Known by Name, Unknown by Life

Nobody knew where she came from.

Or where she went after work.

Nobody knew if she had children waiting for her, if someone made tea for her when she got home, or if there was anyone at all.

But she knew everything.

She knew that today “didi” was working from home, so the number of coffee cups would rise from two to four.

She knew that “bhaiya’s” salary had not arrived yet, and perhaps this month he would not be able to send money back home. Maybe her salary would be delayed too.

She knew that in the yellow-walled house on Lane №4, the Sharmas had begun looking for a groom for their daughter and the word on the street is that Ladkewala’s has asked for dowry.

Across the lane, Khan Sahab’s mother had been bedridden for months.

She knew all of this because people spoke around her as though she were furniture.

While washing utensils, she heard one exhausted Pooja Didi say, “Sandhya, living in today’s world has become so difficult.”

While hanging clothes to dry, she overheard Salma crying about her mother-in-law. After losing her own mother, she was terrified of losing the only woman who had become a mother to her again.

She knew who had fought, who had cried, who was in debt, who was in love, and who had silently stopped speaking to each other.

Somewhere, she belonged to all these families.

She entered their homes before they woke up and left after they had begun their day. She knew where the sugar was kept, which cup belonged to whom, whose medicines could not be forgotten, and which child refused to drink milk.

She was a part of their routines.

Yet she remained a stranger.

Because the only thing these families knew about her was this:

“Vimla didi won’t be coming today.”

Why?

Nobody knew.