The Silver Lining

"Baba... nahi nahi!" shrieked Pabitri, the maid.

Sunita, the other maid, who held eight-month-old Juhi across her hip, shouted, "Memsaab, Memsaab, jaldi... Baba..." blabbering words that she herself struggled to comprehend.

The windscreen wipers worked vigorously, beating back the rain. It was the month of May, 2006, when the Saikias were returning home to South Bungalow, Orangajuli Tea Estate, after a lovely evening at the Mangaldoi Club in Assam.

Mangaldoi Club, Assam

"The ladies have been so helpful. Pooja has been teaching me my serves, and Bharati is teaching me to follow through," Lovita chatted happily to her husband, Neep. "You must come and see my game of lawn tennis ;next week." Neep nodded, his mind still on the other highlight of the evening. "And that elaborate high-tea by the Madappas of Nonaipara, out of this world. I have had many slices of that chocolate cake. What did you like?" he asked Lovita. "It was all yum... And so well presented too," agreed Lovita.

They were in unison about one more thing: how lucky they were to have Pabitri and Sunita, such wonderful ayahs to little Gaurav and baby Juhi. They had left the kids in their care a few times, and it was a boon to have them around during their outings. Soon, the car pulled into the garage of the South Bungalow. The rain drummed on the tin roof.

Mrs. Lovita Saikia in the well-manicured lawns of a tea Bungalow

As they scurried into the bungalow, Lovita instructed the maids, "Settle the children and then I'll have you dropped home."

Neep and Lovita went to their room to freshen up. They had barely jumped into their fresh set of clothes when a commotion erupted from the gol kamra.

"Memsaab! Memsaab! Jaldi aaiye!"

All kinds of terrible thoughts raced through Lovita's mind as she hastened outside. She stopped dead at the doorway. Stunned.

Young Gaurav and baby Juhi

There was five-year-old Gaurav, with a wide, mischievous smile on his face, his little palms outstretched, trying to catch a shimmering, dancing object near the fireplace.

And there was Pabitri, shrieking, tugging him away with all her might.

"Baba... nahi nahi!"

Sunita stood frozen behind, eight-month-old Juhi on her hip, shouting incoherently, "Baba... Memsaab..."

"Haap! Haap!" the maids cried, terrified.

In that split second, Lovita understood. It wasn't a toy. Coiled near the warm fireplace, its scales catching the light from the lamp, was a snake. Its hood shimmering, beautiful and deadly. And lo and behold, another creature came crawling out of the fireplace to join the first.

Gaurav thought it was a new plaything. Pabitri knew it was death. Lovita lunged forward and grabbed Gaurav by his hands, pulling him away from the fireplace with all her strength.

"Badhana! Mangra!" she shouted for the chowkidaars.

The chowkidaars came running with lathis. As they took charge, Sunita, still holding baby Juhi, whispered to Lovita with folded hands, her voice trembling with faith:

"Memsaab, they were a pair. If you had covered them with a red cloth, they would have brought good luck to the family. Bungalows in Assam have always had snakes. They are guardians."

She then told Lovita how naughty Gaurav was being; giggling, reaching out for the snakes to play with, completely unaware of the consequences. The chowkidaars gently advised, "Memsaab, you take care of Baba and Baby. We will take care of the snakes." And they did.

All's well that ends well. In Assam bungalows, even a scare ends with a story... many times wild and at times haunted, but always with a silent prayer of thanks.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/821cde_47dc7f34bc084101aed444ae368a4929/720p/mp4/file.mp4

A recent photo of the Saikias and Lovita's narration of her experience