This one is about Vittal, literally a member of our family.

Vittal came to us from the time I can remember, which means he was probably in our home from my early childhood or thereabouts. More accurately it was around the mid 1970s so even prior to my birth.

To call him a house help or a servant would not do us any justice to his memory. He is probably no more than 10 years elder than me, perhaps a much lesser difference, actually. Yet, he took the role of an elder brother, a help that was always there, someone who was in and out without much fuss.

In Bombay, well into the 90s, the concept of child labor was par for the course. All members of the family had to work to make ends meet. This is what made the city a special place where anyone willing to work hard could make a living and live right next to someone who may be of the same age and does not need to work for a day in their life.

Vittal was not that fortunate or unfortunate, depending on which side you are looking from. As a child, he had desires to have fun, skip a day or two of work, much to the frustration of my grandma. He would abscond from the day's work without notice and always have a good story to tell on the next day. One day it might be his bike wheel that got punctured, or rain that damaged his tattered roof, or his mom got sick. But no cell phones, Whatsapp or any way to inform us upfront, he would show up with a long face and a good story the next day. No one ever knew whether any of these tales were true but at times it got so frequent that you might be tempted to follow him to see what transpires or do other reconnaissance work. But in those days everyone was running and no one really had the time! Each day he did not show up, my mom and aunt would have to cover for the chores whilst my grandma went to chitchat with her friends after dinner. They would do this cursing Vittal for his absence!

As he aged with us and kept serving longer, Vittal became more responsible, more than a house help. He integrated into the family, ate lunch, dinner and snacks at our place. I remember he used to remove his shirt sporting a shorts and a banian (vest) while working so that the shirt remained fresh for his next job. He worked atleast 3 jobs as far as I am aware, possibly more. Sometimes seasonally during festivals, he would take up even more ambitious jobs such as running a sandwich stall selling triangle sandwiches. My family did everything to boost his sales and it actually tasted good, so in a way the product sold itself. No one ever looked down upon him as a servant or poor person, doubted the ingredients or in any way show any discrimination. They were eating out of his street-side stall as if it were a Michelin star rated place. Where were there Yelp or other reviews to check. Life was much simpler.

My father and grandfather would give him "special tasks" to get tobacco rolled up in betel leaves, called Paan. He always knew which ones to get for my father and grandfather. Each of them had customizations the liked to their orders. Never did you have to tell Vittal, it was memorized. In fact it was so robotic that Vittal only had to show up at the shop and the Paan-wala would know what to do!

In time Vittal got married to a girl named Vasanthi. She was a darling of the house, almost like a daughter in law that was actually treated better than the real daughter-in-law given that she was by default not complaining while doing work, would be in and out in a matter of hours. So she did kitchen clean-up work while Vittal took the room, and wall cleaning. They would both cutely dine on our balcony by the bedroom without appearing in front of anyone else. Vittal used to take breaks to take his wife to visit his family at a remote village outside of Bombay. The stories about their commute to the village were very fascinating to me as they involved a train, a bus, a bullock cart or cycle rickshaw, and some walking. I would keep asking questions, especially about the train, and was always curious why they did not take a car to visit. They would not once mention their financial situation. Such was their maturity.

Vittal would drop me to school as a backup, when the guy that was supposed to take me to school skipped work. He would take my dad's old bicycle which had a little seat for me in the front. I loved sitting on that seat and riding especially into the monsoon rain, water splattering through my duck back raincoat. Vittal would make up some story and drop me off. I would bid goodbye and disappear into the bustle of school as he took off to make up for the time lost on another job!

