Folding priviledge

A huge eventful event happened in Jasmine’s life. I guess she must have mulled over it for the longest. One day she tells me that she has decided to keep a servant for the morning. One hour. “She will come for one hour and help me do all the house work”. “sure. Go ahead”. I was pretty surprised and pleasantly so. Our income has obviously grown in the last ten years, enough to have one more servant at a thousand bucks a month.

When Jispa was born we were probably the only couple that did not have a full time maid. A full time maid is seen as a necessary thing when you have growing up kids. She takes care of the kid and runs behind the kid with water, food, diapers everything. That’s the objective of the maid. The kid in charge. We resisted this. Jasmine is a work horse. She likes to work. She likes doing stuff around the house and saw no real reason to have a maid. I too loved being with my child and whenever we went out I would be happy to be the tiffin box carrier. In fact when Jispa was a baby the cargo pants were in fashion and I loved them. One packet would be her food and the other would be her water bottle and so on. They were full of stuff that I needed as a daddy on the go. This do-it-yourself worked well. We only had one evening servant who came in to wash vessels and clean the floor. So I was pretty surprised when Jasmine decided to have an extra hand for an hour. I have never questioned her on the expenses of the house and frankly I haven’t a clue. She knows how much money we have and that’s that, it’s up to her to manage the household. And so we have an extra help. It’s been an interesting journey so far. Jasmine is figuring out work for the one hour that we have her. And also when the bell rang on Saturday and Sunday morning Jasmine got up cursing – ‘I will have to tell her not to come early on weekends’. Hah, I love this.

While Jasmine outsources the jobs to the new one, she tries to get eth boring jobs done. One of the boring jobs is folding the clothes after they are washed. I can vouch for the fact that it’s a might boring job to do. You sit and you surround yourself with a pile of clothes and get it done one by one. So the new lady gets to do it. With one problem – she doesn’t know how to fold clothes. Yup. I never knew there was such a thing like not knowing how to fold clothes. When I saw my t shirts, they were pretty badly folded. Not that the lady is a lazy worker. In fact to the contrary, she is a diligent and hard worker who does the cleaning job dam well. She just doesn’t know how to fold clothes. Jasmine then taught her how to fold clothes but then still, over the weekend I had to unfold my t-shirts and then fold them back again. Nicely. I like neatly folded clothes. For some reason I hate folding the clothes badly. Especially the handkerchiefs. I hate badly folded handkerchiefs. I like to join them correctly from edge to edge, the smoothen out the cloth and fold them over and over till they are nice and flat, almost ironed.

But really – it set me thinking. Why would someone not know how to fold clothes? Is it a skill we take for granted? People who have adequate clothes and adequate space to put them only know about folding them, and folding them well. With a person of meager possessions, folding clothes the right way is a big ask I assume. Poverty is a trap that is difficult to get out from. One barely understands the entire range of privileges we have. The privilege of keeping ones possessions neatly. Who would have known that to be one. My other servant also keeps her valuable stuff with us. I learnt that she had just a few suitcases as a store of her worldly possessions.

So I told Jasmine – just get her to fold the t shirts a bit more narrowly. I will manage after that. Afterall I am in Mumbai. In Mumbai there is no Space. Our cupboards are narrow, we can’t fold our clothes broad. Most of us don’t have walk in wardrobes to hand clothes and a few hangers to cling on to. Those from smaller towns will see that folding clothes right so that they are very compact is something we learnt well. They probably have the privilege not to fold clothes nice and compact. Oh dear we are so poor.

A nautch lower

There was a marriage I got invited for. This guy was a sweet IT guy who left the firm to start his own business. A sweet guy. I was happy when he specially sent a card for me and spoke to me. Of course I would come for his wedding. In morning I was explaining to someone that it’s my philosophy that I typically go to these kid’s weddings. I don’t mind bunking a big expensive wedding but I would go for a small simple wedding. My colleague thought that was pretty cool of me – that I am not affected by status or something like that. I thought a bit and said – nopes. I think you are wrong. I am affected by status. Therefore I go to a wedding of the guy who may be of a lower status. So that I feel invited and special. In a big man’s wedding all are called. You are just some small fish.

But to be true to myself – I rather go where my presence means something to someone. I don’t like going for any weddings. They are a really boring chore.

Our servant since  seven years recently became a grandmother. She invited us to a ceremony a few weeks post the delivery. That day in the evening we completely forgot about it and realized only late at around 9 pm. Jasmine called her if we could come and she welcomed us. She stays in a hut under a bridge. We reached the settlement and her son was waiting for us. We were welcomed inside. It was a small tin room with a fan and almost nothing else. A gas stove in the side with a few vessels was the kitchen. A room made inside the shed was the privacy of the young couple. It felt nice to go. We were obviously the big guys coming in. as Devki (our servant) played with her gand daughter she said to her – look who’s come. Refereeing to Jispa  - she said – see your sister has come. You will go to her house an dplay and learn. She stays in the big buildings.

Clearly it was important for us to come. That is what is important when you attend functions. Is your presence a significant to the person inviting. So many times the invite is just for formality. They invite because it’s just a part of protocol. But when someone like the IT guy, who invited because he felt it would be nice for me to come, then I would love to go.

Coming back to Devki. I asked her a few days later – who else came from the buildings. She said only you guys came. The other lady is not like that. She won’t come. She then said sorry Devki. What sorry I ask. She didn’t want to come to the hutments. Jasmine and I looked at each other. Whew. Its good we remembered at the fag end of the day. Otherwise she would have kicked us as well.

Seeing a hutment where people live is always a bit humbling and I was happy that we took Jispa along. Then only can you get a sense of what privileges we have. We take a lot for granted and we as bankers have no idea what the people really want. Devki has the keys to our house. She comes in the evening, does the work and leaves. But crucially the keys to our house are also the keys to her bank. She keeps er money in a pouch in our house. She has kept a few of her jewelry also with us. She also has stored a few gifts of her grandchild. We are her bank and safe deposit locker. She takes loans from us, deposits and withdraws money and keeps valuables safe. When we think of what the people need what we realize that they need a simple place to keep things safe. Her stuff is not under lock and key and it’s not even worth breaking into my house for. It’s almost nothing to us but a lot for her. She has no use for an ATM or a cheque or working hours of a bank. All she needs is a key. But we give keys only to those people who don’t really need it.

Poverty is a curse and it inflicts itself again and again on people. These guys remain poor because of the system as also by the choices they make / forced to make. Just one statistic floored me. She says in the month or so after the birth of her grand child – she has ended up spending around 25 thousand bucks. Consider this to the fact that she did not have to spend any money on the birth, courtesy the government health service. And she spent around 7 grand on the function we were invited to. Seven grand on food/colas and other stuff. Crazy! That’s the money I told you want for you grand kid when she grows up and goes to school. Save it!

Poverty is a state of mind I guess. Something must have struck my grandfather when he was the only kid that decided to study and go beyond his village. He came to Mumbai and became a doctor. His dad was a humble grocer in a small village in Gujarat. He paved the way for prosperity for his generations to follow.  Moving out of the poverty trap is not just working hard, its also thinking hard. Devki works as hard as any one of us, but as she tells – when her son got married she blew a lot of money in the village on the function – including a nautch girl to dance. It seems including her payment and booze – it cost her 800 bucks. Now her relatives want her to come and organize another celebration. I am keen to go to her village and witness it first-hand. That would be another interesting subject for a travelogue.