THE sun rose in the east, in its splendid golden hue – a new day born, the perpetuality of life.

A soft voice hummed words of devotion as she poured water over the Shiva Lingam in her garden. It was a ritual for her early every morning to offer prayers to the Supreme Being she worshipped, before she left for work.

“Mama,” a sweet little voice broke into her prayers. It was her son, Arun, standing just behind her in his Pokemon pyjamas, his hair tousled from sleep.

“Yes sweetie?” she answered him adoringly and lifted him up so he could offer a little prayer to Lord Shiva.

He was the one precious thing in her life that gave her the strength to walk the rough, thorny paths fate had designed for her, the poor girl she was.

“No market today, mama?” he asked, holding her face lovingly.

“No,” she said and kissed his little hands, “It’s Sunday, the day I spend with you.”

“Yay!” he laughed gleefully.

She had a small food business at a market on the West Coast that was her income, having come a long way from housekeeping, home care and a cook to owning her own little business. It was something she had worked long, tiring hours to build for herself, unsure if help would ever come from her baby’s father.

She had been four months pregnant when life at home with an unsupportive mother and evil step-father made her feel unsafe and forced her to leave; she sought refuge at a help and shelter far away. After staying there for a while, she had left and worked as a live-in cook, so she could earn enough to rent a comfortable little place before her baby arrived.

In her sixth month of pregnancy, a kind old woman from the mandir she attended reached out a helping hand that gave Shanti’s life a better form of stability. The comfort of a furnished bottom flat and a job at the lady’s snackette was like a blessing for her and close to two years later when the old lady migrated, she was given the opportunity to buy the snackette with a small loan.

“One day, hopefully, I can own my own little home,” was her thought, “Something I can leave for my son, for his father’s mansion will not be his.”

Many nights when she laid in bed, her body tired after a hard day’s work, her thoughts would go back to him, to his words imprinted on her mind.
“I will always be yours, Shanti.”

Those words, now, after four years, had a hollow sound, the love and blissful moments they shared, lost somewhere.

“Why did you leave me, alone like this to suffer?”

Four years of yearning and pain, just one part of him with her, his son.

The first day she had seen him was the day when changes in life began for her and she had just turned eighteen. Her uncaring and opportunistic mother had found her a maid’s job in a wealthy businessman’s mansion because of the good pay and benefits the mother hoped she would reap.

As a child, since her father’s untimely death, the mother had pushed Shanti into odd housekeeping jobs to supplement their home, denying her a proper education.

Shanti had gone for the interview with a nervous feeling, the quiet shy girl she was.

The lady of the house was beautiful with the sophisticated class of a wealthy woman but with a strict unsmiling demeanour that drove a little fear in young Shanti’s heart.

“You’re young,” she had said, “But your recommendations are very good.”

She had looked at Shanti for a short moment and continued, “Seems as though you have been working as a maid from a very young age.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“So you don’t have a proper education?”

“No ma’am.”

“Your family background states widowed mother and three siblings. What happened to your father?”

Before Shanti could answer, the lady asked with a tinge of disdain in her voice, “Alcoholism or suicide?”

Those words felt like a stab wound in Shanti’s heart, the insults the poor had to so often hear, but she answered calmly.

“No ma’am. He was a fisherman and he died on the high seas from a pirate attack.”

“Oh, that’s sad,” she said, but not a hint of regret in her voice.

She put down the application on her desk and shaking her head a little, said, “I was actually looking for a much older person to fill the position and though you’re too young, you have the experience and qualities I am looking for.”

Shanti nodded her head slightly and waited patiently, not sure she was getting the job.

The lady leaned back in her chair and thought for a long moment then she said, “I need a personal maid for my son who’s arriving back home soon. So I’ll hire you for a trial period and–” she paused, a serious look in her eyes, “I’ll be watching you closely.”

“Yes ma’am,” Shanti responded, “Thank you,” relieved she had gotten the job but somewhat scared of the lady.

She began working knowing the difference between modern and antique furnishings, her deftness in cleaning and arranging his impressive wardrobe in perfect order impressed the lady.

Her son, Raj, arrived two days later but he was on such a busy schedule that three days passed before she saw him. She was in the garden filling a basket with freshly cut flowers when on his way out he stopped the car and beckoned to her. She looked uncertain, not sure he was calling her when the gardener said, “Go, the young boss is calling you.”

She walked up to the car, her legs weakened a bit with nervousness, seeing him for the first time.

“What flower in that basket would make this day blessed?” he asked her.

She handed him a peach hibiscus and he smiled just a little before driving away.

“Gosh,” she exclaimed quietly, unable to stop herself from saying, “He’s so handsome.”

She saw him for brief periods in the days and not always he called for her assistance but she always had to be there, his mother informed her, for whenever he needed her. So far, she had done everything with perfection and his mother watching her with sharp eyes could find no fault. One afternoon she was about to lay out an Armani suit for an official event when he walked in earlier than expected. He looked at the suit in her hands and nodded appreciatively, “I wouldn’t have thought of wearing that one but the event has been postponed so I’ll just need something casual for the evening.”

“Yes sir.”

He went out on the balcony talking on his phone as she laid out the clothes he requested and when he came back in, he said looking around, “This room has changed remarkably and has a nice refreshing scent. Is this your work?”

She nodded, her shyness evident and he smiled, “Great.”

“Thank you, sir.” she said modestly.

The next morning he stopped again for a flower and as she handed him a red hibiscus, he said, “You know what, I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Shanti.”

“Shanti, a traditional Indian name, I like it.”

He drove off then stopped and reversed, “I’m Raj.”

She smiled and said quietly, “The name of an Indian prince.”

She was unaware of being watched from one of the balconies of the mansion and as she deftly arranged a vase of fresh flowers for the dining table, Raj’s mother approached her.

“So what was that?” she asked in a somewhat sharp tone.

Shanti paused in what she was doing and looked at the lady, a little perplexed.

“What was what, ma’am?”

“In the garden earlier.”

“Oh,” Shanti answered unflustered, “The young sir asked me for a flower to bless his day.”

The lady gave her a stern look and as Shanti continued with the arrangement she bemoaned to herself, “Being poor, it seems, is a crime for some people.”

Raj, though, was different, along with a little smile and an appreciative tone. He called on her more often, even for the smallest of things like helping him knot his tie, and as his personal maid he took her sometimes to high-end stores and jewellery plazas to assist him in selecting the perfect gifts for birthdays and weddings.

Then one day he suggested they take a short break for lunch at a cozy little restaurant. Shanti wasn’t comfortable as a maid, sitting there with her boss and noting her discomfort he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I-I should not be here, I’m just your maid.”

He shook his head a little and said to her, “You’ve been out since morning assisting me. Are you not tired and hungry?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good, so am I. So just relax and stop worrying about being a maid and enjoy the lunch.”

It was the first time she saw a serious look on his face so she complied and did enjoy the lunch, not realizing how hungry she was.

As she continued working for him, little things seemed to draw her close and every time he looked at her and smiled, she felt a strong feeling in her heart. It was something she didn’t quite understand and one day his mother called her in her office and informed her in a condescending tone,

“My son is pleased with how you’ve been working and he seems to have taken a liking to you, but I do hope you remember your place. You’re a maid and nothing more.”

Shanti knew her place, she knew she was a poor girl from the dust of poverty and a rich boy from an elite family would pay no real interest in her.

Could fate prove her wrong?.

To be continued…