The Maid in Reconnaissance

Living in an expansive heritage apartment in the heart of the oldest business district of the country, left to be lonely both physically and mentally, is not something one would have bargained for. As I step out, I see how I once visited these places in a tourist form long ago and what I call my hood now. The Covid confinement, far removed from a much more mobile life, had forced one to be close to oneself when there is nobody else to be close to, far or near.

The apartment is such, one hardly gets to see anybody else’s house. During weekdays mornings you can see people passing by for work almost in density of Shibuya crossing. Since I was essentially a weekend resident pre-covid, I felt happy that I did’t ve to see those crowds. Once the lock down started and I was dumped, there was not a single soul in view. It was the living-in maid of one neighboring house that was the only human form I could see to know that I am still in a human society. When I say see, its not before long, actually I could see her.

The view was through the kitchen windows of both the houses through two layers each of glass pane and insect nets. When I used to be working on my sink in the night, I could see the silhouette of a girl spending most time in the kitchen. I never saw the main residents of the house, or more particularly the lady of the house, until much later. All I could see in the form was a slim person, with some top-knot type of hair do in the early morning visibility and not so in the evening light. The figure seemed inattentive to anything other than her tasks at hand. Once I saw a clearer view of the girl as she had opened the windows for cleaning and once more on balcony while drying clothes. Then I guess I knew how she looked and what her face conveyed.

She kind of looked melancholic and somewhat very ethnic in her facial features. Should be around 20. As I had more observations of the only nebour, I noticed she spent most of the time in kitchen and her room beside the kitchen and once in a while came out on the balcony to speak on her mobile. The only time she was seen with a smiling face was when she used to speak on her phone. At times she would just stand in the balcony gaping in to the evening sky. I have never seen her looking to the side where my house is.

I used to imagine often what might be going on in her mind all the time as she went on with her chores the whole day for the family of four.

Then I discovered that the young kid of the house ( boy of 2-3) was very attached to her and she too looked brighter when they played in the backyard balcony which is visible from my balcony and I spent most of time to be beside the trees.

(My life is pretty sorted and I think those who said “move on, you are not a tree” are ungrateful to the trees. I too refuse to move on or off, like a tree, even if there would not be any bird coming this way)

Now I spend most of my waking hours on work as earlier, traversed the seven stages of grief, (or so I thought). The interaction with physical persons at work is still next to nothing except with one of the personal secretaries.

Having somebody at touching or talking distance is better than being alone. Having a unsuspecting maid serving to break my loneliness for days from a distance may also count. If I would have a chance, I would love to gift her something that would make her happy.

Thank you, girl, for helping me in those difficult days. You may never come to know.