Experiences in life are shaped in some way or form by the people you interact with, especially in your childhood. From Vittal, I learned the value of hard work. Doing that work with a smile. Not forget to enjoy life and everything it throws at you. Doing the very best you can with things you can control. Loyalty. From my family and the way they treated Vittal, early on, the aspects of discrimination on any basis were fairly invisible to me. This in no small ways contributes to my actively embracing and seeking diversity. In other ways, it blinds me to the brutalities caused by some of this discrimination. In some ways, the backdrop provided by the Beautifully diverse city of Bombay is impossible to match anywhere else in the world. It was also a function of time, the 80s provided plenty of catalysts for everyone to aspire to achieve their dreams. People began seeking employment in Gulf countries, the US, and Singapore. Repatriation of funds was increasing GDP. Those with the means helped boost the economy by providing domestic or corporate employment to several. The Gujarati community strong in its business virtues brought plenty of wealth into Bombay. Amidst all this, Vittal grew in his small way and moved from a tent he lived under to brick housing. An achievement he celebrated with us. He brought us, sweets, on that occasion specially made by his mom.

My time with Vittal came to an end as I left for Kuwait. After then, I would enquire via phone once in a while on how he was doing but since our visits to India dropped to once a year, the depth of our connection also decreased. In a couple of years, Vittal took on gainful employment with a company and left doing work for our house - almost a dozen years after he first came in. It was sort of an end of an era as he was irreplaceable and the time was incomparable. My grandpa (yes, the one I wrote about), passed away, my father left for Kuwait, we followed him there. My aunts got married, had kids and moved on. So, it was really just my grandma and her sister who lived in our Bombay residence. Vittal would visit once in a while and my grandma made full use of his time, getting him to do some chores, and of course rewarding him with food, gifts, and other tchotchkes that he probably valued much lesser than he once did.

Vittal got married to another household worker, Vasanthi, I think was her name. They would both come home to visit when we visited from Kuwait. My grandma would send word that we were in town. They had a kid who they also brought along. It was very nice to see their family. The last time I saw Vittal was perhaps in 1990, soon after we came back from Kuwait, but since then, we moved out of Bombay and thus the connection broke down as well. Whenever we visit Bombay, we usually had a packed schedule of visiting relatives, so we barely made it to the building we were on, could not connect with those who had a connection to Vittal. So, unfortunately, this was the end of our time together.

The time we shared with Vittal remains a beautiful memory. Hope he remembers me as I remember him so vividly. I doubt it.

This one is about Vittal, literally a member of our family.

Vittal came to us from the time I can remember, which means he was probably in our home from my early childhood or thereabouts. More accurately it was around the mid 1970s so even prior to my birth.

To call him a house help or a servant would not do us any justice to his memory. He is probably no more than 10 years elder than me, perhaps a much lesser difference, actually. Yet, he took the role of an elder brother, a help that was always there, someone who was in and out without much fuss.

In Bombay, well into the 90s, the concept of child labor was par for the course. All members of the family had to work to make ends meet. This is what made the city a special place where anyone willing to work hard could make a living and live right next to someone who may be of the same age and does not need to work for a day in their life.

Vittal was not that fortunate or unfortunate, depending on which side you are looking from. As a child, he had desires to have fun, skip a day or two of work, much to the frustration of my grandma. He would abscond from the day's work without notice and always have a good story to tell on the next day. One day it might be his bike wheel that got punctured, or rain that damaged his tattered roof, or his mom got sick. But no cell phones, Whatsapp or any way to inform us upfront, he would show up with a long face and a good story the next day. No one ever knew whether any of these tales were true but at times it got so frequent that you might be tempted to follow him to see what transpires or do other reconnaissance work. But in those days everyone was running and no one really had the time! Each day he did not show up, my mom and aunt would have to cover for the chores whilst my grandma went to chitchat with her friends after dinner. They would do this cursing Vittal for his absence!

As he aged with us and kept serving longer, Vittal became more responsible, more than a house help. He integrated into the family, ate lunch, dinner and snacks at our place. I remember he used to remove his shirt sporting a shorts and a banian (vest) while working so that the shirt remained fresh for his next job. He worked atleast 3 jobs as far as I am aware, possibly more. Sometimes seasonally during festivals, he would take up even more ambitious jobs such as running a sandwich stall selling triangle sandwiches. My family did everything to boost his sales and it actually tasted good, so in a way the product sold itself. No one ever looked down upon him as a servant or poor person, doubted the ingredients or in any way show any discrimination. They were eating out of his street-side stall as if it were a Michelin star rated place. Where were there Yelp or other reviews to check. Life was much simpler.

