Maid Tales; Decoding our domestic staff

This morning, on my way back from dropping kids to school, I sat back in the car, staring out of the window aimlessly, taking in the early morning view of the cityscape. Mornings have a strange way of filling you up with hope; the cars zipping by busily, some dog walkers on the stroll, beautiful flowers heralding spring outside houses. Yet the one thing that struck me the most this morning was the large number of domestic workers I saw starting their day.

This work force was out and about in hordes rushing around the posh locality. Duppattas wrapped tightly around them, clutching their small and worn out bags or wallets, they strode on purposefully. Each one headed to their respective employer’s house, with a long and hard day of toil awaiting them.  Locally, termed as Massi or Kaam Wali, or most most recently upgraded to the term maids, these domestic workers lead quite a sad existence. They cook, clean, wash, sweep and serve and yet they are almost an invisible part of the society. It’s quite interesting and I wonder often how these beautiful mansions with perfectly manicured lawns would function even for a day if not for this amazing work force?

However, unfortunately, the way we treat them leaves much to be desired. Minimal wages, long hours and mostly harsh treatment by the employers are just the surface issues. The biggest problem remains their unequal status as a human being, where we believe that just because they are born economically lesser than us they are lesser humans and deserve no respect and rights! They can cook for us but not eat with us, they can take care of our kids but not share the same sofa or chairs with us.

Their constant woes of poverty and demands for small loans or monetary help, provides fodder for our coffee morning conversation. Without us realizing for a moment that this probably is what their life is; problems and more problems.  We think we outsmart them by not granting them the miniscule loan they asked for in lieu of their niece’s wedding in the village. Maybe its true in cases, they were probably lying and we very shrewdly saw through the lie. However, what’s really heart wrenching is that the much discussed and rejected loan was the amount equivalent to the bill we pick up at the local café for a coffee morning without batting an eye lid. Maybe the money wasn’t actually going towards the cause stated, but one can say with much conviction that surely it must be a cause worthier than the Bullet Proof Coffees and Avacado Salads ordered for our gossip sessions.