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By Huned Contractor Nishtha Jain’s documentary Lakshmi And Me explores the relationship between two women -- mistress and maidservant
Generally speaking, maidservants are considered non-entities. They are there because they are needed. They are paid (usually too little) for their services. And they are supposed to keep their mouths shut and do their work as efficiently as robots. Full stop. Any relationship, if it does indeed exist, is feudal. Given this scenario, Mumbai-based Nishtha Jain’s latest documentary Lakshmi And Me opens a window into a world that not many bother to look into. It shows the bond between Jain and her maidservant of five years, Lakshmi, whom she convinces to face the camera. Thus, Lakshmi, shy at times, bold at others, goes about her work and life letting Jain follow and confront her from one situation to another -- from mopping and cleaning up in Jain’s house to a similar job at the Vaswanis; from her concern about her sisters to her elopement with a boy from a lower caste; from her curiosity about her rights as a domestic servant to her pregnant days. The film unfolds like the pages of an open-ended narrative, each one telling a part of the story, gradually gathering in emotional strength to the point when you, as the viewer, feel as concerned about Lakshmi and her future as Jain is. What makes it interesting is how the master-servant relationship blossoms into a friendship, to the extent that when Lakshmi has a fight with her husband she decides to spend the night in Jain’s house. It’s the ‘trust’ factor that comes into play when Jain is allowed to enter into Lakshmi’s private world -- one in which there is the daily struggle to make ends meet; worries about her siblings; a perpetually drunk father; and a desire to live life on her own terms. One of the more poignant moments in the film is when, in response to a question by Jain about what she would do with her child if her husband ran away, Lakshmi says she would raise the child even if she had to do it all alone. Lakshmi emerges as more than just a person ordained to spend her life doing menial work. She has a mind of her own, which explains why she ran away from home to marry a man from a lower caste, willingly facing the wrath of her father. It also explains why she is an active participant in a meeting of domestic workers. “Am I eligible to get pension,” she asks Jain. Despite suffering from tuberculosis, weakness and chickenpox, Lakshmi gives birth to her baby, undaunted by the additional problems this could bring into her life. Jain says she made the film to “understand the life of someone who works for 10 hours a day, seven days a week, and is still underpaid”. The process of making the film, she says, sensitised her to the extent that she began to feel one with Lakshmi. “Most employers, knowingly or inadvertently, tend to treat domestic workers as if they are inferior or less entitled beings. Some of us have questioned this attitude in ourselves, and have consciously learned to be more democratic. But class notions are deeply rooted in our culture and ingrained in all of us. It’s common enough to come across a liberal person expounding passionate socialistic views but completely oblivious to his/her underpaid servant working in the same room or sweeping underfoot. That liberal could as well be me! This is when I decided to change the focus of the film to ‘our relationship’; a film not just about ‘my maid’, but about ‘us’. And in the process, to explore our relationship with each other and reflect on the whole gamut of attitudes and issues between servants and employers. I was interested in seeing how she negotiates two different kinds of spaces -- her home, where she seems to be the boss, and other households where she is the maid,” Jain elaborates. Nishtha Jain is a graduate from the Jamia Mass Communication Centre in New Delhi. She started her career as an editor and correspondent for video newsmagazines before joining the Film and Television Institute of India (FTII), specialising in film direction. Her earlier critically acclaimed documentary, City Of Photos, explores the little-known ethos of neighbourhood photo studios in Indian cities, discovering entire imaginary worlds in the smallest of spaces. Tiny, shabby studios that appear to be stuck in a time warp turn out to be places throbbing with energy. Her second film, Call It Slut, is a miniature portrait of a wickedly outrageous and compassionate transgender woman who fearlessly takes on patriarchal attitudes and pokes fun at middle class morality, while 6 Yards To Democracy revisits a gruesome incident that took place during an election rally in north India. Thousands of women from poor localities in Lucknow city, lured by the promise of free saris, waited for hours in the harsh sun for the cheap six-yard cloths. A stampede occurred: 22 died and hundreds were injured. This seemingly stray incident uncovers the sordid side of Indian democracy and connects in significant ways with the daily humiliations forced upon these women and their families. Jain is now working on a film that attempts a closer look at those who come to the filmmaker’s door, such as garbage collectors, domestic workers, delivery boys, watchmen -- all those who labour long hours in difficult conditions to make middle and upper class lives in the city of Mumbai more comfortable. “These providers of services and goods often remain faceless and nameless. They are, like the people who enjoy their services, mainly migrants, but their presence here is more sharply defined by the lack of survival options back home. Nothing else explains why they should suffer such harsh and unfair living and work conditions,” Jain concludes. The filmmaker can be emailed at
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. (Huned Contractor is a freelance journalist and filmmaker based in Pune) InfoChange News & Features, February 2008
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