Maid made culture
What would bind India’s middle class like no legislation or levitation?
The price line? Or the waist line?
Weather vagaries or weathering everyday vagaries?
All of this of course but the crowning glory is the Great Dilemma as in Gauramma, Muniamma or what-have-you-amma or bai.
She fills in awkward pauses in conversation, links –mostly hyperlinks- households and generally holds your reins, in rain or sun.
She keeps you chewing your nails in anxious angst even as she nails you for your lack of faith in her.
Indeed, she is Fortune personified-deified perhaps-when she makes a last minute appearance in your abject despair.
Rare is the Indian household which thinks the daily juggernaut can roll without her drive, even when she drives you up the wall.
The Maid Servant, that ubiquitous presence, is truly a multifaceted Indian personality.
She comes in all shapes and sizes, physical and mental, desi and export quality. The slender, fetching one and the real solid type. The fleeting one, the fleecing one. The dodging one, the doggedly devoted one. The mute one, the murmuring one and the downright loudmouth. Rare is an employer who has not lived the experience of changing maid servants-much like changing seasons. The maid servant though, weathers such changes with élan. Not only is she enriched materially, the smart one educates herself as she house-hops. Maybe she character-hops too The previous one was devious but punctual, our friend says, she did not take offs. Taking off, as in a light-winged airplane is the forte of some maids; the sink overflowing with unwashed utensils is mute witness to her whims. My first maid did her work silently but this one is a real nosey parker, complains the neighbour. Silent waters alas, run deep and often flow away carrying valuable baubles, sugar and soap. The nosey one thrives on breaking news which she provides as tax-free service. She knows gossip works like no balm, after those migraine-inducing moments of wait for her. Worse pain awaits you when she reeks of partiality and infidelity. Enough to enlarge your heart when you learn that even while you were pacing about nervously in the upheaval of an un-maid house, she had been sighted working for T-44. The memory of the old clothes you so generously gifted her threatens to strangle you. But not her. It is more likely that she will tell you the next time how a certain family bought her a new sari in sheer gratitude for her work.
Guess it is but a perception shift. You think you are doling out wads and more of notes along with MP-size perks and the Maid is forever focused on that elusive other employer who gives her more, quantitatively and otherwise. You try hard to hold on to your standard but to her you are always a sub-standard commodity. You overlook her sleigh of hand and she overlooks your generosity. Thinks you are downright dumb. The Maid servant arena nurtures your self-pity and constantly engages you to introspection.
Like the Emperor in his new and newer clothes, however, the average Indian household continues its tryst with the New Age Maid Servant. At least she has learnt to use the washing machine and the microwave efficiently. She mops instead of bending down to swab. She is mobile phone enhanced, a blessing- when she is reachable that is.
Wonder why people do not opt for self-help and freedom from such bondage. Why not use the gadgets themselves and breathe free air? After all they are never quite happy with the maid’s cleaning; why not do it themselves, a little imperfectly perhaps but freely? Save the heartaches and avoid the page one news of maid lacing your tea with sedatives and decamping with your wealth. What? You mean we got the new foreign tiles in the kitchen counter and the costly showcase full of curios made to clean and dust them OURSELVES?? Misfortunes befall others, not good sinless souls (like myself).
Yes, it does looks like the typical Indian tryst with trust and credulity is here to stay. Outdoing one’s sense of outrage at the daily hostage-like situation is the made-for-maid culture. From a hot beverage to leftovers for her family, care for her kids, an occasional informal loan of some thousands, a new sari for Diwali, the employer’s heart balances the runaway equation. The new mother away from parents gets home-grown tips from the much experienced maid on child rearing-or tips on cooking. Who needs photo identity and residence proof when the third floor aunty has endorsed Seeta Bai’s impeccable standards?
Ask her and she will tell you how much ‘kitkit’ she has to put up with. Those employers who want the full worth of their precious money always try to extract a little more from her by way of more washing or cleaning. The stingy visiting relative who doesn’t care to tip her. Add to it the ever rising prices and that useless drunkard of a husband forever poaching her secret reserves-of money, emotions and courage.
Courage and allied attributes do not perhaps make ‘domestic help’ an organized paid-by-the-hour industry. Thank god for that! We still like our Seeta Bai colourful-as much in attire as in the many shades of her personality. And our humanity.
