service in the name of God, she says, and diligently carries cups of aromatic, milky tea

I’ve always believed that if I need help I should ask for it and not feel embarrassed, or seen as weak by this status of neediness. I’ve had some amazing helpers all along the way, when I took on the life of a householder. Fact is I’m Indian, and it’s the way it is- one always has either part-time or full-time help, male or female. These are good, honest folk who help out with household chores such as cleaning of the home, doing our dishes, chopping veggies, babysitting etc. They could also be hired  to cook meals if you lack the ability or time to cook for the family yourself. So far it’s worked well, this give and take. It’s been our support system, as much as it has been theirs.

I’ve had all sorts in my twenty-five years of marriage, from the worst to currently, the best. I’ve usually been chatty with them, and we seem to know about each other’s lives as much as any family member would. We willingly expose, and they willingly divulge. And the channel that runs between us seems to have remained unhindered by any obstacles, so far.

Today, I read a flurry of messages, in this age of constant connect, about whether we should allow or disallow a helper to enter our homes- given that part-timers work in many homes that might contaminate our environment. It is a sad, sad time for those less fortunate than us. While mine lives in my home, she is a part-timer. So should I tell her to make her bed elsewhere? Am I that kind of person- worried for my own health and safety? Not yet, and I hope I never ever become such a one.

a sweet, smiling persona, our Rexona! She is dearly missed

Fact is, it’s One World, haven’t we come to realise that pretty quickly? What’s in our backyard today, is in yours tomorrow, be it a virulent COVID-19, or ….you name it- what goes round, comes round!

My helper Usha, a Burmese Nepalese, laughingly says to me this morning that she is lucky to be working for 3 families that allow her free entry – and that she’s not an industrial worker or a Nepali who works for a business. She informed me then, pretty woefully, that many of her compatriots have been denied salaries for the past two months and are being asked to not return till further notice. It broke my heart.  “When will this virus disappear Bhabhi?”  she whispered almost to herself, pained as she was. This term of endearment or moniker, if you will – Bhabhi ensures that my husband instantly becomes her brother. The word ‘Bhabhi’ in Hindi means sister-in-law, and in many communities the lady of the house is addressed thus. I like it. I love Usha, for so many reasons. She’s illiterate and is clean to a fault, which really does translate to a very squeaky clean home for us. It’s never happened before – my helpers have always been kind, loving and gentle people, but never impeccable workers. It was okay. I’m not impeccable either. We are blessed to have her, and tremendously lucky, I try not to forget that.

To return to why I’m penning this post : When Usha asked me when this dark period would end- I had no answer. No one has an answer. What I do know is that it is in how we treat those who serve us, and those who work with and for us, is a reflection of this world, staring right back at us. There’s a poem i recall reading as an adolescent in our literature class – and I quote from it :

What is truly wonderful, in all of this- is that we’ve been granted an unmissable opportunity to shine; to seize the day to honour our humane side, and for us to re-become the compassionate animals we were born as. This might be just the moment to remember our true purpose. Amen.

flowers and books, duly dusted, adorn our homes, reminding us that good times will return