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STORY TIME: The guilt
“Safia! Safia! Come here immediately!” yelled Maria fiercely, pacing here and there in her room.
“Yes, baji?” asked Safia, a fourteen year old girl who worked as a maid at the Khalid household.
“Did you dust my room today?” inquired Maria, quite full of rage.
“Yes, I did. Why, what happened, baji?” asked the frightened Safia timidly.
Maria glared at Safia and pulling her by the ear, took her to a corner of the room, where directly underneath an antique, wooden rack, lay a gorgeous but broken, vintage vase. “Do you realize how expensive this vase was?” shrieked Maria and pulled Safia’s ear harder who squealed and said quietly, “I am not the culprit of this shattered vase. When I dusted this rack today, the vase was not broken and stood in its usual place.” Safia pointed towards an empty space on a shelf.
Maria shouted “Mummy, mummy! Safia broke my precious vase and is denying it!”
Maria’s strict mother, an elderly lady with green eyes, came running into the room. “Safia! what is this that I am hearing?” she demanded, ferociously, staring hard at Safia who was petrified.
“But, memsahib, I did not break the vase and whatever I may do, I never tell lies!” protested Safia.
“Mummy, I don’t care! She dusted this room today and I am certain she broke my vase deliberately! I want my vase back,” screamed Maria and began to sob on purpose, so that her caring mother would fire Safia from the job and hire a new maid.
“Safia! This vase cost me twelve thousand rupees and so I am cutting your salary for the next twelve months, which is one thousand per month. Go away now and send your mother to me early on Monday morning. I am most displeased with you,” admonished Mrs Khalid.
Tears started sprouting in Safia’s eyes, she said, “memsahib, please have mercy on me! My father...”.
“I don’t care two pence about your father. Now go,” said Mrs Khalid coldly and glared mercilessly at Safia, who ran from the room weeping.
“Now, Maria. Don’t worry about that vase; I shall purchase a new one for you as soon as I can!” Mrs Khalid flung an arm over her daughter’s shoulders. “Get ready quickly and accompany me to Mrs Yasir’s house for lunch.”
“Oh! Good afternoon, Majida! Come in.” Maria and her mother had arrived at the Yasirs’ house and were being greeted by Mrs Saadia Yasir at the front door. Maria walked inside with her mother and sat down on a chair in the huge drawing room, where she was surprised to find a dainty girl of about thirteen, tidying up the room. The girl was wearing a long purple sweatshirt and a pair of bottle green jeans. She had shiny black hair pulled back into a French braid.
Maria turned quietly towards her mother and asked “Who’s this, Mummy? I thought Aunty only had one daughter who was away studying at a boarding school in Murree.”
Mrs Khalid shrugged and said “Maybe she has returned.”
Mrs Yasir entered the room and walked towards the girl. She patted her on the head and said sweetly, “Zeba, beta. Please fetch three glasses of soda for our guests.” Zeba turned around and Maria saw that she had a fair complexion.
“Aunty, who is that girl? Is she your daughter?” inquired Maria as soon as the girl was out of sight.
Mrs Yasir chuckled good humouredly and replied, “No, she is not my daughter. My daughter is sixteen years old whereas Zeba is only twelve. You see, she is my maid’s daughter. I truly adore her and so I have sort of adopted her.” It took a few seconds for these words to sink in.
“Y - your maid?” stammered Maria’s mother “But she doesn’t look like a maid by her appearance!”
“Oh, yes! I don’t even treat her like one. Actually I really hate those people who treat their servants as if they are not human! Poor people have rights too, you know!” answered Mrs Yasir, apparently surprised to see the astonished faces before her. By the time they had lunch and went back home, Maria’s head was spinning. She was feeling very guilty of her behaviour with Safia. Poor Safia, thought Maria, I definitely shall apologize to her on Monday, when she arrives with her mother.
