by Laki Khan
The next morning I began by collecting water for the bathrooms. I knew this task would take a while and wanted to complete it while Ammu and Omar were sleeping. Firstly I collected the kholosh, which was larger and heavier than I was accustomed to. I struggled to lift the weight at first and I staggered, balancing it upon my hip. I managed to complete two rounds of the task, filling up the large empty water drums in the bathrooms. With a deep sigh I attempted to carry the water a third time, struggling to walk against the weight of it, and stumbled. I fell to the floor and the water spilled all through the courtyard and all over me. Omar immediately ran out to the sound of my shrieks and pulled me up swiftly. ‘Saira, what happened? Are you okay?’ he asked, glancing at the water all over the courtyard and me as I stood there, soaking wet. I began to dry myself with the towel that he now handed me. Feeling embarrassed, I explained I was collecting water for the day. ‘I hope you haven’t hurt yourself too badly,’ he said, looking concerned.
I looked down at my grazed elbows and replied, ‘I’m okay, thank you,’ and walked inside, drenched.
Slightly hurt and with pain shooting through my lower back I entered the kitchen. I imagined the difficulty I would have trying to conceal this from Ammu today. I prepared breakfast quickly as I knew Omar left the house very early in the mornings. I then knocked on his door, and he followed me out into the kitchen. ‘Your tea is ready,’ I told him as he sat at the table.
‘Where’s Ammu, is she all right?’ he asked, looking round the kitchen.
‘Yes, she’s much better, thank you,’ I said, almost spilling the hot tea as I winced from the pain in my lower back.
‘Saira, sit down, you must have injured yourself earlier,’ he said pulling out a chair for me.
I inhaled a deep breath and politely replied, ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ and continued serving him breakfast. I felt literally useless; Ammu was unwell and here I was unable to complete one task successfully. I worried Omar may rethink his decision about employing us as maids, leaving us both stranded once again which would tear us apart, especially Ammu.
She appeared fast asleep so I crept back out of the room and began to collect the pots and utensils for washing and cleaning and headed to the pond. ‘Saira, I will be out for most of the day,’ Omar informed me. He was dressed smartly, sporting a light blue shirt with some casual jeans.
I nodded and then asked him, ‘What chores should I complete today?’
‘Saira, I trust you to take that responsibility,’ he said and smiled. ‘Before I forget, I have asked Abdullah to collect the water for the bathrooms every morning,’ he added.
I was shocked. ‘I can manage,’ I protested.
‘I have no doubt that you will manage, but I have asked him anyway and he has agreed,’ he said firmly. ‘By the way, if you need anything in my absence then Abdullah will look after you,’ he said. I looked at him and nodded in submission. Omar’s kind nature overwhelmed me, almost dispelling the panic and fear I harboured within. Abdullah was sweet Layla’s husband who I had met only yesterday. He took care of maintaining Omar’s land and harvested the crops as well as carrying out maintenance work around the house, and from the little I had observed he worked extremely hard and had immense respect for Omar.
Chapter 9 – Ray of Hope
I began to walk along the concrete path leading up to the big pond. Although it was hot, there was a distinct coolness in the morning air promoting a calm state of mindfulness. I indulged in the captivating sight of the birds and the ducks dawdling across the muddy ground pecking at seeds. I waved at Layla who was sitting out near our front courtyard with beautiful Khadijah. Passing the neighbouring houses I smiled and greeted the maid who again appeared to be dusting the metal gates near the entrance of the large property. I felt at ease, as if this walk to the pond had become cathartic, or was it that I was gradually discovering more similarities between this village and mine. Just then my eyes turned to the sound of splashing water. Children had gathered with a large branch of a banana tree, holding on to it with their arms whilst kicking their legs in a rhythmic beat. This was the technique used to teach young children to swim, and the monsoon rain provided ample opportunity. I smiled at this welcome sight, something I had almost forgotten how to do, and remembered my Abbuji teaching me to swim in this exact manner as Ammu stood by shouting out words of encouragement. Feeling joyful I felt a splash of water tickle my face over my hijab.
