Boori Ma is a 64-year-old woman, frail from many years of manual work. She lives and works in a residential building in Calcutta, India. Each day, like the one that begins the story, she sweeps the steps and cleans around the building. As she cleans, she talks about the luxuries of her former life, one that existed before Partition (the division of India and Pakistan into separate countries) when she still lived in Bengal. She claims that she had a husband and four daughters, a two-story house complete with marble floors, and a yard brimming with fruit trees and hibiscus blossoms. She often changes the details in her stories, doubling the size of her estate each time she talks about it and alternating between different versions of how she crossed the border into Calcutta. Boori Ma always ends her stories by saying some variation of “Believe me, don’t believe me, such comforts you cannot even dream them.”
The residents find Boori Ma’s outlandish memories unreliable but thoroughly entertaining, and they respect her work as an unofficial durwan, or “doorkeeper,” for their building. One resident, Mr. Chatterjee, proclaims that Boori Ma spins nothing but lies, but that her stories are harmless and that she’s simply “the victim of changing times.” Mr. Chatterjee has not left his balcony or even opened a newspaper since Independence, but all of the residents greatly respect his opinions.
After performing her morning duties, Boori Ma climbs to the roof to beat her quilts, which she thinks are infested with mites. She complains to a resident named Mrs. Dalal, claiming that the mites are “eating [her] alive” at night, but Mrs. Dalal examines Boori Ma’s skin and finds that she is free of mite bites. Mrs. Dalal suggests that Boori Ma is suffering from a common case of prickly heat, but Boori Ma “prefer[s]” to think that it’s mites rather than something as boring and common as prickly heat. Examining Boori Ma’s worn-out bedding, Mrs. Dalal promises to get the woman new quilts soon.
It begins to rain, and Boori Ma’s quilts are ruined, but she is heartened by Mrs. Dalal’s promise. Shortly after, Mr. Dalal, who works a low-level job for a wholesale manufacturer of toilet parts, returns home with news of a big promotion to management. In celebration, he has purchased two wash basins, one for his home and one for the apartment building to use communally. Though the residents profess some jealousy at the new acquisition, they all jump at the chance to use such a luxury.
When the Dalals leave for vacation, still celebrating their windfall, the other residents find themselves inspired to also make changes to building out of a spirit of competition. They pawn precious heirlooms to paint the building, paint the shutters, and exterminate any pests. However, since the building is full of laborers running up and down the stairs, Boori Ma can’t complete her usual tasks. With more free time on her hands than she knows what to do with—and aching limbs from sleeping on newspapers now that her quilts are ruined—Boori Ma finds that walks around the neighborhood are a balm for her sore body and a good way to pass the time.
One day, as she walks through the market, Boori Ma begins to spend some of her life savings on small treats, like cashews and sugarcane juice. As she wanders deeper and deeper into the market, she feels a tug on the end of her sari and finds that her skeleton keys to the building and lifesavings are gone.
When Boori Ma returns home, the residents are gathered, angry that the community basin has been ripped out of the wall and stolen. They turn on Boori Ma, accusing her of being in cahoots with the thief. Mr. Chatterjee delivers the final verdict, deciding that the building needs a “real durwan.” Despite her protests of innocence—“Believe me, believe me”—they dismiss her from employment and the building, tossing Boori Ma and her belongings out onto the street. She leaves the building, carrying only a broom in her hand.
