A Journal of Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwavidyalaya

“Who’s playing on the piano, Nurie?”
I ask her, halting her flow of words.
“Grace Miss Saheb. She was a piano
teacher once upon a time.
‘‘When she is sad she is at it for hours
together. If she takes a liking for you
she won’t mind playing for you too.”
“Since when are you here, Nurie?” I
interrupt her to ask.
“I must have been fourteen or fifteen
when I came here. I know you will ask
her age. Saheb, it’s not easy to tell her
age. She’s not like Hindustani women who
solidify as soon as they turn forty. She
is a white Memsaheb. What’s her clan and
what’s her caste I just don’t know. In
fact nobody knows. White skin is the only
distinguishing mark of this race. People
say one can find the age of a tree from
its bark. As for her, you can do so only
if one can see her from close quarters.
Her legs are like the branch of an eucalyptus
tree and she covers them with nylon
net... ’’
“Nurie, what brought you here to stay
with them? You should have been the
owner of a village haveli (mansion).” I
looked into her alert, gray eyes to read
her past. But she brushed aside my question
and continued. “So, Saheb, as I have been
telling you I used to come to these Saa’b
log’s house with my mother. These people
called my mother ayah. She had spent
her entire life in the service of these people.
My mother married me to an employee
of the kothi, a man with an odd sort
of name. Oh, yes, they called him Steward
or some such thing.
“When mother became very old she
went back to her village and I took her
place and did the same work that she
did. I almost became a part of this place.
I don’t remember how long ago it was.
I have lost count of the years. But I suppose
I’ll be sixty this winter. It was about ten
years ago. I remember it for we had a
heavy snowfall that year. It was Christmas
night. It was in the adjacent kothi that
my man drank off a full bottle. He fell
asleep and never woke up again. From
that day till this day I’ve managed to
pass my life here. May God give long
lives to these sisters. It’s because of them
that this Nurie who’s now sitting before
you has not gone without food even for
a day... As for tomorrow, I leave it to
God.”
“Nurie, did anyone else live in this
kothi before them?”
“Oh, I see. So that’s what has brought
you to this kothi—the talk that’s going
round about it. Now that you have asked,
I shouldn’t hold back anything. People
say that this house does not belong to
these sisters. They had an Auntie. She
was childless and had called these sisters
to live with her in her old age. Now it
is upto them and upto their ways what
they do about it. For that matter, at the
January-March 2012 :: 109