The article that was not to be

I woke up in the morning, quite excited, full of beans! I was, of course, thrilled about undertaking my first true assignment – I was to visit the dwelling of my mausi’s housemaid in Delhi and to write my first ever article on a ‘hard-hitting true story’. A perfect script! It’s not like I am some journo or a freelancer or anything of that sort nor am I studying in that direction- I wanted to do it to get a feel of these sorts of things you see. For self-satisfaction or some similar philosophical thing which I am at a loss of words to explain but you do understand, don’t you? I obviously knew I would find the plight of the slum dwellers’ shocking and sorrowful: you know what I mean- all masala type things for the perfect article, things which overwhelm you with emotions! And when I did end my venture: shocked I was, but sorrowful I was not.

Chandrika, my mausi’s housemaid arrived around 8.30 in the morning. I had been able to convince her to turn up in the morning and take me to her home even though it was her off-day! I very well remember the expression on her face when I had mentioned my desire to see her home. Her face had lit up and I could read her mind -she exclaimed, “What an honour for me!!!” You know how important one feels in such instances! But the next moment she asked “Koi kahaani likhni hai kya?” And something like a “Tchah!” left my mouth! Someone else had also been to her house for the same reason? Now that belittled my idea and concept! Nevertheless, I decided to go forward with my little idea. After all, it’s the way the web of words is spun that creates the magic…

Her house was right at the heart of a small village (actually in the slums), which is some 4 km away from my mausi’s residence. The walk to her house was quite tiring for me ( not a great walker I am!) and I had already started feeling the heat. When she informed me that we had entered the village, well, I thought she must be joking because the houses were actually not small- and were pucca buildings. Must be, I thought, those of the landlords (though I knew you won’t generally find the typical village landlord in cities) or probably belonged to some contractors and small business men. Fancied images of Chandrika’s hut were still floating through my mind when she finally stopped in front of a shabby looking house. Yes, it was shabby but it was a pucca house! Now, that did not suit my scheme – I was expecting a thatched roof and mud walls! I was a bit disappointed but I consoled myself. I was, of course, oblivious to the shock that awaited me inside the hut if I can dare to call it so. The hut was even larger than it looked from outside.

The hut actually had two rooms plus a small kitchen and a lavatory- definitely not a small place to live in. Though the things were placed quite haphazardly and no great decorations adorned the walls, but the list of items in the room is quite long- a 21 inch colour TV, a refrigerator and (you can well imagine the colour of my face fading when I saw the next thing) a washing machine!!! “Yeh sab toh aaj kal ki zarooratein hain! Kharidne pade…” Chandrika explained.

Looking everywhere, I determinedly searched for the khatia with a sick mother lying on it, a very common scene in Hindi films that I was very confident of seeing with my own eyes! But alas, not even that! Chandrika’s mother was quite a healthy woman – what a sorrowful thing! She came out and greeted me with a hug. I was not able to reciprocate the warmth she showered on me because I had always wanted her to be a sick woman- really, circumstances can destroy even the most halcyon and philanthropic of souls, Samaritans like me! There was more to come. I have watched lots of Hindi movies that showcase village life and the plight of the villagers. If the mother wasn’t sick, the brother must be. Or somebody bed-ridden! And the family always needed money ‘unke ilaaj ke liye’ (for his/her treatment). Even on this point, Chandrika’s family disappointed me. Chandrika didn’t have a polio-ridden brother, not even a widowed sister-in-law. My hopes of writing a heart-touching article were vanishing into thin air. And when Chandrika declared that her husband worked as an auto-driver (and informed me on asking that he didn’t drink much and never beat her), my disappointment must have shown on my face. I hope you can understand my agony if I tell you that I almost felt like slapping Chandrika on her face but I actually felt worse. My head was reeling.

When Chandrika enthusiastically introduced me to the other members of her family- her 2 daughters (happily married and here with her for some puja), her son (studying in the 8th grade) and her sister-in-law(in a red saree and looking pretty and happy), I could take it no more. How much more can a nineteen-year-old take? They were all, I imagine, sardonically looking at me- mocking at me! I just rushed out of the house without waiting for the pleasantries to get over. My article on “the substandard conditions our housemaids live in” ended even before it had begun. A disappointing outing…

The next day Chandrika invited me to have dinner with them. I recoiled at the idea. I could well imagine what might happen if I did go. I would probably be served delicious Chole-bhature, which would turn into ashes in my mouth because that would be the last nail in the coffin of the perfect article, this could have been…