Maids at Diwali time

So, here’s the thing. For those who are not of my nationality, we have a wonderful festival, “Diwali”, the festival of lights. Said festival is celebrated by people of the Hindu faith. However, now, even non-Hindu peeps (self included) celebrate it with the same aplomb. We also have Id, a festival celebrated by Muslims. Both these festivals are completely different with only one exception. During these festive times we do a lot of charity work and share our good fortune with the underprivileged, starting with the domestic help, our maid, car cleaner, postman, gas delivery guy and the like. This is one common aspect in both that I have always found particularly pleasant; seeing as normally humans are a very selfish race and spend most of their time on earth completely indifferent to each others’ needs and problems.

I love the atmosphere of joy, generosity and empathy emanating during these times. Even though I am not a religious being, I salute this tradition and whole-heartedly support it.

Yet, this year was a horrible let down.

Just as I always do every year, a couple of days before Diwali, I set out amounts for each of my service providers and began their distribution. I started with my maids. To both, I accorded equal amounts. With a lot of love in my heart, I handed over the token amounts to them. Only to receive a slap in the face!

I was asked why the bonus was not an entire month’s salary. I was unable to digest this information at first and spent a few seconds processing what was said to me. Bonus? What bonus? This was not a bonus. This was just a token of appreciation. When I finally was able to understand that Diwali amounts had now been misconstrued as bonuses, I asked why it was that last year, when I had given even less, both of them took it with thanks and not a word otherwise. I got no response for this, but I was told that I have to give a month’s salary. Have to. No request here, this was a DEMAND. This was not going at all as I had expected. (Now, just so you know, the amounts that I was giving, were actually a couple of hundred less than their paychecks. It was not as if I was giving them a paltry amount.) So, I rationally tried to explain that whatever is given at festival time is supposed to be a token of appreciation, and be it 50 bucks or 10000 should be accepted with thanks, as has been custom for hundreds of years and more. I expected the matter to be resolved there and then, but, that was not to be. I was then told that everyone else paid them a month’s salary as bonus and that I HAD TO do likewise. The, “HAD TO”, was almost a threat, like it was being followed by an unsaid, “OR ELSE.”

My little balloon of love slowly began to deflate. Again, I tried to futilely explain that this was a voluntary gesture; there was no hard and fast rule that it had to be done. It was only done by those who felt that they wanted to. This was not subject to conditions and rules. It was an unconditional and selfless act and should be treated as such. Here, again, I hoped in vain that what I was saying would get through to them. And again, I tried to get them to accept the money. I was almost pleading, begging in fact, for them not to make a mockery of what I held sacred in my eyes. But, this sadly, was not to be. I was told in no uncertain terms that it would be a month’s salary only. One maid blatantly even said, “God has given you people so much, you have to share this and give to others”; by others meaning her. Seriously? So now what? God has decided to bless you and make you his messenger, said message being conveyed to me through you? To this I say; my dear, dear, dear friend, you are but a mere mortal, just as I am, do not try to be anything else. This actually was the clincher.

That was it for me. I had just about had it with this line of discussion. So, I threw out an ultimatum of my own. My love balloon had begun to inflate again, only, this time it was being filled with anger. “This is the last time I am asking”, I said, “Do you want your money or not?” “Either you accept what is being given, or it’s done, and I take it back, and no one gets anything.” To this I got another NO! So, I took my money back and that was the end of that.

I need to stress here that this entire episode was completely disheartening. I did understand at that point of time that there were certain things my maids were looking forward to and that they had their calculations as I had mine.

Yet, I took a stand, because, if you really need something from me, there is a way to ask for it. A please usually helps. Asking nicely and politely helps too. One cannot throw non-existent rules and conditions in another’s face. That’s just stupid and an insult to intelligence. One definitely cannot come into another’s house and make demands and threaten them. This act is construed as extortion, bhaigiri, dadagiri, goondagardi (or in this case bahangiri, dadigiri and goondigardi). And one absolutely cannot expect to throw religion at another; as One has no business giving another lectures on how God would want them to live their life, because the way I see it, A) You are not God and B) Neither are you his messenger and C) Put a lid on it babes, your thoughts on this subject do not matter to me in the slightest! Whatever makes you think they do?

This is not the end, to make matters worse, a lot more happened after…

(TO BE CONTINUED…)

Shakespeare's Sonnets. Sonnet 3

Sonnet III

Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another;
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.
For where is she so fair whose unear'd womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or who is he so fond will be the tomb
Of his self-love, to stop posterity?
Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime:
So thou through windows of thine age shall see
Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.
But if thou live, remember'd not to be,
Die single, and thine image dies with thee.

