Scenes from a life:

A realization of the horror of her new married life comes suddenly. Soon she is pregnant and, barely understanding what has happened, finds herself being rebuked by the doctor for “choosing” at so young an age to have a child. Two more children follow; then her husband splits her head open with a rock after he sees her speaking with another man, and her elder sister is beaten and strangled by her own husband.

That’s part of the synopsis, in today’s New York Times, of Baby Halder’s memoir, recently published in English by Penguin India, coming after the great success of the Hindi and original Bengali versions.

Baby Halder, now 34, is a domestic worker whose gift for reading, and ultimately composing, literature was discovered by her employer, retired anthropology professor Prabodh Kumar, in Gurgaon. After reading the article, I was surprised that we hadn’t discussed this book yet at the Mutiny, although commenter Dhaavak (who hasn’t been around lately — where you at?) mentioned it here.

I’m looking forward to reading this book, a classic exercise in giving voice to the voiceless. A few days ago on the thread about Sri Lankan maids in Lebanon, there was a tangential debate about the extent of domestic worker abuse in Indian households. Of course, it’s hard to measure. Baby Halder’s own experience veers from one extreme to another: after she flees Murshidabad and comes to work in the Delhi area, her employers range from the ones who have her lock her children in an attic all day, to Mr. Kumar, who coached her to find her voice.

But the bigger point here is that it’s not just the employment experiences of domestic workers that are misunderstood; it’s their whole life stories. For so many employers in societies where domestic labor is widespread, when workers go home “to the village,” they disappear into a black box. At most, perhaps we learn of the problems their families back home face and for which we are asked to contribute some money. Of their back stories, their childhood and formative moments, we usually know very little, and often don’t care to know at all.

The Hindu has a nice story and interview that gives a little more detail:

“My employer Prabodh ji has lots of books, including many Bengali books. While dusting them, I always used to think if one day I could read them. Even as a child, I always wanted to go to school. Despite our poverty, my mother never stopped us from going to school and even after she left us, I continued going. I studied till class 7th. So when Prabodh ji once saw me a little lost while dusting the books he asked me whether I would like to read a Bengali book, to which I said yes. He gave me Taslima Nasreen’s autobiography and soon I realised her life is so similar to me,” she narrates. Not stopping at Nasreen, Baby soon picked books by Mahasweta Devi, Shanko Ghosh, Charat Chandra Bangopadhay, Rabindranath Tagore, Ashapurna Devi, Nasrul Islam and more such Bengali luminaries.

This is, among other things, a compelling example of the vital importance of girls’ primary education. (Here’s a map showing female literacy rates in India, district by district.) It’s also a wonderful story. Much respect to Baby Halder! Continue reading →