But all these good thoughts were shattered the very next day. It was five o’clock in the evening and Maria was searching desperately for her English exercise book, which had suddenly disappeared. “Where is that stupid book? I know it was here yesterday afternoon!” she muttered angrily. Quite by chance she saw it tucked under a cushion on the couch in her room. Just by taking one good look at it, Maria knew it had been touched by somebody.
She opened the book and there on the very front page was a letter addressed to Maria. It looked as if the person had loads of trouble writing it. There were ink marks all over the page and the writing was barely readable. Who could have written a letter in my book? thought Maria and as soon as this thought entered her mind, she knew the answer: “Safia!” growled Maria angrily. She yelled “Mummy!” and started reading the letter. It was as follows:
“Dearest Maria baji,
I know that your birthday is near. I have been saving up as much money as my dreadful father lets me to. He hit me like anything when he discovered that I had been keeping some money from my salary for myself. He burned my hand once, saying that I don’t earn enough money. Life is extremely difficult for me at the moment. Taking care of all eight of my siblings day and night, eats me up. It was much better when Dadi was alive. At least she saved me from being beaten.
Even though it is my father’s duty as the man of the house to provide us food and shelter, my mother, me and two of my sisters do this task. All my father does is eat, beat us, smoke cigarettes and listen to music. He doesn’t even care for my youngest brother who is diagnosed with a dreadful disease. The doctors say that it can be cured, but the money for it cannot be arranged by our family. Once when I tried to save up some money, my father found out and used it to purchase cigarettes for himself.
Anyway, baji, I have two wishes that I want fulfilled more than anything in the whole, wide world. Firstly, that my brother, Javed, is cured of this disease and secondly, that your attitude towards me turns sweet. No, no! Baji, don’t be angry! I just don’t like to be treated the way I am treated presently. I know that the conditions at my home cannot be improved, but at least you could change your behaviour towards me, so I can be content at one place for a change.
Safia”
Maria’s eyes were overflowing with tears by the time she finished reading the letter. Her mother came into the room. She was shocked to find Maria sobbing, she rushed towards her and asked, “My dear! What is wrong?” Maria handed her the letter and wept the whole time her mother read the heart melting note.
“Mummy, if I had known she had such a miserable life. I never would’ve-”
“I kn-know, darling! Even I never gave a thought to her painful life,” interrupted Mrs Khalid who, too, was looking woeful.
Suddenly something dawned on Maria, she jumped and stood up. “But, Mummy! Do you remember that when you were scolding her yesterday, she said something about her father! Oh, no! He is going to be furious when he learns that we aren’t going to pay Safia!” she said in a trembling voice.
Before her mother could say something, the doorbell rang. Maria opened the door and there stood none other than Safia’s mother. She appeared to have been crying. She gazed at Maria and said “Beta, Safia left this note for you before she — before she died in a road accident yesterday evening!” Maria gasped and leaned on a wall to steady herself. Safia’s mother handed Maria a piece of paper and left.
Maria opened it and read “Happy Advanced Birthday! Look under your sofa for you-know-what!” She ran to her room and crouched on the floor to look beneath the leather couch. Sure enough, there lay in the midst of all the dust and cobwebs, a beautiful silver necklace; a sort of repayment for the broken vase.
Maria picked the accessory up and wore it around her neck. “Maria, my dear. Don’t cry, it’s going to be okay!” Mrs Khalid had followed Maria into the room. She wrapped her arms around Maria and hugged her tightly. This incident had a great impact on Maria’s life and she turned over a new leaf. She asked her mother to use the money of the vase on the treatment to cure Javed’s sickness, she also hired one of Safia’s sisters, Zaibi, to work for Rs2000 per month and treated her as if she were her own sister by giving her expensive clothes and lending other things. Maria collected all of her old belongings and donated them to the homeless shelter. She even visited Safia’s house, where she saw Safia’s cruel father who seemed shaken by his daughter’s death. He had stopped smoking and was currently seeking a job. Maria formed a club to protect human rights and went door to door explaining the importance of servants in the world today.
So you see, the Egyptian proverb is absolutely correct; it is never too late to mend your ways!
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