Havah Eden
Everyday HEROES
Havah Eden
Harrington Road. The up-market boulevard stretches out in its habitual panache, boasting of its ingeniously erected homes and flashy metals. To call it a place of disparity, one would never imagine, if one has not been to the far end of 6th Avenue and got a glimpse of the teeny blocks of discoloured apartments that modestly house over a hundred people living in a world of their own. But the place is never without cheer. Chickens run around blithely like they rule the roads, kids in their threadbare dresses constantly engage themselves in the game of happy fistfights, men stroll around with beedis wedged between their fingers, catching up on the unfolding of the day and women squat on cemented floors spilling out a handful of groceries on what can hardly be called, kitchen counters. The place emanates an air of jubilation, never for once lacking the lustre of life. It’ s on the third floor of one such apartment that Rosie has made her home. It’ s perhaps that same cheerfulness that trickles down to her life and to that of mine. For if it is not for the ever-beaming‘ Good Morning maa’ that she greets me with at the door, at 7.30 am everyday without fail, I would not be able to rub the sleep off my eyes, but instead gamely get back to bed, wanting to catch a few more hours of needless slumber. With her full-of-life early morning appeal that sounds much like a constructively clement wake-up call, she has a way of getting me out of bed, as she resolutely heads towards the kitchen sink, teeming with grubby dishes.“ I have to run for work upstairs,” she informs me, jogging my memory, that she heads first to my apartment before she goes to the other three places where she renders house help.“ I know,” I dismiss. As I lay sprawled on the couch catching the results of the Golden Globes, she soon joins me before the television.“ Who is that?” she asks me, curiously pointing toward the television screen, as an elated AR Rahman pops up with a shimmering globe in his hands. I fill her in with what happened with Slumdog Millionaire and she, after intently absorbing the rags-to-riches story of Jamal, utters,“ Well, if I had one crore rupees, I would do a lot of things … for my family.” Chennai is what Rosie embraced as home when her family moved from Uthiramerur, a small village in Kancheepuram district, about two decades ago.“ I was in my third standard then. Chennai was a whole new experience for me. It was a fast city. But I got used to it,” she smiles.“ I intend to go back with my husband and settle down there. But my children, I’ m not sure. They have always lived in the city. I don’ t think they’ ll like the life there,” she adds. Rosie is barely 33,
but has two grown up sons – 18-year old Richard Prabhu and 16-year-old George Bush.“ I got married when I was 13,” she remembers and a smile breaks from the corner of her lips as she justifies her second son’ s name.“ My mother named him after the President of the United States( George Bush Sr). She was hoping that he would be as great as him, when she named him. And I’ m sure he will,” she resolutely explains. For the plus two student George, who has a world of academics stretched out before him, the challenges are many.“ We want to continue his education. But it is his choice at the end of the day. My older son Richard had to quit Loyola College, because we couldn’ t afford his education. He came to us and told us that he’ ll work. Now thanks to his teacher, he is a marketing boy at Reliance,” she says, adding that she and her husband hope to get him a bike that he has been asking for.“ It will make his running around much easier,” he notes.“ Both of them are good kids. They never go out and drink with friends and they always call me and tell me if they will be coming home late,” says the content mother. She reverts to the conversation that we had about her marriage and tells me how she was left with no choice, but to get married, as her parents had the final word.“ I wasn’ t ready for marriage and I hated it when I did. My husband’ s mother came down with jaundice and she felt she didn’ t have much time left. So they were also in a hurry to get married. Over time, I realised how good a man my husband is. I’ m happy,” she says. It was the lady of the house where she used to work who counseled her about her marriage and Rosie is thankful to her, even to this day.“ Madam even took my husband to Dubai, where he worked as a construction site supervisor for seven years,” she says.“ Now he works in a company that makes shutters. He is doing a good job,” she notes. Rosie had been relentlessly inviting me to her house ever since she begun working for me. Finally we decide to take a walk to her house and on the way, she warns me how messy it is as she left in a scurry that morning. As we reach the far end of 6th Avenue and trudge our way through the narrow alley towered over by three blocks of apartments, I am hit by a swift and perceptible change in scenery. I step into the murky interiors of a one bedroom apartment, lit by a zero watt bulb. I make out a television, a refrigerator and a washing machine, among the many things thrown around the house.“ We bought all these when my husband was working in Dubai,” she notes.“ Though we don’ t earn that much now, I’ m glad he has come back,” she quickly adds. To make some extra money, apart from what she gets from helping people with housework, she joined a local self-help group, three years ago.“ Our group is called Suryakanthi. I make appalams and get paid Rs 30 per kilogram. It’ s good money,” she points out.“ I see kids in Chennai getting spoilt because they have too much money in their hands. So even if I win one crore in some competition, as I had told you, the first thing I would tell my kids is to put it to good use.” As I rise to leave, Richard and George walk in and greet me with a half salute. I greet them back the same way.“ That’ s the modern way of saying hello, I guess,” laughs Rosie.“ It’ s a great feeling to come back home and be with my children and my husband. We may not have all the things that we want. But we have a happy family,” Rosie discloses. That day, I left Rosie’ s house as a better enlightened person. I realised, I had a lot to learn from another. Rosie had just opened my eyes.