The housekeeper

We have a super sweet tamilian housekeeper. She’s way too sweet. Tries to help everybody every time she could. She used to live in the same premises as us with her husband. This husband was under severe depression and became an alcoholic. Gave Guddi terrible time. He would fight with her and call up random relatives to fight or tell them that he’ll finish himself. So when one day he told Guddi the same thing and called up his brothers too, no one (including me) really cared. It had become such a routine. That day her life changed. Her husband (after consuming a lot of alcohol) hung himself to death. He left behind two school going children (a sone and a daughter) and Guddi. 
Three months have passed since and she’s resumed work after a couple of months of staying with family mourning for his death. And I have questions springing up in my mind every time I see her. I want to know where did she get that strength. I want to see how a woman so dependent on someone for the smallest of decisions copes on a daily basis. Her life revolved around cooking, washing and ironing his clothes. What does she cook now? I see her with a lot of admiration. And sometimes with a lot of pain. She’s not a super woman. But the fact is She has become one and to say the least she didn’t really have an option left. 

A bit of her died when her husband passed away killing the chirpy side of her. I sometimes miss that over enthusiastic housekeeper of mine. I really do. 


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