‘Sorry, Apa,’ said the little angel who was busy splashing water all over his baby sister, making her giggle.
‘You guys are having fun,’ I said, touching his cheerful face.
‘Would you like to play?’ he asked. I smiled and walked into the water up to my knees and began splashing the children as they laughed and splashed back, making me remember the children I used to teach. My eyes filled at the thought of Sumayah; I wondered how she was and if she had ever gone to sit beside our stream to think about me, even once. I thought about her for a while and how we used to be. I looked on as another lady smiled at me whilst she washed her pots and pans, which reminded me that I had placed mine on the side.
Upon my return I checked in on Ammu, who was sitting up, awake. ‘How are you feeling?’ I smiled at her.
‘I’m fine. What time have you been up since?’ she questioned as I began to tell her about the children I had just met. ‘Are you comfortable here?’ Ammu asked me, holding my hand. Unable to make eye contact with her I explained how lovely and serene this village was and how friendly its residents were. She continued to stare at me and I knew that she did not believe a single word I had uttered. I then applied some more of Omar’s pain-relief ointment to Ammu’s leg. My plan was to find treatment for Ammu’s arthritis as soon as I was able to afford it. Lost in thought I didn’t realise that Ammu had continued to stare at me as I began yawning and rubbing my exhausted eyes. She placed her hand on my shoulder and said, ‘You look tired. You spend the whole day working in this house and you look after me. I’m sorry, dear.’ She began to cry and this was one of the things that tore apart my heart.
‘No! You have no reason to apologise, and I enjoy working in this house,’ I said firmly, attempting to convince her. I sat her up and served her breakfast. ‘Ammu, would you like to sit in the kitchen today? The sunshine is lovely this morning.’ She agreed.
Omar had handed me the responsibility for this house and I wanted to fulfil his trust reverently. I began by sweeping the rooms at the front, followed by the patio and then the open veranda. I disliked the dust flying into my hair and hijab so tried to sweep as fast as I could. Just as I was placing the large broom back into its place, I heard a deep female voice.
‘Is anyone home?’ My heart began somersaulting at once and I trembled as I walked backwards into the hallway. ‘Is anyone home?’ I heard again and began to perspire at the mere thought that Hamid and Amma may have discovered my whereabouts. I stood, shell-shocked, and heard the voice calling out a third time. ‘Omar, Omar, son, are you home?’ Relieved, I peeped through the cracks in the door to take a closer look, and sighed at the sight of an elderly lady, who was very short and walking with the support of a stick. I wondered if perhaps she was a relative of Omar’s, in which case I should attend to her.
Hesitantly I walked over and with chattering teeth said, ‘Can I help you?’ She carried a large sack beside her and was dressed in a beige-coloured tatty sari.
‘Is Omar home?’ she enquired, looking around and peering into the house.
‘I’m afraid he’s not. Can I help at all?’ I replied politely.
‘When will he be back?’ she asked, dejected.
‘Not till later. Are you a relative?’ I enquired.
‘No, I am not,’ she replied sadly and began to walk away. I immediately thought about the people that used to come to our house back in Jahed Pur begging for food, shelter, clothes and even monetary support. Ammu and I used to donate large pots of rice, money and clothing to them on a regular basis. I knew that some people had no
other option but to resort to begging from house to house just as a means of survival.
‘Please, wait. Would you like to come inside?’ I said. I invited her inside, assisting her to sit down.
She appeared very delicate and frail. I offered her some water to drink along with some papaya which she devoured very quickly. She then took my hand and kissed it saying, ‘Thank you.’ I smiled at her lovingly and embraced her frail shoulders.
‘Dear, will you let Omar know I came by?’ she asked.