The price line? Or the waist line?
Weather vagaries or weathering everyday vagaries?
All of this of course but the crowning glory is the Great Dilemma as in Gauramma, Muniamma or what-have-you-amma or bai.
She fills in awkward pauses in conversation, links –mostly hyperlinks- households and generally holds your reins, in rain or sun.
She keeps you chewing your nails in anxious angst even as she nails you for your lack of faith in her.
Indeed, she is Fortune personified-deified perhaps-when she makes a last minute appearance in your abject despair.
Rare is the Indian household which thinks the daily juggernaut can roll without her drive, even when she drives you up the wall.
The Maid Servant, that ubiquitous presence, is truly a multifaceted Indian personality.
She comes in all shapes and sizes, physical and mental, desi and export quality. The slender, fetching one and the real solid type. The fleeting one, the fleecing one. The dodging one, the doggedly devoted one. The mute one, the murmuring one and the downright loudmouth. Rare is an employer who has not lived the experience of changing maid servants-much like changing seasons. The maid servant though, weathers such changes with élan. Not only is she enriched materially, the smart one educates herself as she house-hops. Maybe she character-hops too The previous one was devious but punctual, our friend says, she did not take offs. Taking off, as in a light-winged airplane is the forte of some maids; the sink overflowing with unwashed utensils is mute witness to her whims. My first maid did her work silently but this one is a real nosey parker, complains the neighbour. Silent waters alas, run deep and often flow away carrying valuable baubles, sugar and soap. The nosey one thrives on breaking news which she provides as tax-free service. She knows gossip works like no balm, after those migraine-inducing moments of wait for her. Worse pain awaits you when she reeks of partiality and infidelity. Enough to enlarge your heart when you learn that even while you were pacing about nervously in the upheaval of an un-maid house, she had been sighted working for T-44. The memory of the old clothes you so generously gifted her threatens to strangle you. But not her. It is more likely that she will tell you the next time how a certain family bought her a new sari in sheer gratitude for her work.
Guess it is but a perception shift. You think you are doling out wads and more of notes along with MP-size perks and the Maid is forever focused on that elusive other employer who gives her more, quantitatively and otherwise. You try hard to hold on to your standard but to her you are always a sub-standard commodity. You overlook her sleigh of hand and she overlooks your generosity. Thinks you are downright dumb. The Maid servant arena nurtures your self-pity and constantly engages you to introspection.
Like the Emperor in his new and newer clothes, however, the average Indian household continues its tryst with the New Age Maid Servant. At least she has learnt to use the washing machine and the microwave efficiently. She mops instead of bending down to swab. She is mobile phone enhanced, a blessing- when she is reachable that is.
Wonder why people do not opt for self-help and freedom from such bondage. Why not use the gadgets themselves and breathe free air? After all they are never quite happy with the maid’s cleaning; why not do it themselves, a little imperfectly perhaps but freely? Save the heartaches and avoid the page one news of maid lacing your tea with sedatives and decamping with your wealth. What? You mean we got the new foreign tiles in the kitchen counter and the costly showcase full of curios made to clean and dust them OURSELVES?? Misfortunes befall others, not good sinless souls (like myself).
Yes, it does looks like the typical Indian tryst with trust and credulity is here to stay. Outdoing one’s sense of outrage at the daily hostage-like situation is the made-for-maid culture. From a hot beverage to leftovers for her family, care for her kids, an occasional informal loan of some thousands, a new sari for Diwali, the employer’s heart balances the runaway equation. The new mother away from parents gets home-grown tips from the much experienced maid on child rearing-or tips on cooking. Who needs photo identity and residence proof when the third floor aunty has endorsed Seeta Bai’s impeccable standards?
Ask her and she will tell you how much ‘kitkit’ she has to put up with. Those employers who want the full worth of their precious money always try to extract a little more from her by way of more washing or cleaning. The stingy visiting relative who doesn’t care to tip her. Add to it the ever rising prices and that useless drunkard of a husband forever poaching her secret reserves-of money, emotions and courage.
Courage and allied attributes do not perhaps make ‘domestic help’ an organized paid-by-the-hour industry. Thank god for that! We still like our Seeta Bai colourful-as much in attire as in the many shades of her personality. And our humanity.
posted by meera @ 7:33 PM
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