Two worthy women – unsung, unknown but to be admired

In my recent articles I have written about well known people and their achievements; books authored by Indira Arulpragasam Samarasekera and Vasantha Senanayake and about Ven Ayya Vayama Bhikkhuni who devoted her adult life to one of renunciation and leading others in Sri Lanka and Australia to know better the Buddha Dhamma. Additionally to me, December is a month for celebrating women because of Ven Sanghamitta Theri’s (282-203 BC) arrival in Lanka, and instituting the Order of Bhikkhunis or Meheni Sassna in the island.

A third reason for my choice of subject of this my last article for 2021 is that at the end of a year we look back on the twelve months gone by and a major feeling is (should be) gratitude for benefits enjoyed. My heart overflows with gratitude to the first of my subjects and though less, yet strong to the second I write about.

I introduce to my readers two women I greatly admire and love – both domestic helpers. They have sterling qualities that seem to be in decline now: honesty, loyalty, commitment and concern for others.

Pothegodage Podi Hamy lived with me and my atomic family for 52 years, bringing up my children, cooking so well my foodie husband approved of her, and generally running the home as I was slip shod in this. I was never a cook since from my young days I was in school hostels and then lived with siblings. Having been employed from age 22 to well past my 60s, my married life was greatly smoothed by PH as we referred to her.

When I took to teaching I lived with my eldest brother and family. The Ayah in the family was spinster Sopia. I would attend to her correspondence, register-posting letters enclosing money orders to her several nephews. She expressed her appreciation by announcing to my sister-in-law that when I was married, she would bring her niece to help me. This she did when I had my first child and moved to Colombo from Kandy; however under duplicitous means. Her niece Podi Hamy was employed in a Wellawatte home. Sopi went over there, said with feigned sobs a close relative was dead and PH had to accompany her for the funeral. In the bus, PH’s suspicions were aroused. “We are not heading to Mapitigama. Where are you taking me?” And so she came to me and lived with us for five decades and more.

She was a devoted care giver to my children; escorting them back home from school, feeding them their lunch with an unhealthy but familiar-to-her much rice with less vegetable curry. Then it would be to a tuition class for Sinhala and to the SSC for swimming classes or back to college or SLTA for tennis coaching. My elder son was devoted to her and she claimed him more than the second who was my sari pota clinger. She mentally fixed a marriage for the elder when he was of age and when he refused her choice and preferred his own, she had to be prescribed a sedative!

Sopi was a visitor who escorted PH and a couple of others, PH’s friends Alice and Kusuma included, on annual pilgrimages to Sri Pada and all-night Vesak sight-seeing. When Sopi was too aged to do this, PH came into her own and moved around freely. She was sent on pilgrimage to India thrice and accompanied me to some other countries. I take her to our Ancient Cities whenever possible.

Sopi did try to get her niece married, to prevent her suffering spinsterhood and earning for others as she, Sopi, had. I dreaded this prospect as I was so dependent on PH to mange my home and kids. But I did not stymie her and allowed free goings and comings. PH refused all proposals, much to my delighted relief.

Then inevitably, age caught on and she said she could work no longer and would like to retire to a Home for Elders. I thought she should continue living with me, now widowed with sons abroad, though my flat is not large. A grandnephew of PH’s came to the rescue by offering a home to her, close to her village of birth. This young man and wife are doing very well, live in a large house and offered a spacious bedroom with attached toilet, balcony and verandah to PH. My sons, now abroad, send monetary gifts and a monthly pension which she hardly needs as she has a good amount saved in the NSB. Her grandnephew and grandniece are admirable as their offer was completely altruistic and they see to all her needs. Once when PH was hospitalized, her grandniece stayed by her bedside in spite of having to look after her in-law parents and two kids.

A driver who helps bring her to my home by car every couple of months, ensures we meet often. Recently with my second son on holiday, inviting a niece and nephew, we celebrated PH’s birthday with a niece in Kandy joining the singing of the birthday song via WhatsApp.

Rupa, a daily helper, who used to arrive around 7.00 in the morning, always loud and bursting with her latest adventure story, kept our small household alive once or twice weekly until Covid came along and her visits curtailed by health conscious me. She travels from Gampaha. Earlier, she worked in many Colombo homes.

She was a whirlwind which arrived with loud tales of ghosts and ghoulies, accidents and misfortunes and the growing up misadventures of three grandchildren right next to her home.

Then, after a still noisy breakfast she would hurricane herself – dusting, sweeping, polishing et al. She would climb a small ladder to dust fans and window grills, and stretch far out in the balcony to pluck a jambu fruit until forbidden by me. At 3.00 o’clock she would be ready to call it a day, smartly dressed in sari – Kandyan style, and later in blouse and lungi, mistaken by co-train travelers as a school teacher.

Her weekly stories were full of the untoward. Her husband and she would quarrel but there was deep devotion between them. Once she tumbled off a bus and had to stay home. He warmed water and bathed her; she tended to his needs very lovingly when he was old and indisposed. Their’s had been a love marriage, he spying her, draped in a wet bathing cloth, at her family well and pursued her against her parents objections that she was too young and he much older. She has a daughter, happily and prosperously married, and a tradesman son.

Her husband’s sister died on the steps of their home and subsequently haunted the place, as she reported. She tolerated the rattles and observed blur at night until it doubled. Consulting the ubiquitous astrologer cum diviner of the spirit world, they were informed the sister-in-law was now accompanied by her husband, dead earlier. The diviner warned that unless they were caught, trapped and disposed of, the hovering spirits would create trouble, already bringing illness and misfortune. Lurid details of the trapping into a bottle and actually seeing two spirits in it, sent me off my breakfast the following morning when Rupa arrived bursting to narrate her story, concluding her tale with the bottle being flung into the deep blue sea.

Rupa is cantankerous, so often her tales are of arguments and unforgiving anger with a relative, fortunately soon forgotten.

She is not employed now. Maybe she enjoys her retirement or longs for Covid to be over, so she can resume her weekly visits. She comes once in a while and it’s a pleasure to give her a decent meal and a bit of money.

Gratitude is the healthiest of all human emotions. The more you express gratitude for what you have, the more likely you will have even more to express gratitude for

. Zig Ziglar

I am glad I have gratitude and express appreciation since gratitude according to the Buddha is almost on par with metta, karuna, muditha and uppekka.

You will read me on Boxing Day. We Sri Lankans have much to box against, results of manmade disasters. We’ll rise above these. So enjoy the rest of 2021 as best as you can and let’s earnestly hope Covid will vane and concern for people by the government will wax strong, soon correcting mistakes and remedying mishaps which are serious.