I said, “I don’t know anything; I’m at the company.” Then Sunil sir called me, saying, “Madanjeet isn’t at the company. We don’t know where he went.” I got really worried. The situation was such that I could only rely on God—no one knew where he was, because you can’t leave the company without a proper seal (pass), and there’s a guard at the gate. Not even an ant can get out, and it was already 11 in the morning—no clue where he was. I couldn’t figure out anything. So I called and said, “Send someone to check the room,” and when they did, they found him sleeping there.
They called me to say everything was fine, he was in the room sleeping. But the question was, how did he get back to the room? They gathered all the guards, asked around, and no one knew. Then they checked the CCTV to see how he left, but the footage wasn’t clear. Everyone concluded he must have climbed over the boundary. The boundary was really high; everyone kept wondering how he managed to jump over it—maybe God saved him. The CCTV didn’t capture it, or who knows what could’ve happened.
That day, I decided that come what may, “Sahab” (my husband) just can’t hold down a job, because his mind isn’t strong. If something happens and I’m not there, it’s better he stay at home. However he is, he can at least stay at home. And so he’s been at home ever since—over four years now. I don’t even think about finding him a job anymore. All I want is for him to be okay where he is; I don’t need anything else. I’ve thought it over a lot. He can’t work; I once tried bringing him along to work with me, but right in front of me, they told him, “You should leave; you can’t do anything.” So what can I do now? Even a guard’s job—there’s not much to it, but still he can’t manage it.
Now I wonder what work to give him. He’s still at home. If I start a business for him, I have no idea what it should be, because I’ve lost all trust in him. I used to work at a company, but it moved far away, so I didn’t go. Many people moved on, but I stayed because I was alone and didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to stay here, where I knew people. And any company I found offered only 8-hour shifts, which didn’t pay enough—just a basic salary. I figured that wasn’t enough, so two months passed, and I was really stressed.
Then, one day I ran into an old friend. We talked, I told her everything. She took my number and got me a cooking job in a housing society. I got one cooking gig that paid 6,000 rupees, and then three more. I felt good, and the work was going well. But the place I was working at was hard to get to—there was no auto service, so I’d walk, or sometimes get a lift. I kept at it this way, but then I thought, “Why keep doing these smaller cooking jobs? Maybe I could find an 8-hour job so I’d have less trouble commuting.” But an 8-hour job means going in the morning, coming back, going in the evening, coming back—that’s not so easy.
After two months, I got an offer to care for a baby. I met with the baby, liked it, and thought, “Well, I’ll have a proper job, and I like kids anyway.” I took on a 9-hour position taking care of the baby. The family was really nice; they respected me. Even if I was 30 minutes late sometimes, they didn’t mind. So I settled into that job comfortably and didn’t have any problems.
The baby’s mother had been working from home, so she needed me from 9:30 to 6:30. But then her company started calling her to the office, which was tough for her, so she quit and stayed home. Afterward, she got a good job offer from another company and decided to take it. She called me over and said, “Didi, there’s this good company. If I get this job, your hours might increase.” I didn’t say anything, just replied, “Alright.”
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