The housemaid - chapter 2 [fiction]

Jun 11, 2023

Hello! If you haven’t already, check out the first chapter here:

The housemaid

April 11, 2023

Chapter 2

This time I had gone home after a month’s time and I saw her the early next morning. She carried a broom under her arm and a dustpan in her left hand and stood blocking my way as I wanted to head downstairs for breakfast. After my fumbling around for a while, she asked me how I was. I answered with a sheepish smile and a half side-nod, “Good”.

I was a bit sick that day. Physically and mentally.

Later in the day, my grand-mom and mom took turns to tell her how she should make time in the evening to cast off the evil eye that was bothering me. My mom had suggested taking me to the fakir. I didn’t say much.

At around 6:30, my mom hollered at me to go stand in the backyard. She then turned to her and said, “Cast it off thrice, like it’s the ritual’. She rushed hot-footed towards me, signalling me to face some direction, which I don’t remember - perhaps since I just followed her gestures until she was satisfied. She stood short, in front of me, but I noticed that she was taller than the average woman her age.

She clasped her right palm tight with what I guessed was a mound of salt and muttering something underneath her breath, took her arm in huge circles facing me. I found myself ever so self-conscious and let my gaze graze the floor. I then worried if I was making her self-conscious by looking about her feet. I comforted myself thinking that she probably didn’t care. She had a lot of work to get back to.

The night was sullenly falling into time and the cicadas had called into session their choral society.

I yawned, trying to respectfully keep my mouth closed. It was hard and I had to use my palm to cover it instead.

She hurried into the old outdoor bathroom that no one uses now and came back with a few twigs from a hay broom. She did the circles again, while I just stood there staring at the floor once more. She then grabbed the matchbox which she had given me earlier to hold and went into the same bathroom and lit those twigs on fire.

The open door obstructed my view but I watched the soft glow of the fire. All was peaceful, until the twigs burst into a violent crackle, popped loudly for a few seconds and died.

She came out from behind the door with a pitiful frown and started muttering about how badly I was affected by the gaze. My grandmother showed up at the scene and she complained with intense conviction to her too.

‘Ayyo! Ayyo!”, I heard her saying. ‘Nothing’s left of the twigs. They exploded like bombs.”

She smeared the ash from the cinders between my eyebrows and at the centres of my left palm and foot sole. ‘Don’t wash it off yet. Let it stay for a while.’ She glared at me and walked away.

I imagined she would make a wise oracle…

If you enjoyed this story, consider liking it and sharing it with a friend using the button below. I deeply appreciate your inbox space. :)

I found an app called Hanx Writer which is a typewriter app by Tom Hanks. It’s pretty amazing and I wrote the first draft of this short story on it using the iPad.