1.
A maid is an integral part of any self-respecting Indian household. There are the full-time maids who reside with the family and there are the ‘top-women’ or part time maids who flounce in and out of our house at what we term as Indian stretchable time. The top women generally do the dishes, mop the floor and wash utensils at a speed that may even defy the speed of lightning. Yes, you can’t live with them and you can’t live without them.
My pet peeve is that my maid neglects to inform me of her impending absence. She owns a cell phone; I own a cell phone. I have requested her to at least give me a missed call. I can return the call and hear her a familiar,”I will not come to work today.” So after a lot of ranting and raving she deigns to agree to give me that missed call. I must add that still the missed call is as often missed as she is from work.
One Thursday, as the clock ticks on,on my maid my eyes don’t set upon. Thursday gives way to Friday and then Saturday it is. No sign whatsoever. Not a peep. I find the missing lady pottering around the house like business as usual when I return home after Sunday morning mass.
“How can you?” I yell. “How can you do this to me? Three whole days have passed and not a whisper.” She mutters something about an injured foot. “You should have at least given me that missed call,” I say. ”My phone is not working,” she responds. “Why don’t you use your husband’s phone?” I say. ”The numbers are all saved in my phone”. I turn away exasperated, vowing a major pay cut.
An uneasy calm descends for the next few days until she breaks the ice with small talk which eventually leads to a heart-to-heart on her son’s impending board exams and, like any other mother, I find that she too experiences doubts and fears. Déjà vu. Didn’t I spend a few sleepless nights a year ago, storming heaven…? My heart goes out to her. The boy has to walk a long way every night to fetch water for his family’s daily needs. The whole exercise takes him about an hour. His father, not quite fit after an illness, is of little or no help. His siblings now share the unenviable task.
A few days into the exams, I receive a frantic call from her. “My son has misplaced his hall ticket.” ”Doesn’t he have a xerox? Send him with it,” I shout back. Luckily he is allowed to answer the paper on the basis of the xerox copy. The next day she is missing again. I call her, her daughter picks up.Mummmy has gone to school to look into the matter of the missing hall ticket.” “Will she come to work? I ask.“I don’t know… She will not come.” the reply.”Why did she not inform me”? Silence at the other end. In the background a teetering pile of dishes seem to mock my helplessness. I am enraged because yet again she has failed to turn up or inform me of her absence. How can I take her to task in such a situation? The hall ticket has been carelessly left behind by the boy in the school centre and carefully kept by a peon who hands it over to mother and son the next day.My pet peeve is that my maid neglects to inform me of her impending absence. She owns a cell phone; I own a cell phone. I have requested her to at least give me a missed call. I can return the call and hear her a familiar,”I will not come to work today.” So after a lot of ranting and raving she deigns to agree to give me that missed call. I must add that still the missed call is as often missed as she is from work.
One Thursday, as the clock ticks on,on my maid my eyes don’t set upon. Thursday gives way to Friday and then Saturday it is. No sign whatsoever. Not a peep. I find the missing lady pottering around the house like business as usual when I return home after Sunday morning mass.
“How can you?” I yell. “How can you do this to me? Three whole days have passed and not a whisper.” She mutters something about an injured foot. “You should have at least given me that missed call,” I say. ”My phone is not working,” she responds. “Why don’t you use your husband’s phone?” I say. ”The numbers are all saved in my phone”. I turn away exasperated, vowing a major pay cut.
An uneasy calm descends for the next few days until she breaks the ice with small talk which eventually leads to a heart-to-heart on her son’s impending board exams and, like any other mother, I find that she too experiences doubts and fears. Déjà vu. Didn’t I spend a few sleepless nights a year ago, storming heaven…? My heart goes out to her. The boy has to walk a long way every night to fetch water for his family’s daily needs. The whole exercise takes him about an hour. His father, not quite fit after an illness, is of little or no help. His siblings now share the unenviable task.
I am one confused “Aunty”. I shut tight both my eyes to the quality of her work. Constantly reprimanding her would leave me with no choice but to take on her tasks myself. I am always threatening her with dire consequences like a replacement or major pay cuts. On payday my heart of stone turns to putty and I find myself handing her a nice fat pay packet. I can rant and rave and threaten all I want but a few missed calls will always be missing and my stony heart will always magically turn to one of gold.
And we’re back to square one.
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