Savithri is a fine lady, gentle and well mannered. She does not speak a word unless spoken to. She does not intrude into my life, unsolicited. She goes about her daily duties of cleaning, mopping and washing utensils, without any aberration. The only occasions that spark conversations between us are the ones where my gaze meets hers, when I open the door for her entry in to the house and when I see her out with the customary “Bye”. The periods in between are quoted with long silences and smiles, when deemed necessary. Ours is a relationship of convenience.
I check on her health and the well being of her family once in a while. But, this conversation does not go beyond me clicking my tongue and nodding my head in agreement or to express sympathy. There are days when these near silent interactions culminate in requests for money, prefaced with a portrait of her tough economic situation. Such proclamations leave me in a cloud of sorrow and guilt for the privileged life that I was leading. Giving her money to alleviate her troubles has never been a cause of concern. It is the conversations that lead up to this, that bother me. They are far from my comfort zone; they rattle me to the extent that, on some days, I seek refuge in the bathroom, until monsoon Savithri clears the coast. I have also outsourced some of the interactions to my daughter, to keep the sob stories at bay.
Savithri has been with us for almost a year now. She checks the box on all the to-do activities every day. Quality is in the eyes of the beholder. Finery and perfection are unused words in her dictionary. To get the job done is all that she cared for, like most of the men and women who have taken up this occupation for a living. This job feeds her and her family. It helps her stay afloat in troubled waters. She does not see art or music in it. She is bound by her financial status, to be a humanoid and go about a mechanical existence.
In the recent times, her pains and needs have multiplied. She requests me for money every now and then, citing her poor health or that of her family members. There is no predictable pattern. She would need money on Mondays or Saturdays, on full moon days or half moon days, on Holi or Ramzan, at the crack of dawn or on the verge of dusk. She is always in need of money. Most often, these requests are through Whatsapp messages, saving her the ignominy of facing me with outstretched palms. It is also a convenient arrangement for me, saving me from acts of sympathizing that I had to exhibit every time she shared a tale of woe. Money transfer through paytm is instant, effortless and most importantly, devoid of human emotions. I love these impassive transactions.
Every time she puts forth a money request, Savithri would tell me that I could deduct the “loan” from her monthly salary. This became a regular phenomenon, even after her debt grew from a molehill to a mountain. And on pay day, she would come with exceptional requests to not make any deductions. My heart and bank balance grew lighter with every transaction that I made to her account. I believed that, I was doing my bit to save mankind from poverty and deprivation. I never asked her to pay back what she owed me. This was also due to the fact that, such conversations made me uncomfortable. Putting someone on the spot, especially a person from the lower income strata, reminding her/him of overdue payments, was out of my list of core competencies. Such interactions put me off. They upset the fine imbalance that existed in my universe. One where money was flowing freely from my account to hers at the click of a button, whatsapp in her phone and paytm in mine.
On Friday, the 20th of October 2023, arrived a message in my apartment community group, posted by an elderly resident. It said, Savithri Bai had stolen money from his apartment and that she was caught red handed doing it. The person went on to add that, Savithri had confessed to the wrongdoing and had expressed apology for the act, though she called it involuntary. The message thread had many comments from fellow residents demanding her termination and initiation of police enquiry. I froze in my seat. Words from the message swam around my head in circles. The creator of the message had also shared her phone number, for verification. Hmm… the number that was so familiar to my phone, the first number on my paytm app, the number that I could recollect even in my dreams.
On Oct 21st, there was another message from the same person that, Savithri has been sending voice notes threatening him and his wife of dire consequences, if they conceived any action against her. He has requested support from all inmates of the apartment community, to ensure safety of his family, they being old and vulnerable. I sincerely wished that, all these allegations were false and caused by some misunderstanding or misrepresentation of facts. I wished that, the helper who came to my house every day and cleansed it off impurities, is not the one being accused of an impure deed. I wished that, the humble and gentle Savithri who played with my daughter, is not the one sending threats to senior citizens.
Truth and falsehood are two sides of a coin. I do not know which side I am looking at now. Did the elderly couple have any reason to frame Savithri if she had not erred? Did Savithri have the need to open their money vault, when I was sending her a steady stream of funds every month, whenever she asked for it? Was this the reason she never attempted such an act in my residence? Was she betraying me by not showing her true colors? Or did she try the same at my place too, when I wasn’t watching? A million questions swarmed my head, that night, none of which had answers. Savithri is the only person who can answer these. But, I cannot ask her. Not only because it would upset her, but also because it would make me uncomfortable. I would rather let my brain be clogged with questions and confusions, than engage in an interrogatory pursuit.
As I was struggling with all these questions in my mind, the phone beeped. It was a whatsapp notification. I was in no mood for forward messages or group posts about celebrities. As I casually tried to snooze the notification, another beep and a message from Savithri popped on the screen. She said that, she badly needs two thousand rupees, for an urgent need and that I could deduct it from her salary next month. I stared blankly at the screen. How do I tell her that, there won’t be any transaction next month?
This story is inspired by the 100 day storytelling initiative by Your Story Bag. This is my story for day 26/100 of #2023TheStoriedWay
