Da 'maa' : The stranger who loved me for over 2 decades
It's Diwali!!
My neighborhood and in fact every neighborhood in India is consumed in the festivities. The wives and mothers busy in the kitchen preparing the food that would be eaten by the family in a plate served fresh, unlike the usually packed lunch boxes. The fathers promising their kids that they would buy firecrackers enough to make the whole street jealous. The kids who can't wait until the night falls smuggled a few crackers and rushed out with their friends before the adults get hold of their crime. I was no exception in being equally ecstatic. I was rushing to the cellar (parking space of apartments) to see the kids play and then I saw her. She initially argued quite strongly but slowly started struggling to get the words out, especially after the person standing opposite to her said, 'you are just a maid. Know your limits'. I broke into tears.
She always looked at me as if I am her most valuable possession. She always held me with utmost caution. She spoke to me with such love. Her hugs expressed her love far more than any number of words put together. She never retired when it comes to protecting me. While my mother was away most of the day working to provide for me and my sister financially, Damaa took the role of the mother we craved for.
The pages of my childhood are incomplete without the mention of Damaa. My mother says I am kind and I inherited it from my grandad. While I highly respect my grandad and without question believe that he is one of the kindest souls ever walked this earth, I hardly spent time around him as he passed away when I was too young to be influenced. But Damaa was always around reminding me of how close we are yet how many differences we have as we hail from 2 very different classes of society.
It is true that childhood plays a vital role in shaping you as an adult. The way Damaa cared for me more than she did for her own children made me believe that human connections go beyond any worldly pleasures. Flashes of her in my mind while I type this of applying turmeric or a bandaid to various injuries that I came home with, sometimes its the biking skills that betrayed me and other times a sport that bled me. The salary she was paid for being my caretaker/caregiver had nothing to do with her performance. There was no career path laid for her and yet she never ceased to do the best she can.
After adulting just a bit, I often used to fix myself a cup of coffee after coming home from college. I remember Damaa asking if I can add a little more milk so that we can share. I still remember how after a day longs work her tired face being lit with the cup I handed over to her. Can I call that the benefits of her job or should I be grateful that am I fortunate enough to serve my second 'maa'?
'Damaa passed away in 2015. I was not aware of the news until I visited India as my parents didn't want to break the news while I was half a world away. Until today, I regret not able to see her one last time before she bid goodbye to me forever'
My neighborhood and in fact every neighborhood in India is consumed in the festivities. The wives and mothers busy in the kitchen preparing the food that would be eaten by the family in a plate served fresh, unlike the usually packed lunch boxes. The fathers promising their kids that they would buy firecrackers enough to make the whole street jealous. The kids who can't wait until the night falls smuggled a few crackers and rushed out with their friends before the adults get hold of their crime. I was no exception in being equally ecstatic. I was rushing to the cellar (parking space of apartments) to see the kids play and then I saw her. She initially argued quite strongly but slowly started struggling to get the words out, especially after the person standing opposite to her said, 'you are just a maid. Know your limits'. I broke into tears.
She always looked at me as if I am her most valuable possession. She always held me with utmost caution. She spoke to me with such love. Her hugs expressed her love far more than any number of words put together. She never retired when it comes to protecting me. While my mother was away most of the day working to provide for me and my sister financially, Damaa took the role of the mother we craved for.
The pages of my childhood are incomplete without the mention of Damaa. My mother says I am kind and I inherited it from my grandad. While I highly respect my grandad and without question believe that he is one of the kindest souls ever walked this earth, I hardly spent time around him as he passed away when I was too young to be influenced. But Damaa was always around reminding me of how close we are yet how many differences we have as we hail from 2 very different classes of society.
It is true that childhood plays a vital role in shaping you as an adult. The way Damaa cared for me more than she did for her own children made me believe that human connections go beyond any worldly pleasures. Flashes of her in my mind while I type this of applying turmeric or a bandaid to various injuries that I came home with, sometimes its the biking skills that betrayed me and other times a sport that bled me. The salary she was paid for being my caretaker/caregiver had nothing to do with her performance. There was no career path laid for her and yet she never ceased to do the best she can.
After adulting just a bit, I often used to fix myself a cup of coffee after coming home from college. I remember Damaa asking if I can add a little more milk so that we can share. I still remember how after a day longs work her tired face being lit with the cup I handed over to her. Can I call that the benefits of her job or should I be grateful that am I fortunate enough to serve my second 'maa'?
'Damaa passed away in 2015. I was not aware of the news until I visited India as my parents didn't want to break the news while I was half a world away. Until today, I regret not able to see her one last time before she bid goodbye to me forever'
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