Maid.

She had a tea tray in her hands as she entered the drawing room, head bowed in abject humility. She was short and extremely slim; with soft rounded features and a very fair complexion. The old lady looked at her with maternal warmth – “There is some of yesterday’s bread left in the cupboard. Have it with your tea, dear.”

“Yes Ma’am”, she said softly as she finished serving tea.

Back in the kitchen, she poured out some milk into a saucer and placed it next to the kitchen door. That was for Crone - her old feline sleep-mate - her only friend in this strange land. She truly believed the huge cat with wicked green eyes to be older than even her mistress. The cat spent most of her time with her mistress, but at night she always came back to the kitchen to sleep with her. This act of loyalty had earned old Crone a special place in her heart.

Having laid out the milk for the cat, it was now time to grab her own breakfast, before embarking on her daily chores. She took out a few slices of bread and a packet of biscuits that she had secretly retained the last time her mistress had given her the keys to the store. She was but a child, hardly sixteen, and at times, temptation got the better of her.

Sometimes the old lady caught on; as she had the last time. She still remembered her mistress’s severe tone –“I know that there were a dozen apples last time I saw them, and now you show me only six”. In the midst of her tears, she had pleaded that she did not know where the remaining apples were. In Dubai, fresh fruits were at a premium. Back home, things were different. She remembered how her brother used to bring her apples cadged from the orchard, almost everyday. He knew how much she loved apples.

However, in Dubai, the costly apples were way out of her reach. The old lady had made her point. She knew exactly what had happened to those six apples, but chose not to press the matter. Perhaps she felt sorry for the motherless little girl; or perhaps her years in Dubai had taught her that domestic servants were not easy to find. She had been lucky to have found this little girl in her visit to Kashmir last year. Life had been a lot easier for the lonely lady ever since.

“Have you finished your tea, dear?” the old lady’s voice floated in. Hurriedly replacing the biscuits in its hiding place, she gulped down the tea – “Coming Ma’am”. But the old lady was already at the kitchen door.

“Oh, do not bother. I just wanted to tell you that my son- the younger one - is coming home tomorrow. He works in America, you see. Here – take these keys and clean up that room over there. It must have been years since I last had that room opened.”

She watched the old lady trudge back to her room at the other end. “So that is the reason for her cloying sweetness and generosity today”, she thought dryly. She was accustomed to the vagaries in the demeanor of her mistress. She had come to understand that honey-sweet words from her mistress generally meant that there was some extra work to be done, or that some guests were to arrive. The sad part was that she still hoped that someday the kindness would be out of genuine concern.

As she got down to cleaning the room, she could not help thinking how big the house was for a lone old lady. She was the only servant who lived-in; the rest finished their chores during the daytime and left. The locked rooms probably belonged to the sons. None of them had turned up in the last one year of her service. She wondered how difficult it must be for the old lady to live all by herself; in perpetual separation from her children. This turned her thoughts to her own father and brother.

She had lost her mother very early in her childhood and was not sure if the memories she had of her mother were real or imagined. She had never been away from home, and it had been hard for her to leave her family behind. But the money was important. She was fast approaching the marriageable age. Her father had reckoned that if she earned some money before her marriage, it would be easy for her to set up her new home.

With the handsome salary that the old lady had offered, a year’s worth of effort was all she needed to make a substantial saving. “Only for a year, Ma’am; no more”, he had struck a deal with the lady. And now the year was coming to an end. She would soon be on her way back home. She had saved more than what she had hoped to. It would have taken her a decade to earn that much in her small village.

 She hurried back to the kitchen, gripped by a puerile desire to count her savings once more. She pulled out her belongings and took all the cash out of her little bag. They were all there – all of her savings! The sight was so reassuring. However just as she was about to keep it all back, she realized that something was missing. Her passport was not there amongst the cash. It was gone.

To be continued in part 2 …