Three Thousand Stitches Read online

‘“Yes, I write letters and hand them over to my agent, but I don’t know whether it reaches them. I haven’t received even one reply yet. I only get to hear what the agent tells me about my family. I know that they have tried to call me here on the phone, but there are strict instructions against that according to the rules of this house. Madam doesn’t want her staff to take personal calls on her landlines. Moreover, I know that it isn’t easy for them to call me here, and I don’t want to share my difficulties with them. I hear that a lump sum amount is sent to them every six months. But once I get my ticket, I will go back and never come back here.”

  ‘I was slightly relieved to hear that her family was getting some money. “Aren’t they supposed to send the money every month?” I asked.

  ‘“The agents are much smarter than us. They keep a salary backlog of at least six months. If I go back to my country and don’t return, then they will keep that money. So many people come back for their money and the cycle continues. To someone in our financial position, a six-month salary is a big amount to walk away from.”

  ‘“When are you planning to go home?”

  ‘“It depends on the owners. Sometimes, they send the workers home after fifteen months or sometimes after two years. I don’t know when they will decide to send me back. I can understand their language now but still pretend not to. I have learnt that Madam is going to India to enjoy the monsoon in Kerala. Since I am from the state and know the local language, she wants me to go with her and look after the children. I will ask her then to allow me to visit my family for a few days and if she does, I won’t come back. I have reached a point where I don’t even care about the money,” said Santosh firmly.

  ‘I could not sleep that night. Had I been duped by the agent? How much money will my family really get? With not many options at my disposal, I decided that the best way forward was to keep a low profile and continue working.

  ‘For the first few weeks, things seemed okay. The staff was usually given leftover food, which was good and I didn’t have any complaints related to work. After some time had passed, I started getting extra chores, especially around the time Madam was leaving for a vacation to India. Santosh was going to go with them too and I knew that she wouldn’t come back. So I wrote letters to my family and requested her to mail them from India.

  ‘Once Santosh and the family left the country, the house manager instructed me to take on all of Santosh’s work as well. Since the owner always entertained guests in his big mansion, there was a lot of cooking and cleaning to be done. There were a total of fourteen children in the house and each child would also frequently bring his or her friends over. I felt trapped––like a bird in a cage. Since the work more than doubled, my efficiency reduced and the house manager became upset and refused to listen to my concerns. She would show me a stick and say, “Don’t complain about your work. You are being paid for it. I don’t want to hear another word.”

  ‘When the unending workload became unbearable during the day, I would sit down and rest for a few minutes. If the house manager found me resting, she would beat me with that same stick. That’s when I recalled the marks on Santosh’s hand and realized how she had got them. Nobody ever beat me in my home. Though we were poor, we lived with dignity.

  ‘The loneliness and the excess work soon began affecting my health and my ability to work. I longed for my family, my children and my friends. As the days went by, there was nothing but sadness left in my soul.’

  I interjected, ‘With whom did you share your troubles with, now that Santosh was gone?’

  ‘Nobody,’ said Nazneem. ‘There was a male gardener who would visit and tend to the lawn and plants outside the house, but I could not speak to him according to the country’s rules. I couldn’t go out as I only had three nightdresses that I wore day and night. I was not allowed to wear the clothes that I had brought with me. I was only allowed to go shopping with the family, and even then, I had to wear a burka on top of my clothes. So I had no friends or acquaintances to speak to.

  ‘Soon, Madam came back from India, upset and furious. She said to the house manager, “Start keeping a close eye on these Indian women. Santosh never came back after she went home. She cheated me. So for now, don’t allow this woman to go home any time soon.”

  ‘These words dampened my spirit and I cried in the shadows, wondering when I would see my family again.

  ‘One morning, I overheard a conversation between Madam and the house manager. “Whatever you say, Indian women are the best for household work,” she told the manager. “They do their jobs quietly, don’t answer back or complain too much.”

  ‘The house manager said something unintelligible.

  ‘“Recruit two more,” she instructed.

  ‘While I hated the thought of somebody else going through what I had endured, I was at the end of my rope and hoped that this would reduce my workload in the course of time.

  ‘Weeks later, I was down with high fever.’

  ‘Did you go the doctor?’ I couldn’t contain myself.

  ‘No, the house manager gave me Crocin. We were never taken to the doctor for any reason whatsoever. I had to work despite the fever. A day later, it went up further and I was afraid that my body would give up. Desperate, I approached the manager and asked her to take me to the nearest doctor or hospital.

  ‘She was blunt, “We have multiple house guests today and I really don’t have the time.”

  ‘I almost broke down. “I can’t work today,” I said tearfully. “I am in pain and there’s a constant throbbing in my head.”

  ‘Nonchalantly, she heated up a spoon on the kitchen fire, caught my hand and pressed the hot spoon on my wrist.

  ‘I screamed and she shushed me. “Don’t scream. Nobody will come to help you. You are a servant and must behave like one. Go and start working now,” she said, her volume matching mine.

  ‘My body started trembling with fear. Was this going to be my fate till I die?

  ‘I don’t remember the days ahead with clarity, but the fever came down and my body, at least, felt a little better. But I was dead inside. I had no incentive to wake up in the mornings, but I had no choice. I lived like a robot. When I had time to think, I only thought about returning home to my family.

  ‘One rare day, when there was nobody at home but me, the gardener, Maruti, requested me for a cup of tea. I wore the burka and went to the backyard to give it to him.

  ‘“Please help me get home,” I told him as soon as he started sipping the tea. “I don’t know anyone here and you know how they treat the helps in this house. My family wouldn’t even get to know if something happened to me here. You are like my brother. Please, can you lend me a hand?”

  ‘“Don’t even think of running away,” he said. I could see that he was afraid. “If the authorities trace you and bring you back, you will suffer unspeakable cruelty. Still, I will try and speak to a few people I know. I will get back to you.”

  ‘I touched his feet. It was as if Allah had come to help me through this kind man.

  ‘A month passed before Maruti approached me at a time when we were alone again. It was Eid, a religious holiday, and the family had gone out for the evening. “I met two kind women at an Indian function. I think they may be able to help you,” he said.

  ‘“I am so grateful to you. How did you meet them?”

  ‘“The owner once asked me to deliver some flowers to a government official who was attending an Indian wedding ceremony. At the wedding, I was told to wait and that’s when I heard about these two women from others. I somehow managed to see them. Since I am a man and free to move about in this country, I was able to meet them a few more times. I told them about your difficulties here. They have told me to inform you that it is risky to leave your work here, but if you decide to do so and go to them, then they will also share the risk with you and try their best to send you back home. I can take you to them. But do it when you go shopping as it will be easier to escape from there.”

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