FICTION

A LIE FOR AMMA

“Mami it’s going to rain” shouted Mallika as the mystique abode above her roared in her approval.

“Bring back the dried clothes from outside or else they are going to get wet”. This time my mom instructed her as she was busy preparing the after-noon tea. It was 5:00 pm.

“Ok Mami I’m bringing”

Soon the rain drops made their way to reach the mortal land, it wasn’t the safest place, they realized, and juxtaposition with the ethereal clouds made it feasible. This type of shower has become the part and parcel of people’s life in this part of the world; a hot day has to end with a replenishing shower.

Tea was served. I occupied the window seat on the oval dining table. Besides me my mom, my two sisters and Mallika occupied the rest of the chairs.

Mallika was our maid, a small girl, 11 years old probably. But she was not treated as a servant or so, rather she was considered among us. One may say its child labour but see her father; an illiterate pervert who was going on producing babies unless his wife gives birth to a boy, having already produced four daughters. Having spoilt his wife’s health he was left with no money to feed his daughters. Thus, Mallika was sent to us. The lean thin girl now transformed into a healthy girl...her dark skin began to glow owing to the time she spent at the dressing table doing permutation and combination to apply various beauty products available. None of my sisters ever scolded her...the reason probably she turned to be the eye candy for all of us. Be it her witty replies or the way she talks, everything got her more points than the daily T.V. soaps. My younger sister taught her the English alphabets, even to pronounce her name...her accent changed, from colloquial Bengali to fine Assamese. If one asked her what her name was, she would reply instantly in English to be precise, “My name is Mallika Sherawat” - the bollywood actress. Actually my younger sister incorporated her surname to her. So it seemed even she enjoyed staying with us.

As we all were sipping our hot cup of tea the door bell rang; as if with fury. My small sister rushed to open the door. Who could be at this point of time...I mean making his way in this rain. Must be someone whom Mallika knew; my sister called out her name as soon as she opened the door.

I was still absorbed with the droplets; the person who visited was none but Mallika’s father. We still were finishing our tea as both father and daughter chatted for a little while. Soon we all went to the drawing room where Mallika and her father were talking. It took only a while when he announced that Mallika would not be staying with us anymore. The reason when asked was that Mallika was beaten and tortured by us. Moreover her mom needed her at home.

My Amma, gave a look of surprise tinged with utter disapproval but she knew it was of no use to beat her brains out. Even my sisters were surprised, I was also included. How can one put a lame excuse? My mom didn’t say anything but my elder sister confronted Mallika, “Did we ever beat you or even slap you?” Without letting a sense of remorse to devote her face she nodded an affirmative.

A year’s trust slivered within a second. She was paid for her service to us; even though she didn’t pay back what we deserved. Well our family lamented not for the loss of a maid but for the loss of faith; a faith that was entrusted.

***

It’s 20th May 2011. Delhi University summer vacations just started. I’m waiting at the New Delhi Railway Station (NDLS). It was finally 2:30 am when I boarded the train with fears over burdened. I have a ticket but it was an E-ticket and it was on W/L- 2. An e-ticket with waiting list is considered to be without ticket as the money is refundable. So, basically I was considered to travel without a ticket but I was desperate to go home at any cost. I thought I would board the train and if the T.T.E. (Travellers’ Ticket Examiner) asks I’ll pay the fine; even brought the cash for fine. My summer vacation started from the 16th of this month. It’s not that I haven’t visited my home for years but I was eager to see my home, my Amma. Even though it was the third time in six months, I was still excited to go home.

My elder sister and her friends also boarded the same train as they were on their way home after their educational tour to Delhi. Luckily I managed to sit in between them. Finally, after fifteen minutes or so after the train departed the T.T.E. came. I occupied a seat which was supposed to be my sister’s friend; he was absent. He came near me for inspection purpose.

“Number 64”

“It’s me” I said firmly.

“Ticket”

“The ticket is with our teacher. He is in the next compartment”

“Ok! “

“Thank you Sir.”

I’m wondering what made me lie so spontaneously. Perhaps I was desperate to meet my mother at any cost...be it the shelter of a lie.

As I was still thinking deep; I remembered Mallika and her lie. Was her lie also for her Amma? May be...even though it was like home at Delhi but still I was missing the homely affairs there. My real home can never be replaced with anything. She was a small child...maybe she was also missing her home badly. A sense of remorse evoke in my heart as any kind of lie hurts me deeply. But I reminded myself, “It’s a lie for Amma”.

by Syed Wasbir Subhani
Image courtesy: Google

KNOW YOUR FRIEND FROM DU

Name: Syed Wasbir Subhani
Nick name: Aquazir
College: Ramjas College, University of Delhi
Course: Physics

Hobbies: Syed doesn't like to work. He likes to read novels and play some sport.
Interests: He loves writing and doing all chores that are forbidden to him.

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