When I used to be ready to leave for school in the morning, a loud voice of a lady shouting in Marathi would cut through the peaceful morning silence and the occasional chirping of the birds. When she used to drag her huge empty dustbin to the fourth floor, it would sound like an ogre dragging his prey. She would yell out to everyone in her shrill voice, “Keep your garbage out and it better be separated into wet, dry and medical waste.” Waving goodbye to my grandmother (Mamma) and mother (Mummy), I would leave for school with my grandfather (Dadda), who would drop me. It is during weekends that I would witness the morning commotion.
Mummy calls her Sangeeta Tai and people give my mother weird looks as Tai means elder sister in Marathi. When I asked her, she said, “She maybe a garbage collector but she is elder to me and I respect her work as it takes a lot of courage and humility to do the work she does. She and her husband don’t beg or steal. They work hard as garbage collectors and educate their children. They dream that their children will study well and have a good life. We are extremely grateful to her and you too, should be. Call her ‘Kaaki’ which means aunty.” Whether it was the sound of her verbal battles with certain irresponsible residents of our building of 60 flats or the smell of the garbage until the truck would take it away, it was almost unbearable. I observed her from my window. She had to sort out the garbage with her bare hands, keep things that can be recycled or used aside so that she can sell them. She had to sort through dirty diapers, used sanitary pads, rotten food but no one cared. People would keep her away and give her old clothes, toys etc but not respect. Mummy had once given her a pair washable kitchen gloves but she sold it off. Mamma scolded her and told her she would give her another pair if she promises not to sell them as it is important for her health. We care about her and she knows it.
My Mamma would not only give her old clothes but also new ones on festivals along with some money that every resident gave her. Not only leftovers, my family would always keep a portion aside for Kaaki’s family whenever we made special edibles. My mother would give her cosmetics that she’d get from certain companies even though she had closed down her Medi-Spa. Kaaki’s dusky face would light up, her twinkling, black eyes would make her curly hair-bun look neater and her medium-sized, chubby body in a dark coloured sari would start working faster. Everyday, before leaving, she’d come to our first-floor house and ask my Dad for cold water to drink and he would happily oblige.
Suddenly in 2016, my Mamma was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer and was under treatment. Kaaki would peep from the door and ask her if she needs help though the answer was always no. Mamma passed away three years later due to a relapse. That was the first time, Kaaki entered our house to pay her respects to Mamma’s body. Mummy said to her, “Tai, no one will scold you anymore.” She just burst out crying. After that day, Kaaki would regularly ask Dadda if she could help. Dadda, despite his knee injury and my mother being bedridden with a rare disorder would thank her and say no.
Covid 19 crisis made things worse. People stopped opening their doors and would keep the garbage out. They started treating Kaaki as if she was responsible for the spread of Corona virus. Mummy remembered Mamma’s promise to Kaaki and Dadda kept a pair of kitchen gloves and a washable mask in a box of strong disinfectants outside our door. We have lost all our money to Mamma’s cancer but it wasn’t hard to save some money for a good cause by cutting down our needs. If we have any extra groceries, Dadda gives them to Kaaki.
While other garbage collectors don’t even go to the buildings that have Covid19 patients, Kaaki takes precautions and waits on the ground floor where the patient’s relative gives her the garbage. Even though it’s not her job, she cleans floors, stairs and railings daily with strong disinfectants and helps out Covid positive families by getting them necessary items as shops don’t deliver to such houses. Now, thankfully, the building people have started realizing her importance. She often comes to our door to ask Dadda about mummy’s health which is deteriorating. He conveyed to her that the disorder is incurable. As my father has been posted elsewhere, she would ask my Dadda, how she could help. He would peep through the barely open door and tell her, “You are a Corona Warrior and an Angel of Cleanliness. You are already helping all of us by keeping our building neat and clean.”
I gathered my courage and politely asked her, “Kaaki, how do you do this thankless yet important job every day, especially when people treat you badly?” She said, people call it a dirty job and treat me like an untouchable but I know that someone has to do it if we want our present and next generation to be healthy. This job has made me humble and God always blesses you when you do the right thing. There are few families like yours who give me enough respect and love to destroy any negative feeling I have towards anyone who ill-treats me. Dear child, you only lose your faith in what you sincerely do for others if you have expectations. I have none so I am one of the happiest people on earth.”
Vizzmaya is a wanderer in the land of stories and an explorer in the sea of poetry. She is 10 years old but her life’s experiences make her writing age faster but gracefully. She is awaiting for the release of not just her first book but all her 7 e-books via Amazon by the end of November, titled- Vizzmaya’s wonderland (parts 1 to 7) which contain poems, stories, write-ups and jingles. She hopes they add positive energy to the lives of everyone who reads them and is passed on to others for their betterment.
Vizzmaya Jalal, a Class 5 student of St. Francis ICSE school, Mumbai, is a poetess, a writer, an aromatherapist, a herbalist, a classical singer, a classical dancer, a keyboard player, a basketball and chess player and a linguist who speaks 9 languages. She is an iron girl who sees her bedridden mother medically suffer like hell each day and yet inspires and motivates her to fly higher with the help of my maternal grandfather’s positive energy and take others along with her beyond the clouds of earthly problems and pain to a peaceful place where spirituality and science live together in harmony; thus staying true to her name, Vizzmaya which means wonderment.