Daniel Defoe, in his famous Novel, 'Robinson Crusoe,' immortalizes the 'Master-Servant' relationship between Crusoe and his man Friday. No doubt, the major ingredient for this loyal, trusted, and ideal relationship between Crusoe and his man Friday is indispensability. It is strange but true that in this modern society where, leave alone the indispensability of servants, but the very concept of a servant, is an anachronism.
In my country, India, the memsahibs - be it career-women or housewives with the fancy title of ''homemakers", lean heavily on their 'woman' Fridays. Call them what you like- Ayah, Nanny,Bhai or servant maid, - women- Fridays are the epicenter of the Indian household and keep it from falling apart.
Exaggeration? No..it's nothing but the truth, based on my experience. The weekly, much-awaited, Whatsapp chats from my relatives and friends have stopped completely now. No, not due to Covid 19, but because of the absence of women Fridays. Even before the pandemic, my call from here should be adjusted to the timings of their part-time maids, as each maid allots different times for their work. They work a minimum of three houses ...all adjusting to the working time of their memsahibs!
Despite the progress and liberation of women, India is still a male-dominated society, adhering to Manusmrithi's Principle of the traditional role of a woman as a girl, wife, and mother, necessitating the dependence of women on men. True, times have changed and now the role of a man as the sole bread-winner of a family is only rare, as more and more women take up jobs. But, in spite of the gender- equalityfeminists claim, women are still second class citizens as far as a household is concerned. And It is humanly impossible for any woman to do the multi-tasking of office- work,
cooking ( to enter the heart of the 'Lord and master' of the house ), looking after the children, and keeping the house clean. Naturally, to keep their sanity, women have to depend on this servant class.So,in India, 'Indispensability, thy name is women Friday" ( my apologies to Shakespeare! )
Frankly, I was entirely new to the work culture of the part-time woman Friday, till I had settled in Chennai, South India.
In my childhood growing up in Kerala, we had very loyal, loving, and caring servants. They lived with us and were treated like family members. They cooked our favorite dishes, played with us, and even told bed-time stories to us. I, vividly remember how I used to stay awake with my ' Meenuma' ( respectful addressing of Meenakshi Amma) on UthradaRathry', the night before Onam festival, frying Nenthrakkaichips, cutting vegetables, and scraping coconuts for OnamSadyathe next day.
On Onam day, after cooking, Meenuma would bathe me, dress me up in my Onakkodyfrock, comb my unruly, ear-length hair, skillfully entangle in it a malaof fresh and fragrant jasmine buds, generously apply powder to my face, and put a chandanakurion my forehead. Then she would kiss me and call me EnteSundarykutty, though my pride would be mercilessly shattered by the clapping, laughing of my neighbors, Gracy, Leela, and her brother Thankacchan, calling me names like vellapattaand circus clown, looking at my freshly,over- sparkling white- washed face.
After dressing me for the occasion, she would up in a Zaribordered Munduneriyathuand brush her curly, long hair with a knot at the very end of it, adorn it with the leftover jasmine buds and take leave from a wailing me, assuring me that she would return soon but that she had to rush to receive 'the spirit of King Mahabali', who returns every Onam to visit the rich and the poor alike in their own homes.
Then wiping her tears, she would run off to the bus stop without looking back…………
Later, when I got married to a Naval Officer I moved to Mumbai for a while. Thanks to the demand for space in Mumbai, the 'servant quarters' thatcame attached to our Naval officers' quarters, I was never short of domestic help. True, they could never be compared to my Meenuma, but then again ,they were far superior to my ' Chennai' maids that I had to endure later in life.
When my husband left the Indian Navy and joined the Merchant Marine as a Captain, I had to come to Chennai for children's schooling and continuing my career.
