Savitri's husband works as a security guard at a construction site next door. Her older daughter is Shravani who wants to design clothes some day. Her younger daughter Subu (Subhashani) likes to skip school and watch TV at home. She almost lost her foot to infection. Timely (and free) intervention by Dr. Sahu, my old classmate from HPS, has saved her foot. She still has a way to go before full recovery.
When they found that we were leaving Hyderabad, they expressed their disappointment. Ventakesh, Savitri's husband said that if we had stayed a little longer we would have "changed the course of my family". Their combined salary is Rs. 8000 per month. That is $160. They don't pay rent or utilities. The kids education is free, but there are expenses for uniforms and books and supplies. Yesterday Jo and I took some friends out for dinner and we spent roughly two months of their salary.
Towards the end of each month they run out of money. Then they manage on rice and dal (lentils) twice a day. Which they are happy to share with my kids. This morning Savitri brought us a bowl of puliyogare rice (tamarind rice). Though babysitting is included in her salary, I tip Savitri every time. She has refused the money often. "You are doing so much for my family already, Sir." Here's a picture of the shrine in their room.
They are happy - one of the happiest families I've ever meet. I've never seen them not smiling broadly. I've never seen them arguing with each other or with anyone else. Or sulking. Every morning Savitri knocks on the door and when we open it she has a cheerful "Namaste Sir" and "Namaste Madam" for us. We see them often. The car we use in Hyderabad is parked next to their room. Whenever we come or go, Evan and Vivian run into their room or their children come out running to greet our kids. Their door is always open and the flimsy curtain is no barrier for Evan. Savitri especially requested a picture of Madam with her. She shyly asked Madam to put an arm on her shoulder.
Savitri is illiterate. She speaks two languages (Telegu and Hindi). But she can't even write her name in Telegu. Her daughters speak in fluent if not great English. She doesn't know much about Hyderabad. The rest of India is a mystery. And outside India there's only one place where white people live. London. I've tried telling her we live in America. But that's meaningless. So she asks about life in London.
We have an electronic photo frame at home loaded with pictures of Vivian from Austin (we had got it for my dad a few years ago). Savitri has studied it carefully. She has asked me who is this and that. But the other day she asked me who the kala bache (black children) were. I told her they were Vivian's cousins. Questioning frown. I explained further. Madam's sister had adopted them. Five. Soon to be six. She was surprised. "There are people like that in London?" She said that she's seen people who look like that and they live down the street from us. She said she had no idea they were from London.
There are a lot of African college students in Hyderabad. As background I tried to explain Africa and the history of slavery in American in one sentence. She nodded. I don't know how much sense it made. But she did understand one thing - she said with amazement and wonder "Six!?" Motherhood and it's joys and pains are universal. In Hyderabad. And London.
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