‘Of course I will,’ I replied. She then told to me that she visited Omar on Wednesdays and that he gave her a large bag of rice and some money to take back with her; hence the sack she carried. She explained she had a physically disabled husband and two children, and no source of income. In order to survive she walked from her nearby village to the much wealthier residences to collect rice, money, clothing and whatever other donations people provided her with, and those donations were what she supported her family with. She explained that Omar knew of her hardship hence asked her to come by every Wednesday to collect rice and money. I fully empathised with this lady’s heartbreaking circumstances and I continued to thank God for watching over and blessing me and my mother. I was thankful that at least we did not have to beg from village to village like this poor soul. I was grateful that at least we had a roof over our heads and basic amenities for survival such as food and water. I took the lady’s sack and filled it as much as I could with rice before returning it to her, and watched as her face lit up with joy like a dark night filled with stars sparkling brightly up in the sky. Her joy and happiness were contagious, making me feel happy too.
She put the sack over her shoulder and looked at me with gratitude, saying, ‘Thank you, and I will pray for you and Omar, may God bless you, dear.’ I stood and watched her disappear along the path leading out of the village. I sat on the patio in reflection. Despite being wealthy, Omar really was a generous man – an unsung hero of good deeds it seemed. Although he appeared honest and humble, there was a deep untold mystery about him, something that the eye was unable to see; a mystery yet to be uncovered. Many questions posed in my mind, such as why he lived alone in this great big house and where his family members were. Even though he gave away very little about himself, everyone he was acquainted with only spoke good of him. I brought my attention back to the chores and decided to dust the furniture as the cobwebs were becoming visible, making the house look untidy and unkempt. Even the furniture in the house was grand, which made little sense as Omar appeared to be a very simple man who lived a life that was far from luxurious.
The sun was shining intensely and my hijab stuck to the sweltering sweat beads across my forehead. I looked at my reflection in one of the mirrors in the large front room. My cheeks were bright red due to heat and fatigue; my rose-red cheeks and milky complexion had disappeared. My lips were dry and parched and I looked down at my dirty feet and dust-covered kaftan; what a sight I was. My forehead was creased, and my face showed tension and worry and sunken cheeks enveloped within a sweaty hijab. I sighed, wondering whether or not this was just the mundane life of a maid, and if this was now going to be my future. I walked into the kitchen feeling parched and sat down on the cool tiles for a moment.
‘I wish I could help you with the work, Saira,’ said Ammu with sadness in her voice. In my haste I had left Ammu sitting in the chair for goodness knew how long.
‘Ammu, I am so sorry, I forgot I had left you sitting here,’ I blurted out. Although she did not admit to it, I knew she was in pain, so I took her back to our room. Despite her resistance I served her lunch and encouraged her to rest, feeling angry at myself for neglecting her; how could I just leave her sitting in that heat? I reminded myself that Ammu was my first and foremost priority followed by the responsibility for this house. I knew that regret knew best those who had neglected their parents, and I did not want to be one of those, so I renewed my commitment to put my mother first and foremost above all.
It was nearly afternoon and I made a start on preparing dinner as Omar would soon be back. With a rag and some soapy water I scrubbed the entire kitchen floor, admiring the shine from the tiles. I then cleaned the stove before taking a much-needed rest spending some time on the front patio. I sat admiring the village scenery, and watched Layla collecting small branches and sticks. I presumed she wanted to use them as firewood while she cooked for her husband Abdullah and their daughter. I watched another lady chasing the cockerels into their bed for the night. The men were returning home from the fields along with their exhausted cattle that needed to be washed, fed and settled for the night into their mud sleep huts. This wonderful image refreshed my memories of my beloved home, allowing me to cherish them wholeheartedly. This was followed by the beautiful call to prayer which magnified the beauty of twilight a little more; it was melodious and peaceful, and at once replaced the anxiety that had been looming over me the entire day with an inner peace.
Just then I heard Omar entering the house. I greeted him and handed him a jug of warm water to wash himself with. I presumed he would be hungry so began to serve dinner.
Minutes later he walked back into the kitchen holding Ammu by her hand. ‘Slowly, Ammu,’ he instructed. I stared, astonished at how he seemed to have a way with her and somehow always managed to make her smile with his kindness and eloquently spoken words.
