn't get to meet his friends or play soccer. So he left after a week. He worked at times but most of the time he remained idle while Arati continued with her struggles. He took to smoking and drinking and gambling. Everyone started seeing traits of his father in him including Arati. She was worried that her son would end up walking in his father's footsteps in spite of her best efforts. Raja whiled away his time doing nothing and constantly pestered his mother with demands. The demands were endless starting from a shirt to a watch to eating meat and other delicacies to a few hundred rupees. Seeing Raja's behavior and mannerisms everyone warned Arati to be tough and strong and not to give in to all his whims and wishes. Even she wanted to, but her emotions got the better of her and that proved to be her doom.
Life for Arati continued in its own way. She had accepted the fact that her son wouldn't be a secondary school graduate. All she hoped now was for him to do some proper work so that he could support her. In the meantime she had built a house with the savings she made each month from her meager salary. Her house was a tiny one roomed building with cemented floors and an asbestos roof with no electricity. Small as it may be this was something she could call her own. Now there would be no trouble with the landlord or the tension of increased rent. One problem though was that it was quite a distance away from her work place. She had built the house twenty kilometers away in a suburban ghetto outside the city. Land was cheap there and it was inhabited mostly by working class people like her. Things had been going on in this fashion for a few years till one day Raja landed up with a wife in tow. He had met this girl at a friend's place and after meeting her for a few days they went to a nearby temple and got married. With an extra mouth to feed Arati was furious at her son. He worked on and off but none of it went in supporting his mother.
After the arrival of his wife Raja started pestering his mother to transfer the house in his name. This was one thing Arati had decided from the very beginning that she won't do. Altercations and quarrels between the three of them would occur every other day regarding the ownership of the house. Her daughter-in-law never participated directly in the arguments but she didn't prevent her husband either. She didn't really care much for either the house or her mother-in-law. As long matters didn't affect her directly she didn't bother. Things took an ugly turn one day when her son in a drunken rage charged at her with a knife in hand. That'd have put an end to all her miseries but for the intervention of her daughter-in-law. She pushed Arati out of the way and grabbed the knife from her husband. Still under the influence, her son pushed her out of the house while his wife stood and watched. A few moments later he opened the door again and threw her bag at her. The bag landed with a thud a few feet away from her.
"Remember, you will have to pay for this. I will come back to this house. This is my house, I made it with my flesh and blood…Don't forget there is a God above. He is watching everything."
She stood there hoping that the door would open, but when there was no response after a long time from inside the house, she picked up her bag and started walking. She walked on unmindfully not making any effort to wipe away the tears when at one point she realized that she had reached the station. She was so accustomed to her daily routine that without any effort she took the path. That was the only way she knew. Home to work. Work to home. Slaving at an endless round of cleaning and washing for others, denying herself everything so that her son may benefit.
When Mrs. Das heard what had happened she wasn't surprised. She had seen the possibilities of such a scenario but had hoped against it. Along with others she had warned Arati time and again. But her love for her son had brought her to this stage. Mrs. Das let her stay at her place. Arati waited for her son to call but with each passing day the flicker of hope diminished. Time and again she thought of going back to her house but in the end her mind won the battle over her emotions and she gave up what was rightfully hers. If only the mind had won earlier.
