Love thy maid

The chime of the door bell early in the morning was sweet music to my ears. "God, please let it be Laxmi" I prayed fervently.

Opening the front door, my joy and relief on seeing my housemaid knew no bounds. The anger and exasperation which had been brewing in me vanished within seconds as she made her usual confident and cheerful entry after a "no show" for three days. Keeping my elation under wraps, I made a superhuman effort to remain cool as a cucumber. I had no desire to share my ordeal of what I had gone through during her absence, lest she got a swollen head and a feeling that she was indispensable. One look at the ghastly sight of piled up utensils in the kitchen sink, and the hurriedly swept garbage peeping from the corners, provided me enough incentive to remain calm and poker faced. Moving out of the kitchen, I left Laxmi to sort out the holy mess.

I am fully convinced that a maid is an integral part of my peaceful and comfortable existence. Fully loaded with sermons and counseling sessions by elders and friends, and combined with long years of bitter sweet experiences, I have most proudly bestowed upon myself the self-proclaimed honour of a degree called "M3" i.e. Master of Maid Management. All you need to remember are the golden rules of the "Maid Game". These require high dollops of patience, and a cool and collected temperament (easier said than done).

I strictly follow the first rule of not confronting the maid with unpleasant queries on her absence soon after her arrival. Even if you are livid and ready to climb up a ten feet wall, preserve your grievances for an opportune time. I have learnt the next rule the hard way – that no maid is perfect, and one needs to treat them with kid gloves. Accept a few of her imperfections graciously, and all will be well. An equally important fact to remember is that no maid will work round the clock on a 24/7 basis. There is no harm in pitching in when workload is heavy. At times, a few kind words can go a long way in mellowing down the monotony and drudgery of her domestic chores.

One look at the spick and span kitchen, and brightly polished brass, and I exclaim in complete ecstasy to my husband "I love Laxmi. She's such a doll. Can't do without her even for a single day." Wondering what is the reason for such high voltage jubilation, he utters in total dismay, and with a long face "And what about poor me, am I nowhere on the scene?" Giving him a tight hug, I reply "Darling, don't be jealous. Not to worry, after all you are the next best after Laxmi.