In the '70s in Chennai, I had to face great deal of ethnic discrimination in getting an apartment, which continues even now. Brahmins would not let out their houses to non Brahmins. One Brahmin landlady took 6 months advance rent from me but just a day prior to my moving into the home, she politely asked me to meet her husband who just returned from overseas, saying that he had to meet me to finalize the rental agreement.
So, leaving all my packing (of cooking utensils and crockery) to my seven-year-old daughter, I went to meet the landlord. A pan- chewing, bare-bodied man with a prominently visible, off-whitePoonoolon his chest. He surveyed me with scrutinizing eyes and asked me to sit down. Then without any preliminaries, he said," Sorry, Ma'm, my wife made a mistake and I can not let out my house to a single young lady'. Aghast, I replied that I am not single, have two children and my husband is a Captain of a ship.
Turning his grin into inaudible laughter, he asked unabashedly " What are your eating habits ?". Though I instantly understood the meaning of what he had asked from the rejection of two previous landlords before, I said ' Oh! Do I look like a cannibal? Well, I have normal food habits- breakfast, lunch, tiffin and dinner"
Suddenly, an ugly frown clouded up his face. Throwing his pretense of civility to the winds, he thundered, ' You certainly know what I mean. My wife took you for a vegetarian. Sorry, please leave. I'm in a hurry to meet my client'
The next day my eldest sister-in-law, as old as my mother, came to visit me. Listening to my humiliating experience my sister-in-law, who was not only a vegetarian but also a strict, orthodox Iyengar (she did not touch even garlic and onions!), promised to get a house for me.
Believe it or not, the very next day, my sister-in-law handed me the key to an apartment in the same Brahmin locality, where I was rejected by the Advocate.
In shocking disbelief, I heard my sister in law's narration of how she won over these landlords, who were an old Brahmin couple. The old couple was highly impressed by my sister in law in her red kanjeevarammadisaracoming from an illustrious family background. Though initially, she did not mention her brother's ( my husband's) familywas non- vegetarian, later when my sister in law mentioned the good-natured old couple brushed it aside and dismissed my disqualification saying they were only interested in getting honest tenants who paid their rent regularly.
Next week, my soon -to be- neighbors witnessed a short-haired lady in a different attire ( from their's), with two small kids, unloading things from the car. They were curious onlookers but no one came forward and offered any help! Even when they saw me carrying heavy suitcases to the very narrow veranda single-handedly… !
The next day, very early in the morning, I was woken up by the loud, persistent knock on the front door. I dragged myself to open the door. Behold.. there was a dark middle-aged woman with a charming smile, She greeted me and said that her name was Bhavani . She was my landlord's part-time maid and was willing to work for me.
That was the beginning of my association with this new generation of Chennai women Fridays!
Though started as a part-time maid, she stayed on till late at night and helped me in cooking too. But, on Sundays, she could not come because she has to cook and tend to her alcoholic husband's drinking party with a couple of his friends.Bhavani was fond of children and enjoyed the weekly Tamil movie on our new black and white TV. She even brought her friends to watch TV in our home. Bhavani also used to confide in me about how her husband used to beat her up and take away all the money. And how, at last, due to her prayers and a red-robed Godman's blessings, she managed to get her 16-year-old daughter married off to her own brother without dowry(Yes, even now in Tamilnadu- uncles can marry their own nieces) She even entrusted me with a part of her salary to make a gold chain for her granddaughter. I was aghast to know that this grandmother Bhavani was a year, younger than me! After about six months Bhavani's was elevated from maid to a sort of friend and confidante, which was something similar to Robinson Crusoe and man Friday.
When I got 600 Rs for a short story based on Bhavani's gossip, I gifted her a PattuSareeand a slight rise in her pay. This gradually led to our extended gossip sessions, and ( perhaps an inspiration for me to churn out more stories!).
