The Unpolished Gem (1050 words)

Selvi lived in a dingy Housing Board flat meant for low-income families. When her husband was alive, he had managed to secure it on rent. Over the years, the building had deteriorated badly due to poor maintenance and the indifference of its occupants. It was a dreary place where poverty showed in every cracked wall and dark corridor.

She lived there with her three daughters and her youngest, a six-year-old son. The eldest was fourteen. All four children attended the corporation school a little away. Life had become one of constant struggle after her husband died suddenly in an accident.

Selvi worked all day in a large white bungalow nearby, helping with every household chore, including cooking. It was exhausting work, but she preferred this house because it was close to her home and paid well, what she would otherwise have earned working in two or three houses. The only drawback was the landlady, Kokila, a perfectionist and strict taskmaster who tolerated nothing careless or incomplete.

Selvi laboured hard to please her, but Kokila was never easily satisfied. While Selvi swept or mopped, Kokila stood beside her, ensuring every piece of furniture was moved and every corner cleaned. At the end of the day, she inspected the washed clothes for any stains and scolded Selvi for the smallest oversight. She never spoke kindly, always remaining formal and distant. Though she knew Selvi’s poor circumstances, apart from giving new clothes to the family during Deepavali and Pongal, she never offered anything extra. She appeared cold and heartless, devoid of compassion.

One day, Kokila entered the kitchen and found Selvi lying unconscious on the floor, the milk boiling over on the stove. Furious at first, she nudged Selvi sharply. When Selvi did not respond, Kokila grew alarmed and sprinkled water on her face. Only then did she learn that Selvi had not eaten for two days, and whatever leftovers she was allowed to take home were barely enough for her children.

Yet Kokila showed no sign of sympathy. She said brusquely, “Be alert. I don’t want a fire accident due to your carelessness. There’s no point in giving everything to your children. Since you are working, you must also eat. Anyway, take some rice and sambar and eat,” and left the room.

Selvi was deeply hurt by her harsh tone and did not feel like eating in that house. But she forced herself to, to avoid the dizziness that had caused her to faint.

The next day, when Selvi returned home, she found a large bag placed at her doorstep. She called her daughter and asked who had brought it. The girl said that an old man had left it there, saying it was meant for their house. Curious, Selvi opened the bag. It contained enough rice, pulses, oil, and other essentials to last the family for a week. She was stunned by this unexpected blessing at a time when there was not a grain in her kitchen.

 She hesitated, wondering whether to wait and discover who had left it or feed her hungry children. Her motherly instincts prevailed. She cooked a hearty meal, and her children ate with delight.

Meanwhile, Kokila continued to extract every ounce of work from Selvi, making her resent her deeply. Selvi never asked for money or help; she only longed for a kind word or a little appreciation. Several times, she thought of quitting the job, but the fear of worse alternatives held her back.

When the same bag of provisions appeared at her door the following week, Selvi lost her temper. She called her eldest daughter and shouted, “I don’t want to hear any lies. Tell me who brings this bag every week! Do you have a boyfriend? Do you talk to any man in this block?”

The girl burst into tears. “Amma, I swear I don’t know who brought this bag. I have no boyfriend, and I don’t talk to anyone. How could you suspect me like this?”

Selvi was not convinced. “Who would leave provisions worth hundreds of rupees without expecting something in return? You don’t want to see your siblings starving, and you’ve been tempted into wrong ways to get this!” she accused unreasonably.

The girl cried louder. Ashamed but determined to uncover the truth, Selvi decided to wait and see for herself. The next week, she hid behind the door at dusk. Soon, an old man arrived, left the bag, and turned to go. Selvi rushed out and stopped him.

“Why do you leave this bag here every week? Who asked you to do this?” she demanded.

He replied, “Madam, I don’t know the details. I work at Shanmugam Stores. The owner instructed me to leave this bag here every week at this time.”

Still unsatisfied, Selvi asked him to take the bag back if he could not tell her who had arranged it. He hesitated, then said softly, “I am not supposed to reveal this, but from what I heard, the lady of the white bungalow instructed the shop owner to send these provisions regularly and bill her.”

Selvi stood speechless. The woman she had believed to be heartless was, in fact, her silent benefactor.

The next day, Selvi entered the bungalow, eager to thank her. But Kokila stood at the door, anger flashing in her eyes.

“Do you know what time it is?” she snapped. “You are supposed to be here by 7 a.m. It is already 7:10. I cannot tolerate such irresponsible behaviour. I will not listen to your excuses,” she said.

Selvi felt no anger. Instead, she fell at Kokila’s feet and pleaded, wiping her eyes with her sari, “Excuse me, Amma. This will never happen again.” 

 “What is all this drama?” Kokila asked, her voice softening slightly.

Selvi did not reply. She only smiled to herself, knowing now that beneath that rough exterior lay a golden heart.

To her great surprise, Kokila lifted her and hugged her tightly. “Do not worry,” she said gently, “You are part of my family. I will take care of your children’s education. Please find a good school nearby. The present one is too far. I will have the outhouse readied for you soon. You will save on rent.”

Tears filled Selvi’s eyes, not from sorrow this time, but from gratitude.