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She sat hunched on her knees, eyes bereft of remorse yet welled up, occasional hiccups bringing a kind of comic relief in that tense moment. She was accused of theft, a grave offense given that maids are supposed to be loyal to the core.
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In India, a house is not ‘home’ until there is a Bai rustling up her magic broom there. She’s the harbinger of cleanliness, convenience and sanity, a God-sent figure who fights the rogues called dirt, teaches messiness a lesson and brings order in disorder.
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