Though I flatly refused to visit the red- robed ,teacher turned ' God-man', with devotees all over the world, Bhavaniused to narrate this chaami'smiracles. Bhavani told me about the miracle that happened to my milk- lady Chandanam. Chandanamwas the entire locality's milkwoman ( the woman who collects milk from the milk booth to supply in the apartments), She was an ugly, cleft- lipped old woman with a speech defect. But,being a regular,loyal devotee of the God- man, one day she received an anonymous gift of gold coins.'who would've done this miracle except Chaammi who brought gold and silver articles from the air? Chandanam was Chaami's servant for years,when when he was just anelementary School teacher)
Lucky Chandanam bought a house and began a pawn business of lending money for an exorbitant interest. I was surprised to know from Bhavani that all my milk- woman's heavy jewelry- the broad necklace,, bangles, and ear studs and nose rings on both sides of the nose, were real gold ,not fake!!!
Days slip into weeks and weeks into months. Then, one morning I came back after dropping off my children in their school. I was shocked to see an inconsolably crying Bhavani inside my room. The moment she saw me, she started beating her chest and wailing louder. I suspected some horrible tragedy in her daughter's family and waited patiently for her to calm down. After about a few minutes, she cleared her throat and said,' Amma, my purushanhas eloped with that milkwoman"
Controlling my sudden urge to guffaw at this most unexpected turn of events, I said "Cm'on, Bhavani, you got rid of your alcoholic abusive, good -for -nothing husband, we should celebrate this by getting Chinese dinner from the restaurant " Wiping her tears, I heard uBhavani aggressively defending a husband's right to abuse his wife ' Amma, kallanaalumkanavan, pullaanaalumpurushan",
(A saying in Tamil which means a husband is a husband even if he is a stone or grass!!) Though I ignored this as a philosophy of the poor, working-class, in a week's time, I realized that in India, even in the upper strata of Society, an abused wife, physically or mentally, would defend her husband vehemently ( as proved by the infamous case of the handsome married Bollywood actor Shiny Ahuja raping his maid) Anupam Ahuja held press meets, bringing her entire neighborhood to gather and to prove the innocence of her husband. Also during the trial, a grief-stricken Anupam appeared with a placard,' I LOVE YOU', SHINEY'. Huh! What if Ahuja lost his case and film career, his wife is proved to be a pure ' BharatiyaNari'
Similarly, in the Ruchira molestation case, the advocate who defended the police bigwig Rathore, was Mrs Rathore, the accused's ,loyal wife!
A couple of days later, after her Tuesday visit to Ashram, Bhavani displayed her new brilliant yellow thread with mangalsutraand a square piece of Turmeric with kumkumand bindi , as Chaami'sremedy for her husband's safe return and long life. For doing special puja and the yellow thread, Chaamicharged only 100 Rs!
Bhavani was overjoyed at Chaamis prediction that her husband would soon return to her but her happiness was short-lived as the gossip spread that Bhavani'spurushanwas marrying Chandanam. Bhavani cried, cursed Chandanam's black magic which endeared her purushanwho was just 32 to Chandanam, a positively ugly in her mid sixty.
Strangely, a vindictive Bhavani constantly cursed Chandanam and justified herloving,loyalpurushan, an innocent victim of strong black magic.And the scorn woman's fury,love to her husband,tremendous faith in God- man increased to a ridiculous extent.And much to my annoyance,shestarted visiting herGod twice ,Tuesday and Thursday in blood red sari,a real eye- sore like her Red- dhothi clad Chaaami .
At last, one night Bhavani's husband reappeared on the scene, much to her relief. A jubilant wife received her repentant purushanreturned to her with sweets, flowers, white- stone and of course promises of his 'eternal love and everlasting fidelity' like Florentino Ariza to FeminaDazza in 'Love in the Time of Cholera.'
The very next morning, an over-joyed Bhavani celebrated the reunion (A mma, didn't I tell you what Chaami predicted? Remember, he told me that he will return within 41 days' of my wearing what Chammi gave after a days' Puja? " she then took her mangal sutra and touched her eyes with extreme reverence.
