Amma Lakshmi

Sumit was a 40-year-old bachelor, living alone in a tiny apartment tucked into the second floor of an aging building in the older part of town. Despite his age, his boyish face, soft-spoken manner, and modest frame often led strangers to assume he was much younger — and perhaps still in college. Standing at just 5’3” and weighing 64 kgs, Sumit had grown used to the quiet life — tidy, structured, and mostly solitary.

But life began to change the day Lakshmi walked into his apartment.

Lakshmi, 55 years old, had responded to his ad for a full-time maid. When she showed up at his door, she filled the frame. Towering at 5’10” and weighing nearly 85 kgs, she was a broad-shouldered, strong-limbed woman who had spent decades scrubbing floors, lifting water drums, and managing entire households. Her hair was streaked with silver, tied in a thick bun, and her voice had the firmness of someone who didn’t need to shout to be obeyed.

From the very first day, Sumit noticed how Lakshmi operated like a force of nature. She swept and scrubbed like a whirlwind, chopped vegetables at lightning speed, and always seemed to know where he had misplaced his phone or keys. But what surprised him the most were the ways she took care of him — physically.

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Morning Routine – The First Lift

It started on a rainy morning. The electricity had tripped, and the old staircase was slippery. Sumit hesitated at the top of the stairs, unsure whether to risk it. Without a word, Lakshmi crouched down and said in her usual matter-of-fact tone:

“Aaiye saab, gir jaayenge aap. Uthaa leti hoon.”

Before he could object, she scooped him up in a strong cradle lift — his legs dangling, his arms frozen in surprise — and carried him down the stairs like a mother with her sleepy toddler. He expected embarrassment. What he got instead was...comfort.

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Kitchen Commotion – The Fireman Carry

One afternoon, Sumit left the milk boiling on the stove and forgot about it while on a call. By the time he remembered, it had overflowed and was beginning to burn. He rushed into the kitchen, but Lakshmi had already taken charge. Seeing him hover around dangerously close to the stove, she shook her head.

“Aap hatt jaayiye. Yeh meri zimmedaari hai.”

Without hesitation, she bent, grabbed him firmly around the waist, and hoisted him onto her shoulder in a fireman’s carry. With one arm supporting his legs and the other free to turn off the gas, she carried him out and placed him on the couch like a sack of flour.

“Yeh kaam aapke bas ka nahin hai, chhodiye.”

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Market Trip – Princess Carry Among the Crowds

Every Sunday, they’d go to the bustling market nearby. The crowd was always thick, the ground muddy, and the noise overwhelming. Sumit, in his usual neat sandals, often struggled to keep up.

One day, after nearly tripping for the third time, Lakshmi turned, sighed, and swept him off the ground in a graceful princess carry. Heads turned, eyes widened, but she walked straight through the market, her master in her arms, his face red with both bashfulness and awe.

“Log to waise bhi kuch na kuch bolte hain,” she muttered. “Aapka pair bachana zyada zaroori hai.”

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Cleaning Time – Piggyback and Shoulder Rides

On festival days, Lakshmi cleaned even the ceiling fans and high shelves. Since Sumit was too short to help, she found an unusual solution. She’d give him a piggyback ride, handing him a cloth while standing near the high shelves so he could wipe the tops of things.

“Dekhiye saab, teamwork kehte hain isey!”

Once, while hanging string lights for Diwali, she even lifted him onto her shoulders like a child at a fair. Balanced steadily, he clipped lights and decorations as she stood with both arms on her hips, proud like a general.

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Illness and Tenderness – The Gentle Lap Lift

One winter night, Sumit fell sick with fever and chills. He was shivering and unable to get out of bed. Lakshmi, without a second thought, picked him up gently in her arms and sat down on the armchair, cradling him like a mother would a child.

She pressed his forehead, adjusted his blanket, and murmured:

“Akele rehte hain na, toh kisi ko toh sambhalna padta hai.”

In that moment, her age didn’t matter. Her strength was not just physical — it was emotional. She became something more than just a maid.

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Conclusion – Not Just a Maid

Sumit never got used to the lifts completely, but he came to expect them. They became part of his daily life — unexpected, unspoken moments of care. Sometimes it was humorous, sometimes awkward, but always comforting.

He stopped calling her “Lakshmi bai” and began referring to her as Amma Lakshmi. The neighborhood gossiped, some mocked, some were curious. But inside that tiny apartment, a quiet understanding bloomed — that strength isn’t always young, and care doesn’t always come in conventional forms.

Sumit, small in size and solitary in life, had found his support — not in a wife, not in a partner, but in a tall, strong, silver-haired woman who lifted him up in more ways than one.

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