Deep Ties

A sea of faces loomed in front of me, as I stood on the stage, the microphone before me. I was in the ninth standard and just about to recite Mark Antony’s famous speech at Caesar’s funeral. Flashback: My grandfather sat before me, nodding as I proclaimed, “Friends, Romans, Countrymen...” and went through the speech with nary a pause. “Slow down, child! It is a funeral oration, not a train that you have to catch!” I was living with my paternal grandparents as my Army Dad had been posted in a remote place somewhere in the East of India (locations were not to be disclosed!). Being the eldest grandchild, I was pampered silly and made to feel like a princess. My grandma made sure that I ate well, so well that ‘I just growed and growed’ as Topsy did in Uncle Tom’s Cabin. We had our own cows, and I could never refuse the soft fresh slices of bread liberally coated with white butter and sprinkled with sugar. (If you haven’t tried it, you have missed a slice of Paradise!) ...

Those were the days when every household could boast of three to four maids, to sweep and swab, cook and wash, dust and clean respectively. Today the old maids have retired and they have educated their children who obviously want nothing to do with menial jobs. The ubiquitous maid is now no longer that! Even carrying bricks at a construction site brings in more money, and the more educated folks are, the higher their aspirations, laudable indeed! So the few rare maid specimens left behind have suddenly realized their worth. They have hiked up their prices, willing to shoulder the burdens of their predecessors only if they are paid for each separate chore. No longer are the lady of the house and her maid 'made' for each other, for even with compromises made, there lingers a strange kind of friction that causes frequent sparks! My friend has a maid who has stuck to her for five years, but plays a cat-and-mouse game with her, despite the familiarity. Did anyone mention t...