When this Mardi Gras of Bhavani's life, an unrecognizable Chandanam in a torn sari sans all her jewelry, unraveled her romance which cost all her jewelry and money. She agreed they had a great time in Madurai, with drinks, non-vegetarian food, sightseeing and watching movies. Once the money was over, that saniyandumped her mercilessly near Meenakshi temple and disappeared.
But soonBhavani would move out to another locality to start her new- found romantic life and my hunt for new woman Friday began...
There was a new growing breed of part-time Fridays taking up as many as four houses a day, doing less work for much higher pay, taking leave often, and a day off in the middle of the week!
I certainly missed my previous association with maids who were loyal, lovable, and very friendly.
But the addition of two more members to my family, Tommy, and Diana, a Doberman couple made it almost impossible to get servants as everyone was mortally afraid of the formidable look of my pets. So, I had to put up with a maximum of an hour's shoddy work of a maid, as I hated to tie down my Tommy and Diana for more than an hour!
Then, one morning, a good-looking woman with a bright green sari walked in braving my pets, asking me whether she could take some coconut fronds from the heap in my yard, for making brooms. Looking at my shocked face, she told me she was not afraid of dogs, as she grew up with dogs and loved them.
I was ecstatic when Rani agreed to work for me, without the knowledge of her prosperous, painter husband, for extra money for Pattusarees and jewelry Rani was the most suitable name for her, clad in bright-colored synthetic- sari,matching accessories etc, the good- looking maid looked every inch a Rani. She made it very clear that she did not want tea or any type of food from my house because she wants only cash. I was impressed by the way she did things methodically. As soon as she came, she changed into a housecoat, finish housework in a jiffy but neatly and then, go to the shade of my backyard Gulmohar tree for her broom- making. Some times, I too watched with admiration and even envy, how Rani's skill and dexterity in turning the fronds into beautiful brooms. Rani used to accompany me during my shopping and buy for herself, exactly what I bought, mutton, chicken, kingfish.
Rani's business progressed tremendously because of the availability of coconut fronds from my 15 trees and many customers from the club, nearby Schools, and apartments. The heap of waste coconut leaves which Rani threw near my gate was an embarrassment to me as friends and neighbors started calling me the owner of the' broom factory'. But, I stoically bore this, because by then I was so much used to this perfect life with my woman Friday
Then one day Rani came, crying uncontrollably. I was mentally preparing myself for another husband-eloping story even though Rani had portrayed her husband as a teetotaler, loving and generous husband whose only problem was his possessive nature resulting in the occasional beating. From Rani, I learned a Tamil saying ' Adikirra kai thaanannaikkum', meaning 'Only the beating hands would caress'
Suddenly words tumbled out from Rani along with the liberal flow of tears. The Police arrested her innocent husband for stealing ...She wanted me to save him from police custody as I could convince the Police by telling them that he served me as a night watchman. It was of course a half-truth as he used to sleep on my veranda when I traveled out of state from time to time, to Kerala. Further, he allowed his wife to 'help me out' with all these household chores. Though extremely reluctant, I was rather forced to go to the Police station when Rani's initial request tone was replaced by a threatening hint of leaving my work.
In the Police station, seated on a chair and sipping the 'Police tea' , I expressed my anger towards police brutality towards my honest, sincere watchman, a painter with a decent income.
The earlier frown on the Police Officer's face turned into a broad smile ( Aha. My eloquence has desired effect, I thought to myself) He told Rani to go away as he had to clarify certain matters from me.
When Rani left, the Officer took me to the adjacent room where Ganesh, Rani's husband,was questioned. I could not believe my ears when I overheard him rattling the names of his accomplices, the locality, number and addresses of the looted houses, and the list of stolen articles, Color TV, gold and silver articles, motor. Cycles etc
Apologizing to the police officer profusely for my interference, I rushed home to share with Rani, the shocking news of her husband's extracurricular activities. Fiercely defending her husband she blamed his jealous, jobless painters and neighbors for the false allegations. Not satisfied with this, she had the audacity to call me 'ungratefulis this the way you repay me for doing your work ,giving you my brooms free, for accompanying you for shopping and even doing your menial work ,when none enters your house due to your filthy dogs?) Rani yelled ……..
