Maid arrives!!!!

Yesterday, life changed suddenly. I would love to say 'for the better' but I am wary of throwing a party so soon. Let me wait and watch and be sure. Guess what? At around 10.30 am last morning, a woman dressed in a yellow sari and matching blouse rang the doorbell. The watchman who guards the lobby during the day had sent her because he knew that I was in trouble and needed help around the house and felt sorry for me. News had travelled to him through the society grapevine. Honestly, I've never liked the watchman. He doesn't look like he is man enough to keep a watch on trespassers or grab a thief by his throat. He comes across as someone, who'll look disinterestedly at a stranger sauntering into the building, let him explore the premises and do his job without any opposition or questioning whatsoever. The guy has apathy written all over his face. But, for some unknown reason, the residents of the building are under the needle of his suspicion. At least that's what he conveys when he looks at us from under his forever knitted bushy eyebrows. You smile at him and he goes hrrrrmmmph. It can be unnerving, disturbing and infuriating. It's as if he sits in his chair the whole day, because he's been dumped there by someone, a sagging sack, with drooping shoulders, bent back and lazy limbs. And the guy actually felt sorry for me, the stone-hearted Sad Sack, who looks like he's incapable of generating any emotions, the way he wears his face, taut and unmoving. The ogre turned out to be an angel in disguise. Never had my judgment about people gone so wrong. But, what I learnt later sort of diminished my new-found liking for the man. I got to know that he gets a huge cut out of the whole exercise. How naive I was! But then, the fact is, he found a maid for me. Went to the end of the earth to get her, he told me. I think I heard him speak for the first time that morning. I did say that he is a grump who doesn't move a muscle, certainly not a facial one. And the maid did not come with an instinct to scratch. There's no way she'll get even the seven-year itch, as she's been married for 10 long years and is divorced now.
My mom scrutinised her neck carefully to check whether she had a rash and found none. But, this time, I'd beaten my mom to it as I'd done a quick check on that at the door itself. My mom also puckered up her nose to detect body odour but gave up. She made her pass through everything but the ink blot test and smiled approvingly. For the first time in days, she looked genuinely happy. Oh, I would have rolled out the red carpet for the maid but because of the super quick exits done by those of her ilk earlier, I decided to keep the grand welcome and celebrations on hold. No, I'm not a pessimist. It's just that my experience has trained me to be cautious. In the case of my earlier house help, well begun was half done. The proverb has to be applied to them differently. Oh, they begin really well and then flee, leaving more than half of the things undone.
Today, I found the time to blog only because she washed the utensils and swept and swabbed for me. I guess that's a fairly optimistic beginning. Hope is a poor drudge's friend.
By the way, my house help goes by the name Mamta, meaning love. I hope she lives up to her name and falls in love with my mom. Considering that my mom was asking me to help her so that she doesn't feel burdened and leave is, I hope, an indication of the time to come. She hasn't spotted her scratching even once, she hasn't nagged her at all and she actually addressed her as 'my child', a demonstration of endearment that even I wasn't subjected to, not once during my drudge days. This is nothing short of a miracle! Now, what does this one have that the others didn't? Actually, she doesn't have it--the ex-factor. I think she's here to stay. Shall we drink some chilled, minty vegetable juice to that?
I am suspicious of the watchman but can't help but feel grateful to him. I smiled at him the other day and thanked him profusely. And, he actually looked at me through his bushy eyebrows and beamed. Maybe I was wrong, Maybe he has a heart. Maybe it's not the sweat money he got. Maybe, he really felt sorry for me. Maybe.