A Real Durwan Summary & Analysis

Opening with the descriptor “sweeper of the stairwell,” immediately reduces Boori Ma to one identity and occupation. And although her physical description is brief and rushed, the description of her voice is powerful. After all, it is her voice that becomes her main identity as she recounts her past day after day. The subtle details of her voice, of sorrow and sharpness, introduce her as a complex, “three-dimensional” character who exists beyond physical appearance and station, even though society tries to pin her down as just one thing.

The lavishness that Boori Ma recounts when talking about her past life begins to raise the question of whether or not she’s telling the truth and if her memory can be trusted. The skeleton keys make the first appearance here, as she carries them around as a constant reminder of her past. The mention of Boori Ma’s skeleton keys and life savings fastened to the end of her sari also serves as a moment of foreshadowing, as both will feature importantly in the plot near the end of the story.

Boori Ma’s recitation of “Believe me, don’t believe me” crops up several times throughout the story in various forms. Here, it suggests that she doesn’t care if the residents believe the granular details of her memories, like the size of her estate. What she really seems to be trying to communicate is the notion that she’s lost a lot in her life in recent years. Meanwhile, the detail about Boori Ma’s accent positions her as the Other, as she’s set apart from the other residents.

The narrator admits that not everything Boori Ma says is true. However, the facts are “garbled,” not entirely erased, and the details are “embellished,” not changed on a fundamental level. The implication is that foundation of her stories is solid. The residents at this point appear to agree, acknowledging that Boori Ma and her stories can’t be entirely “dismiss[ed]” as false.

Mr. Chatterjee’s qualifications for resident intellectual are thin and even ridiculed here. However, his verdict that her stories aren’t malicious or problematic is significant—later in the story, he will again proclaim that her “mouth is full of ashes,” but the implication will be much different.

A zamindar is a wealthy landowner who leases out parcels of their land. Thus, the residents decide that Boori Ma was probably not a landowner herself—this is too implausible to them—but that she lived and worked as a tenant farmer on land that she and her family leased from a zamindar. Once again, though, it doesn’t really matter to the residents whether or not her stories are true because they “hurt no one,” and she’s good at her job as a durwan.

The fact that Mrs. Misra’s telephone is the only valuable in the whole building suggests that the residents are not well off, so Boori Ma’s job as an unofficial durwan seems suitable for such an establishment. The idea that men, not women, are usually durwans also brings gender to the forefront of the story. As she was previously set apart as the Other because of her accent, now she is positioned as different because of her gender.

Once again, Boori Ma appears unreliable, insisting she has mite bites, when Mrs. Dalal sees no tangible evidence. It fits with Boori Ma’s insistent story-telling about her past because the foundation of the story is true (that she feels pain on her skin), while the surrounding details are false (that the pain specifically comes from invisible, winged mites).

Boori Ma and Mrs. Dalal’s current positions are ones of resident and servant, and yet this moment demonstrates how Boori Ma’s past widens the gulf between them. Mrs. Dalal sighs in defeat that she will never know luxury because of her husband’s low-level job. As a woman, she has no ability to change their position and even must ask her husband in order to do something as seemingly minor as getting Boori Ma new quilts. This passage also establishes Mrs. Dalal as Boori Ma’s ally, as she cares enough for Boori Ma to get new bedding for her, despite the fact that Mrs. Dalal’s own life is difficult and her finances are implied to be tight.

The verb “preferred” here implies that Boori Ma makes her own version of the truth—she “prefer[s]” to tie the discomfort to mites rather than the heat, just as she “prefer[s]” her version of her life that she recounts to the other residents.

The loss of Boori Ma’s quilts to nature is pitiful, as she owns very few items. The loss of her quilts means that she will sleep even less than before, as she now must resort to using newspaper. Her lifesavings reappear in the story once again, foreshadowing the events to come.

The visits with the neighbors highlight the fact that Boori Ma is respected in the building. However, she knows she can’t socialize with them as an equal, as the social, economic, regional gap between them is too large. She may be offered a cup of tea, but she is forced by societal expectations to “crouch.” She can neither stand nor sit according to her position as a foreigner, an unprotected woman, and a laborer. Her life is, in fact, one of liminality. Meanwhile, her internal desire for prickly heat powder also returns to her version of the truth. She insisted earlier that the itchiness is due to mites, yet here, she confesses to herself that Mrs. Dalal might have been right.

Mrs. Dalal’s first emotion is not pleasure at her husband’s promotion but exasperation at his gesture. It points toward many years of frustration that have boiled over for Mrs. Dalal. The Dalals have no shame in arguing loudly enough for the entire building to hear. In the midst of the excitement, they forgotten Boori Ma’s new bedding, and she is left sleeping on newspaper once again.

Mr. Dalal’s inner monologue here signifies the shift from complacency to activity. Now that he has a higher status in his employment, he wants his home to reflect as much. As the story is about to reveal, this attitude will be contagious for the other residents. Like Boori Ma, the laborers who install the basin “squat” as she “crouched.” They are implied to be of the same caste, marginalized as workers in a divided society. That Boori Ma rips up her quilts is also significant, as she sacrifices her few belongings for the betterment of the building, suggesting that her life revolves around doing her job well.

The enjoyment of the new convenience is short-lived, as jealousy takes over. This moment highlights the tensions already present among the residents. Good fortune for all is instead twisted into resentment, as one small upgrade has transformed the residents into would-be materialistic social climbers. The departure of Mr. and Mrs. Dalal is significant, Mrs. Dalal seems to be Boori Ma’s only true ally in the building.

Mr. Dalal’s wash basins are a catalyst for change. The wives (significantly, not the “husbands” or “couples”) exchange valuable or priceless items in order to create a materialistic change in the eyes of their neighbors. The story implies that they don’t earn an income outside the home, so the wives’ only avenue to material improvement is selling the few valuables they have accumulated. Status becomes more important than keepsakes.

Boori Ma’s careful daily routine has been completely upended—no sweeping, no chats with Mrs. Dalal, no bedding, no neighborly visits. She is so exhausted from a lack of sleep that her only thought is of the new bedding. She has no other capacity to remember the past, only the relief that has been promised, and she is powerless to change her situation until the Dalals return. It’s significant that when Boori Ma’s keys and remaining money somehow disappear, she feels a pull on her sari—this suggests that someone stole the keys, but it’s also possible that the free end of her sari unknotted itself and the keys fell off.

Before she even returns, the residents are already convinced of Boori Ma’s guilt. She immediately becomes the scapegoat, and her Otherness condemns her. This becomes physically manifested as she stands on the other side of the clothesline. Her private space now physically provides a border between “her” and “them.”

The residents cite Mrs. Misra living alone with her telephone as one of the reasons why the building needs a “real durwan,” conveniently forgetting that she has lived alone with her telephone long before the flurry of improvements took place, and that Boori Ma was more than sufficient as a durwan. It’s also significant that Boori Ma’s usual phrase of “Believe me, don’t believe me” switches to “Believe me, believe me,” as it suggests that she really is telling the truth—the full truth—about the theft. Nonetheless, the residents rewrite the past, or their past impression of Boori Ma, to make her dismissal more convenient. They don’t even listen to her defense but rather warp the past of her embellished memories to justify their aims. They want to appear better in the eyes of others, and Boori Ma is collateral damage.