To my utter grief, tongue-tied, I handed over the amount she demanded as her pay and watched an enraged Rani storming out of my house and out of my world!
Then came Selvi a terribly squint-eyed, thin, young woman Selvi filled the gnawing gap of Rani. Wiry, but extremely energetic and speedy, Selvi was an excellent worker. sitting on haunches, she would swab all my rooms to a perfect shine. She learned to operate the washing machine and other electric gadgets. She starched and ironed my cotton saris with lightning speed. As she was an eighth-grade school drop out, she could speak English too. But, the only problem was her time allotted to my work. She had to work full time in a Ceylonese house not only cooking but all other work too. So, she could attend to my work only between 2and 3 pm and between 7 and 8 pm.
After watching Selvi's most impressive work and her love towards me (you are my mother, though I have only a vague memory of her, she was as fair as you ) I thought my adjustment to her time was only a small price to pay for her excellent work .
Listening to her sob story of being married off to an old widower,by her distant uncle, her husband died by falling from a coconut tree.
Thus orphaned, she managed to join the Ceylonese family who lent her 5,000 Rs for repairing her one-room thatched hut. Now she had to repay this loan and the pay she gets from, me was just enough to pay the interest for the loan.
Kindled by my old passion for Karl Marx, intolerance to injustice and inequality,( also the young lady is not allowed to wear bright colors ,flowers on their hair ,wear bangles ,fancy jewelry,or even bindi ban on participating in functions etc, proclaiming her 'widow' status , I became generous to a fault, gave her the discarded, flashy sarees of my daughter, gifted her with bangles and multi-colored bangles , though) gave her nutritious food, etc etc. Guilted by my own comfortable life while Selvi had to toil the whole day, on one sleepless night, my feverish brain solved Selvi's money problem. I gave her an advance of 5,000 Rs, on the condition that Selvi would join me as a full-time maid... no, as a family member... like my Meenuma of Kottayam.
When I handed over the cash, Selvi touched my feet and literally cried on my shoulder
A few days later, Selvi came to tell me she could not work as she had developed severe pain in her jaw. Refusing my offer to take her to the Doctor, she left, that night, in between groans and grunts, that she informed me that she had 'mumps' and her only worry was how I was going to manage to do all the work without her assistance.
After more than a weeks' waiting about Selvi's news, I thought I would enquire about Selvi. Suddenly, a horrifying realization came to me that I did not know her address except she worked in the Ceylonese house whose address I never knew either.
While re-living the scene of my giving 5,000 Rs, I remembered she had brought me some fruits and said it.. was her Offering to her SreeDevi Goddess( me! ) Also, Selvi had mentioned that the fruit vendor, a charming old woman was shocked to know about my incredible generosity of giving a maid such a huge amount within a fortnight of her appointment
So with great difficulty, I managed to find this fruit- vendor, who had an entirely different story. She did not know anything about our financial transaction, Selvi's real name was Mahalakshmi, who lived with her paramour, a smuggler who was in and out of Jail frequently!......................
In India, stay at home wives are very rare. More and more women take up jobs to share the financial burden of their husbands. But, that does not mean that husbands share their household chores. It is a pity Indian men imitate the west, celebrate Valentine's Day, Mothers Day, and Father's day, but they do not lend a helping hand in cooking or cleaning or with the feeding or changing nappies of their newborns.
This Pandemic is the ideal time for Indian men to realize their responsibility and start taking an active part in household chores. And it's time they take a cue from the husband of Kamala Harris the first female and half Indian Vice President of the United States, who gave up his job to assist his Wife in her vice- Presidential duties!
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