Marriages are maid in heaven

<div class="section1"><div class="Normal">The case of the kidnapped Delhi toddler has ended in tears of joy, but every working couple is routinely held to ransom by its maid. We all sign a Faustian contract when we draw a stranger into the most intimate circle of our lives. <br /><br />What choice do we have? The ‘majboori’ is more ours than that of its conventional claimant.I''ve been in the predicament of my younger colleagues. When I see them reporting to work wild-eyed and distraught, I know that Lily, Milly or some other domestic filly has left them to get hitched or a hike in pay. Conversely, when I see them striding into office with a swing to their hips and a hum on their lips, I know that a replacement has been found. <br />Or even better. Lily, Milly, etc is back. She probably got a standing ovation from Papa, Mummy, pining baby, Pomeranian, and no doubt leering Ramu next door. <br /><br />Arguably, her return to another term with the family was more applauded than George Bush''s state of the union address. And why not? The state of the marital union is largely dependent on the maid. As is Little Pia''s inclination to finish her pudding. Or start with her ‘pottie''. <br />No one who has had to balance home, career, social life and Atkins diet will accuse me of exaggeration. They know that the trained help is the nuclear family''s single largest cause of fusion — and fission. Domestic equilibrium is maid-dependent. And, like all addictions, it leads to substantial abuse — and withdrawal symptoms both pathological and pathetic. <br /><br />The relationship between householder and the Lily-Milly form of branded labour is a highly complex one, and deserves a major socio-ethnographic study. The paradigm is completely different from the conventional exploitation which exercises the mismatched-choli-and matching-jholi genre of NGO conferences. The e-word here is empowerment, and it''s the inevitable by-product of the BPO of homemaking, an issue as emotional as commercial. <br /><br /></div> </div><div class="section2"><div class="Normal">These young women have pulled themselves out of their penurious past, and discovered the advancement that lies in learning to stuff a duck or pluck eyebrows. With the determination of the hostess climbing from paneer to tofu, they move from their dialects to English to even French. The more they upgrade their skills, the more they downgrade their employer''s side of the equation. The more they increase their arsenal of competence, the more they reduce us to dysfunctional wrecks every time they decide to take their talents and their make-up kits to better perks. Byzantine manipulation is resorted to in stealing a maid; grovelling capitulation is resorted to in retaining her. <br /><br />Our outrage may be distorted by snobbery, these girls may be the totem of class reversal, but there''s no escaping the fact that the empowerment of the career woman is inextricably linked to that of her maid. My colleague, Indrani, couldn''t rush off to this week''s hot spot because — calamity! — Lucy was on leave. It had a domino effect, throwing the whole team into disarray. <br /><br />You can only watch in apoplectic helplessness. How can you argue with the emotional quotient which makes this relationship so unique, so special, so infuriating, so damningly one-sided. <br /><br />**************<br /><br />What did the Congress sing to Parrikar, "Go from Goa, go from Goa, Goa amchi ahe."<br /><br />(<span style="" font-style:="" italic="">Juggling Act and Erratica, compilations of best of Jugular Vein and Erratica now available at leading bookstores. Or log on to www.books.indiatimes.com</span>)</div> </div>