My father and grandfather would give him "special tasks" to get tobacco rolled up in betel leaves, called Paan. He always knew which ones to get for my father and grandfather. Each of them had customizations the liked to their orders. Never did you have to tell Vittal, it was memorized. In fact it was so robotic that Vittal only had to show up at the shop and the Paan-wala would know what to do!

In time Vittal got married to a girl named Vasanthi. She was a darling of the house, almost like a daughter in law that was actually treated better than the real daughter-in-law given that she was by default not complaining while doing work, would be in and out in a matter of hours. So she did kitchen clean-up work while Vittal took the room, and wall cleaning. They would both cutely dine on our balcony by the bedroom without appearing in front of anyone else. Vittal used to take breaks to take his wife to visit his family at a remote village outside of Bombay. The stories about their commute to the village were very fascinating to me as they involved a train, a bus, a bullock cart or cycle rickshaw, and some walking. I would keep asking questions, especially about the train, and was always curious why they did not take a car to visit. They would not once mention their financial situation. Such was their maturity.

Vittal would drop me to school as a backup, when the guy that was supposed to take me to school skipped work. He would take my dad's old bicycle which had a little seat for me in the front. I loved sitting on that seat and riding especially into the monsoon rain, water splattering through my duck back raincoat. Vittal would make up some story and drop me off. I would bid goodbye and disappear into the bustle of school as he took off to make up for the time lost on another job!

Experiences in life are shaped in some way or form by the people you interact with, especially in your childhood. From Vittal, I learned the value of hard work. Doing that work with a smile. Not forget to enjoy life and everything it throws at you. Doing the very best you can with things you can control. Loyalty. From my family and the way they treated Vittal, early on, the aspects of discrimination on any basis were fairly invisible to me. This in no small ways contributes to my actively embracing and seeking diversity. In other ways, it blinds me to the brutalities caused by some of this discrimination. In some ways, the backdrop provided by the Beautifully diverse city of Bombay is impossible to match anywhere else in the world. It was also a function of time, the 80s provided plenty of catalysts for everyone to aspire to achieve their dreams. People began seeking employment in Gulf countries, the US, and Singapore. Repatriation of funds was increasing GDP. Those with the means helped boost the economy by providing domestic or corporate employment to several. The Gujarati community strong in its business virtues brought plenty of wealth into Bombay. Amidst all this, Vittal grew in his small way and moved from a tent he lived under to brick housing. An achievement he celebrated with us. He brought us, sweets, on that occasion specially made by his mom.

My time with Vittal came to an end as I left for Kuwait. After then, I would enquire via phone once in a while on how he was doing but since our visits to India dropped to once a year, the depth of our connection also decreased. In a couple of years, Vittal took on gainful employment with a company and left doing work for our house - almost a dozen years after he first came in. It was sort of an end of an era as he was irreplaceable and the time was incomparable. My grandpa (yes, the one I wrote about), passed away, my father left for Kuwait, we followed him there. My aunts got married, had kids and moved on. So, it was really just my grandma and her sister who lived in our Bombay residence. Vittal would visit once in a while and my grandma made full use of his time, getting him to do some chores, and of course rewarding him with food, gifts, and other tchotchkes that he probably valued much lesser than he once did.

Vittal got married to another household worker, Vasanthi, I think was her name. They would both come home to visit when we visited from Kuwait. My grandma would send word that we were in town. They had a kid who they also brought along. It was very nice to see their family. The last time I saw Vittal was perhaps in 1990, soon after we came back from Kuwait, but since then, we moved out of Bombay and thus the connection broke down as well. Whenever we visit Bombay, we usually had a packed schedule of visiting relatives, so we barely made it to the building we were on, could not connect with those who had a connection to Vittal. So, unfortunately, this was the end of our time together.

The time we shared with Vittal remains a beautiful memory. Hope he remembers me as I remember him so vividly. I doubt it.