The first 126 sonnets of Shakespeare are known as the “Fair Youth Sonnets.” Shakespeare has addressed all of these to a ‘fair youth’ and the bond and deep love of Shakespeare for this young man is apparent in all of them.

My understanding of Sonnet 3 - When you look in the mirror and you see yourself, remind yourself that the youthful looks that stare back at you will not remain. The only way in which you will be able to preserve any semblance of them will be by passing them on to your child.
So, stop being vain, you are not only denying yourself this happiness, you are also cheating some mother-to-be of the joys of motherhood as are you bilking the world too.
Your mother can look at you and proudly recall how beautiful she used to be when she was young. So, while you still can, make a child, who will carry on your legacy; and when you are old you can see your image in your off-spring, and relive and remember your youth, just as your mother does with you. But if you remain conceited and choose not to procreate, when you die, your image will die with you, and with it, a worthy, beautiful lineage will be lost to the world forever.

DAUGHTERS OF INDIA

Sheila has a good life. She is smart, has an average education and holds a secretarial job in a small time company. She is not a looker, not a success story, she is the average Indian girl who lives life taking one day at a time, looks forward to her weekends, where she can let her hair down, party a bit, watch a few movies, in effect do what any other girl her age would do. She likes to have fun, and is willing to work hard for it.



Sheila is dead.

She died within 2 days of birth. She had no say in the matter, did not even know what was happening. She never saw her first birthday, never had the chance to say her first words, walk her first steps, watch her first film, experience her first kiss, her first love, a lot of firsts lost and all the possibilities, good or bad, that life had to offer her, gone in a heartbeat. Two days is all the time she got.

On day 2 of her birth, Sheila gets up at 4 a.m. howling for her morning feed, because that’s what babies do. She is picked up; hugged tightly by her mother, nursed, put back to sleep. As she lays there, a content smile on her face, dreaming her little baby dreams, she is suddenly, roughly pulled off her small cradle and taken outside. All the time there is screaming and wailing heard… as if someone’s heart just broke into a thousand pieces. She is thrown face first into a pot of boiling hot milk. Since she is too small, (or at least that’s what they say), she does not feel much pain and mercifully dies instantaneously. Her father then takes her remains and dumps them into the nearby flowing river. All the time the wailing and screaming of the mother continues in the background. That is the end for young nameless Sheila as we know it.

It was her fault you see. She brought this on herself. What buisness did she have being born a girl in the first place? She had no right to bring this kind of sorrow to her family. The last thing they needed was a liability and she damn well knew it. She should have been more considerate towards her family’s needs. Serves her right, don’t you think? Who needs more of these kinds of insensitive people in the world?


Female feticide (termination of female babies within the womb, abortions) and female infanticide is an everyday occurrence in today’s world. Maybe what I mentioned as a way of killing is extremely cruel, some people kill using poison (I have heard of instances where poison from the Datura plant was used.), yet others just strangle them or cover their faces with a pillow and suffocate them.
We hail from the same country that worships goddesses like Lakshmi, Durga and Kali to name a few. There has to be a way in which we may be able to reach out and reduce this atrocity. I know that the people I am addressing are not my target; however, we are the people who can try to minimize this, one life at a time.

There is one more little thing I would like to bring to your notice though. It is not only the underprivilegeds who are doing this.

A cousin of mine, a social worker, informed me that surveys have shown that even the prosperous belts in the urban areas of our country reflect the same thing.

Areas with sonography/ ultrasound centers show many less female children than male.

Yes, I was as shocked as you are.

She also mentioned that the major reason for this was our dowry system.
We talk about being cultured, being civilized. Hah!

Reports also say that 50 million females are missing in Asia. The ratio is now approximately 700 girls to 1000 boys.

Feedback, good or bad, is also welcome since more opinions mean more thoughts and more ideas. And of course the most important factor behind any feedback I receive would mean that you have actually bothered to read this carefully and have spent a little time thinking about it as well, which is exactly what I set out to accomplish.


I leave you with a small poem I wrote.

Don’t kill me! Dad, Mom, stop! Please.
I am your daughter, your flesh and blood.
Give me a chance, believe in me.
I will do you proud.
I will try real hard,
Please, let me live.

I am not a feminist, nor do I want to be one.
I don’t even want equal rights.
I just want the right you had.
The basic right of all mankind.
The right to live.

I want to be a daughter, a sister, a wife, a mother.
I want to experience your love and share in your laughter.
I want to be a woman.
I want to know your world.
I want to live.

I know my fate rests in your hands,
I know you cannot hear me.
But I still can’t help calling out to you;
You are the only two people who can save me.

Please, Mom, Dad! Stop! Don’t kill me!
It’s because of you that I have come to be.

By,
Shaheen Bootwalla.