We'd been two years living in Calcutta when my life changed forever.
My husband, Peter, was a high-tech hired gun who'd been brought in by a powerful new Indian computer conglomerate to straighten out the problems that often came to companies that grew too fast. Pete had just finished up grad school at MIT and his skills had started to come in great demand. The company was flying us out first class and had found us an incredibly luxurious home in a fashionable part of Calcutta and they'd already hired us a cook, a maid, and a yard man!
In Boston, I was supporting the two of us on my lowly boutique shop-girl's salary while Peter went through school and we could barely afford rent and food, forget about the "luxe" life. The idea of being a lady of leisure surrounded by an attentive staff was the stuff dreams were made of and I was packed and ready to go as soon as the offer was made. I promptly tossed all my heavy winter things and went out to purchase the new, summery dresses and high heeled sandals that flattered my very tall, willowy frame, making sure that they were sexy in a way one couldn't possibly be in a staid city like Boston. I stopped by an extremely pricey French lingerie shop and spent some serious money on new ultra-hot spicy new bras and thong bikini panties in the hopes that the sultry Calcutta weather and our new financial freedom would put the heat back into our rather cool marriage.
My hopes were soon dashed after the first few days in Calcutta when it became apparent that all Pete's energies would be devoted to making his career and that I would be left to fill my days with the sort of activities a wealthy "ex-pat" housewife would be expected to do. I soon developed the routine of gym in the morning, massage after my workout, lunch at one of the many clubs for ex-pat wives on Calcutta, followed by a nap after lunch. I would arise from my nap, consult with the staff about household management, then I usually had dinner alone while I waited for Peter to return, tired and cranky from work. This, in turn, made me increasingly bored and cranky with the staff and soon enough, the cook and the maid were becoming nervous and apprehensive whenever I would spend the day at home.
The cook was an older Sikh woman who cooked delicious vegetarian meals, She was quiet and watchful and would nod a greeting as I entered and exited the home. She spoke very little, avoided me if she could, and left promptly at 7:00 each evening after the dinner was served, leaving the young Hindu maid to clean up. She was rough and abrasive with the young girl and I'd found her once or twice slapping her around for some supposed infraction. I tried to interfere but Peter prevented me, saying it was none of my affair and that if both were performing well I was to say and do nothing. I did notice, though, that the older woman aimed most of her slaps at the girls breasts and ass and she was quite brutal. The girl, Chitra, seemed to offer no resistance and in fact, often would smile in a softly mysterious way while she was being slapped around by the old Sikh bitch. I was, I confess, a little intrigued by the way Chitra often seemed to provoke the older woman into beating her. She would back talk and sass the old bitch in her language, then stand there while the cook would administer those angry blows.
Finally, after a couple of years, I could keep quiet no longer. The beatings were becoming more frequent and with increasing brutality. The old Sikh would be pinching and twisting Chitra's nipples under her sari while slapping her in her tender areas and Chitra was actually starting to laugh during the punishment. I stormed into the kitchen and lambasted the old Sikh bitch who promptly left the house, angrily cursing and swearing.
I turned to the now crying young maid and asked her what was going on. Even though she was crying, she reassured me that I wasn't to worry as "That old cow loves me. She will return, I guarantee it" and then she lamented that she would miss her if she didn't return. I was by now utterly baffled and retreated to my suite with a glass of wine to wonder over what I had seen.
