I had a househelp by the name of Jhuma a few years back when my kids were much younger. Jhuma came in during afternoons and early evenings when I would lie collapsed on bed, thoroughly exhausted from my day at school.
I was not the type to chit chat with her, or gossip about the apartment complex centric news. Yet, Jhuma used to chat away to me as she sweeped mopped and dusted my room. I used to hmmm and nod away most of the time.
She would though, elicit a better response from my mom during her visits. At times I used this 'connect' to send Jhuma to help my mom whenever required, as she stayed close by.
It has been almost two years since I have moved out. Jhuma no longer works for me. Infact , I had sort of deleted her from my memory altogether.
Yesterday on a visit to my mom's place, I came to know that Jhuma still visits my mom. She asks after her health and still talks nineteen to a dozen to my mom.
Last week she told my mom that there were times when my little one never finished his afternoon meal completely. Fearing my ire, he would sneak away to Jhuma to throw out the remainder and clean the plate before I rose from my sleep.
A tiny anecdote. A small story ......but, this is a story of a friendship I was unaware of. A relationship of compassion and good faith.
Jhuma eneded the story by holding my mom's hand and begging her not to tell me what my li'l one used to do. She said, " Chota Babu put his trust in me. If you tell Didi and she scolds him, his trust in me will be broken. How will I ever look him in the eye ?"
"Chota Babu" may never meet his Jhuma Didi again. Even if he does, he might not remember the little mischeif where she aided and abetted him. Sitting with a happy foodie tummy today, that unfinished plate of dal chawal lies forgotten by him
Jhuma though, remembers this love fondly till date.
That's the way love is. Unconditional. Loyal. Giving.
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