‘I don’t want to trouble you, dear, you have just returned, you must be tired,’ Ammu said, looking at Omar.
He laughed and said, ‘You are no trouble. Saira, we are ready for dinner.’
‘Sure,’ I replied and began serving them both. I watched as they ate and conversed over dinner; it brought me an unimaginable joy to witness Ammu smiling, and I was grateful to Omar for this. I listened attentively as he spoke, informing us that he had spent the entire day at a village close to this one where he had built a well for the less wealthy villagers, and from today it was in full working order. He spoke about the joy he had witnessed on their faces upon receiving clean water to drink. He talked about how thankful the women had been that they did not need to carry water for long distances just for the purpose of cooking and cleaning. I wondered if that had been the reason for his visit to Bangladesh; however, I was unable to muster the courage to ask him. Ammu praised him relentlessly for his wonderful act of charity as he smiled while his eyes twinkled coyly.
I cleared up after dinner, whilst Omar escorted Ammu back to her room. That night I lay wide awake in contemplation of how I desperately wanted to see her happy again and ironically she seemed to be happy around Omar. The next few days passed in the mundane tasks of completing chores around the house. Omar would leave early in the morning and return late in the evening. Every day he would return before dinner, and insist that Ammu join us and the three of us would dine together. Ammu and I both enjoyed listening to stories about his day. One incident in particular tugged at the strings of my heart. He talked about the time that he had visited a very remote village on the outskirts of the famous Sylhet tea gardens; the villagers there struggled with a lack of clean water and consequently the village children were made to walk two kilometres a day carrying water on their backs to the village and its people. He described the immeasurable joy on the faces of those children when he revisited the new well, and I sat conjuring this wonderful image in my mind. That evening I truly smiled and felt a sense of contentment after what had seemed to be an infinity filled with overwhelming sadness. Most importantly, I felt happy that there were still people like Omar who had not only taken us in, but chose to treat us with respect and integrity as opposed to maids at the disposal of his wealth and luxury.
I woke early the next morning to the gentle sound of Omar’s footsteps and figured he would be heading out early as he always did, so I made a start on his breakfast. Abdullah would collect the water for the bathrooms, hence that was one chore less for me to contend with. It was a cool morning, although the sun was attempting to break through, making way for another bright s
unny day. I liked the sun; it brought happiness, hope and a feeling of contentment as its infinite beauty nurtured much-loved memories I held close to my heart.
‘Good morning, Saira.’ I heard Omar’s sincere voice as he walked into the kitchen.
‘Morning,’ I replied, placing my hijab neatly over my tangled hair. He was dressed casual smart as he did most days, and appeared ready to leave. I stumbled across the kitchen, almost falling as I hurriedly attempted to serve him breakfast.
‘Careful, Saira,’ he warned, standing up in case I needed rescuing from my own clumsiness. ‘Is Ammu sleeping?’ he asked.
‘Yes, she is,’ I replied.
‘Did you sleep well?’ he enquired.
‘Yes, thanks,’ I responded timidly. I looked down at my dust-covered kaftan; what a sight I must be. I decided to put cleaning myself and tidying my appearance right at the top of my priority list for the day. ‘Is there anything that you need attending to today?’ I asked while my elbow knocked over the bowl of tomatoes I had placed at the edge of the table, which I had planned to turn into a salad for later. Only now the tomatoes were rolling around in many directions across the kitchen tiles, most of them squashed. ‘Oh my,’ I gasped, on my knees as I began to collect them one by one.
‘It’s okay, Saira, I’ll pick them up,’ he said.
‘They’re all ruined,’ I said, frustrated.
‘We can get some more,’ he replied as he collected them one by one, carefully placing them back into the bowl and then handing it to me.
‘Thank you,’ I replied, annoyed with my clumsiness. ‘You didn’t answer my question before I knocked over the tomatoes,’ I repeated before he left for the day.