JYOTI

VISITOR

Thoughts drifted back to my father as I slowly cleaned the white ceramic vase with a floral carving. I ran my fingers along the outline of the flowers, feeling the lovely creation of a potter. I set it down on the small table and started walking down the elegant stairs. I crossed the spacious living room and headed towards the laundry room of the big house I worked in. I pulled out the dirty clothes one by one, putting them in a basket. Those smelly clothes belonged to the little kid in the house. Mrs. Carter’s second son. She was kind enough to take me in as a maid, when my shop, where I used to work with my family, was seized due to unpaid heavy duties which were increasing with time. The ruthless, ruling whites were making life miserable for artisans, peasants and low class workers. We were losing our sources of income. That was exactly the reason why I agreed to work as a maid instead of working at the great textile shop my family once owned.
My family proudly owned the little textile shop which was passed down from my great grandfather to my grandfather and then to my father. This family business was the sole source of income for us. But the whites? All that they cared about was their money, as if the world belonged to them. I mean, this isn’t even their own country. It is not their home. They just cannot do whatever they wish to. I wish I could give them a piece of my mind. They don’t even know how much the commoners suffer. I kept thinking of reasons why we should not let the whites rule over us as I caressed the silk clothing that I had just pulled into the basket. It reminded me of the fun I used to have at the shop when father was still alive. I bit my lip when memories came flooding in my mind. Father gave up his life for he couldn’t bear the loss of his ancestral shop and my mother was too shaken to do anything for weeks. But I was strong. Strong enough to convince Ma not to give up hope, to which she had replied, “You are a girl of eighteen. You can do nothing to pay the impending debts. You should think of getting married instead. Didn’t you hear about Kamla’s marriage? She is two years younger than you and she’s already got married. Look at you! You talk about paying duties. What kind of girl works to pay her father’s debts?” It hurt when she said that, but as I mentioned, I was strong. Strong enough to walk out of the house to find an income to support my family while my older brother did nothing to help. So I had replied, “Oh? Why are you so concerned about my marriage? Do you want to send me off? You want to get rid of me? Even if I’m gone who’s going to pay the debts? Who’s going to pay the taxes? Your jobless son? Why don’t you give him a good beating and ensure to put some sense into his empty head? If you don’t want my money you don’t have to keep it. But you can’t keep me from working.”
“Do you want that sari?” I jumped slightly when Mrs. Carter’s voice startled me. Then I realized I was staring at the sari like I craved for it. In a way, that was true. It was finely made. But that didn’t mean I wanted it.
“No, ma’am. I’ll be done with the laundry soon.”
“That’d be good. We have a visitor today. I would need your help in preparing the meal.”
Sure she had taught me English pretty well so that I could communicate with her but learning an accent in six months’ time was quite impossible for me. I struggled to keep up with her accent. Did she say there was a visitor? I wasn’t sure about that but I was sure I had to finish up laundry and help her making dinner. So I simply nodded and got back to my work, blocking all other thoughts. 
I was about to finish laundry when Marco, the kid of the house, came hopping inside. “Hey, J. Could you please get me some snacks?”
His pants were covered in dirt. Sure he was playing in the garden again. I sighed then smiled. “Sure, Marco. But I need you to change your pants and give me these so that I can wash the dirt off.”
He giggled, “In a minute, J.”
He trotted in, five minutes later and handed me his pants. “My snacks, J.” He pouted. Sweet. I smiled, “In a minute, Marco.”
He sat down on a stool beside me while I washed. He kept staring intently at the grandfather clock. Two minutes later, “Are you done? It’s already two whole minutes.”
“When you said ‘In a minute’ you took five.” I chuckled. He groaned. Few minutes later, I walked him to the kitchen. I lifted him and placed him on the counter. “What do you want, baby boy?”
“Hey, I’m no baby.” He whined.
“Oh, you are.” 
“No! I’m not!”
And we both laughed. 
“Can you get me some chocolate cookies that mom made? I can’t reach them on that shelf.” He licked his lips and pointed at a jar on the top shelf, his eyes twinkling. Adorable. I got him few on a plate. 
“Thanks, J” He said before turning to leave. 
“Wait, do you know who is visiting tonight?”
“It’s Peter, J. I heard mom while she was reading a letter last night.”
“You mean… your older brother?”
He nodded nibbling on a cookie. I had never met his older brother, same goes for his father. I’d never met him either. I pulled myself out of my thoughts as Mrs. Carter entered and we started making dinner.
“I’ll start preparing chocolate rolls for dessert… they take a lot of time. They’ll arrive late, around ten. It’s five now, we have plenty of time.” I nodded and we began.
As I was kneading the dough, I saw Marco in the corner of my eyes. He was sneaking peeks into the kitchen and then started tiptoeing towards me. Then came Mrs. Carter’s voice who had her back turned to us, “No more cookies, Marco.”  Marco stopped in his track and stood straight.
“I wasn’t trying to get cookies. How can you say that?” He reasoned.
“Oh? Why else would the kid of the house sneak into the kitchen behind my back?” Mrs. Carter asked in a teasing tone as she turned to us.
Marco turned into a vibrant shade of red, visible clearly on his white skin. “I’m not a kid! And I wasn’t trying to ask J for cookies!” He covered his mouth as soon as he said those words. Mrs. Carter chuckled behind him as he ran out of the kitchen.