Unlike this part of the world where I live, when in India you simply cannot have a day without having your doorbell ringing periodically with the familiar stream of helpers to help you get through your everyday chores.
It’s between 5:00 am and 6:00 am in the morning. You’re still stirring in your sleep, while the uncle and aunties are brusquely taking their morning walk. The dew still hasn’t evaporated and the day is yet to begin. Within minutes there is a knock on your door or worse still a single ding dong to break that silence. It’s probably the watchman or “doodhwallah” to drop of your sticky, drippy packets of milk. Of course many of us have gotten smart and leave a basket outside our doors so that the milk can be dropped off without any disturbance.
At around 6:30 am the “newspaperwallah” swiftly flings ‘The Hindu’ at your doorstep and scampers away to other households awaiting the paper with their morning cup of tea or coffee.
Then there is the watchman’s wife (please note that the watchman and his wife are all rounders) who trundles in with three to four hibiscus flowers in colors of red, white or yellow freshly plucked from the compound tree or surreptitiously picked from a neighbor’s tree for your morning pooja.
Somewhere between 7:00 am and 9:00 am while you’re in a frenzy trying to pack off husband and kids, the maid strides into the house. This is maid no 1 who is breezy and extremely focused on finishing the work in the least amount of time with the least amount of effort. She is meant exclusively for washing the clothes, scrubbing the vessels, sweeping and mopping. All done in a jiffy and all done after she has sipped her hot tea.
As she makes her exit, maid no 2 makes her entrance. Now she is only for the top work. Dusting, chopping vegetables, making the second round of tea, folding the clothes, keeping away the vessels and generally hanging around to execute any odds and ends. Sometimes you wonder why you’ve hired her and sometimes you thank God for her looming presence.
At around 8: 00 am the watchman is again at the door demanding the keys of your vehicle, which stands coated with a layer of dust, so that it can be washed and wiped squeaky clean.
Come 10:00 am and the “istriwalla” or ‘ironing man” is tapping his foot with one arm propped on the wall for support, looking around the living room and making small talk with the maid. He counts aloud as he drops your crumpled, wrinkled clothes in a pile. He then bundles them up and hoisting it over his shoulders yells out the number and trudges out.
At around 10:30 am the gardener makes his appearance. Yet another round of tea to be made and served in a steel tumbler( seems like tea is the fuel to get everyone started on their work). He folds his lungi and gets to work in the sweltering midday sun. He potters around for about two hours until noon and has managed to repot, add new soil, water, cut and prune and finally clear up the debris.
At around half past 12 the “sabziwallah” cries out “greens, onions, potatoes, tomatoes…”. Usually he rings your doorbell and tries to entice you with a “fresh” special vegetable. After a few minutes of haggling you walk away with your vegetables and he walks away with his few rupees.
You would think that you would atleast not have anymore visitors after this but invariably there is some minor repair that needs to get done ever so often. So from 1 pm until 5 pm you can have anyone from the plumber to electrician to computer serviceman to TV/Music system serviceman knocking at your door.
So you see, fortunately or unfortunately your aides stream in and out of your household all day long. But the scene abroad is quite a contrast. I long for the doorbell to ring. I reminisce about the barrage of servants, maids, cleaners, dhobis, and all the above mentioned “wallahs” and how domestic help of any kind is a luxury out here and not a part of everyday life.
So while I do cartloads of washing, drying, folding, ironing – cartloads of vessels – scrubbing the bathrooms and toilets – chopping veggies and making my own tea and meals – being extra careful about appliances lest I land myself in a problem, your doorbell is ringing.The “cablewallah” perhaps?
