A narrative.

So, here is the thing. I was home, my laptop in my lap, casual afternoon, a casual day. I saw the screen of my phone lighting up. It was Lachmi, at 3 p.m.

 Let me tell you something about her. Lachmi’s real name is Lakshmi. But because the first time when she came to my rented apartment to work for us ( me and my roommate) as domestic helper, she told me that her name was ‘Lachmi’. When I said it again after her, she giggled and said ‘nahiii, Lachmi’ . A few seconds later I figured it right out. Anyway, since then, for me she has been Lachmi only. We adore her, helped her kids to get into school, had lunch with her when we were home, tried to teach her very small things while she would cook and we would roam around before going to the office. Fast forward. We changed our jobs, moved to new place, not very far from where we used to live earlier but Lachmi could not continue to work for us.

We had not lost touch. To be precise, she did not lose touch. She called up us once to ask for some assistance, bith financial and non financial, to get her kids admitted into school. And we did help. Another time, she called us up tp wish Diwali. You know, just plain wish. It was unbelievable.
Honestly, we did not expect. And, she did not figure in our list of people we planned to wish Diwali.

So, back to the phone.  I picked up, ‘Hello! Lachmi !, kaisi ho?’ , I heard some sobs . ‘Lachmi!’, and then a scared crying woman said, ‘didi! Didi! Police ko bhej do.’ It was Lachmi only. Her husband had beaten her up. She was scared to death, she was asking for help. She said she did not want to go back home. In a weak voice, she had asked if she could stay with us. She had told that she could not go to her sister’s place because her husband had threatened her that he would harm them as well. That’s all that came from Lachmi.

I told my roommate, and we decided to do something. Reader please be aware that we did not know what our laws said about our rights, how this whole police thing worked. Plainly, we were educated illiterates. Anyway, its no some inspiring narrative. Anyway, talked to people, friends, friends of friends in Police department, uncles, all those that we thought could be of some help. And this is what followed.

Most told us. NO, let me correct myself. Everyone told us NOT to get involved, as in we could be helpful but not be visible, backed by the fact  that we lived in a state that featured amongst the ones with highest crime rate against women. So this ruled out her possibility to stay with us.

Someone (in police) made us aware of the whole process of how Lachmi, not us, should/can lodge a complaint/FIR and an immediate arrest will/could follow. Obviously, he could not help directly, backed by the fact that if he did not have anything in writing and he tried to threaten Lachmi’s husband, he could get in trouble anytime.

On getting Lachmi to call a women helpline in adjacent city, just as she told them her address, they hung up, not to take the call again.

Well, you might think that she could go to the Police Station. But that’s a NO. Most of these ladies are from Bangladesh and refugees. So if she goes, she might be questioned on her identity.

I am not saying that any one of those who suggested different things or those who asked us to stay away are wrong. That is why I have made a point to state valid reasons for what they said. But what I do want to say is that she called me an hour ago. I offered her some money to spend the night at a hotel or someplace else. She said, ‘Nahi didi, paise to nahi chahiye. Aap fikar mat karna.’ Call disconnected. Her tone resonates in my ears. The utter helplessness. The fear of approaching dark. Most of all, the lost hope.

I am not sure whether it was a good idea to see that lighted screen a few hours earlier . My phone was on silent mode. It could have gone unnoticed. I may not have called back. 

P.S.: This write-up is dedicated to you, my dear courageous roommate/friend.