The 'Bai' Commandments

Childhood is always a very carefree and inhibited time in all our lives; and this inhibition pervades even in the way we talked to everyone. Manners and etiquette were taught early in life but somehow, we never used them much and continued speaking our minds, no matter what. Of course, most normal people would realise that this isn't how we are supposed to act and augment their actions to be more courteous and socially acceptable. But then, I've never been able to fall under the category of 'normal' under any circumstances...
When I was 7 years old, my mother asked me to clean and lay the table with place mats. Now, unlike other mothers, mine believed that no child is too young to learn how to be independent and must learn to contribute to the household chores, be it through cleaning, laying the table or conversing with those who ring the doorbell. Me, being the perennial lack-wit, got angry and thought I could hit home as to what I thought was 'child labour' by saying, "Am I your servant?!" My mother looked at me for a few seconds, burst out laughing and told me to just lay the table. Not the greatest victory then, I guess.
But the concept of a servant is something we are so used to now that we cannot seem to live our lives without them. Society, being ever so pseudo-caring, decided that 'servant' doesn't have a very positive ring to it, and so replaced it by a number of different terms, foremost of which being 'the Bai'. Each region does have its own term for the 'labour class', but the universal term tends to be 'Bai' (in borrowing from Maharashtra, home of everything Indian and Bollywood...apparently). Now, every household has one (or maybe more) and those who don't are marvelled at their ability to still keep living without falling dead from exhaustion. There are certain parameters that every 'bai' must qualify in order to be allowed to work in a house hold. I would like to call them the Five Commandments:

• Thou shalt not steal from thy owner's house (my mom's major concern over work even)
• Thou shalt not take leave unnecessarily.
• Thou shalt not ask for unreasonable (very subjective, of course) amounts of money in lieu of thy services.
• Thou shalt clean thoroughly and to the owner's satisfaction.
• Thou shalt not flirt with the husband of the house.

Each and every one of these Commandments must be strictly adhered to, no questions asked. There are always exceptions to both owners and Bais, but they are very rare cases. The 'bai' who comes to my house recently quit as she could not adhere to my mother's strict standards and so, the work has been demoted to the rest of the family. It's only when you dry your own clothes, sweep the entire house, wipe it dry and cook that you realise how much respect must actually be given to these women who do so day in and day out. So, as my mother goes mad searching for another person who is willing to work here, I am left scrubbing vessels and stacking clothes. Now, I wonder where the soap powder is...

Çiao!

On the Trail of Ground-nut-Man

I’m a very big monsoon person and love the rain, though getting wet is something I’m not too fond of. But then, I’ve proved that getting wet doesn’t actually give you a cold, even though my mother still isn’t sold on the idea. Science does have its limitations apparently, seeing how nothing in the world seems to be able to displace my mother’s logic. This despite her being a doctor…

But the main reason why I love the monsoon is due to the coming of one of the most successful entrepreneur (in my opinion, at least): the boiled groundnut vendor. Boiled groundnuts are something I wait every year for since it symbolises a cherished part of my childhood. As far as I can remember, I’ve always been slightly more excited about these little nuts than anyone I know, for reasons that escape me as usual. I still remember how I bonded with one of my cousins with whom I had never spoken more than 10 words in my entire childhood over a humongous pile of boiled groundnuts during a power outage on a swing at my aunt’s place. For some reason, the darkness accentuated the taste of the nuts and ever since then, I’ve always associated groundnuts to this memory.

Now, to the rest of the world, getting a packet of groundnuts only involves walking out of their homes and buying some from the closest vendor. But then, things are never that simple around me. The minute I decide that I would like to have some, the vendor vanishes. It becomes a sort of quest to find him, almost like trying to find a nomad in a desert. My desire for groundnuts usually goes unfulfilled on most days since I can never find him. So, in an effort to defy the laws of Fate that seem to be set against me, I carefully leave my mind blank when I approach a constant haunt of one of the vendors and try as much as possible not to think about groundnuts. Over the past few months of the monsoon season, I have succeeded and failed equally but the salt of those steaming little treasures calls me to keep my spirits up and push forward. And so as winter comes, I wait for next year when I shall once again begin my quest on the trail of Ground-nut-man… 

Coffee or Tea: The Quintissential Question

This a speech I made from almost 3 years ago. To this day, this remains the only time I've ever gone up on stage and never had a mini-heart attck or the need to faint within 5 seconds. Despite my many eccentricities, I have unfortunately never been able to quite get over stage-fright...

The English, being the snobs that they are, have their own little world of rules. While some govern the etiquette of speaking and walking, others deal with which side of the road to drive on. But one of the most interesting facts about them is their mind analyses the answer to the question, “Tea or Coffee?”. If the answer is tea, then all is well and it is decided that the speaker is sophisticated enough to grace the company present. But if the answer is coffee, then you are in for a rude shock. The immediate assumption become that you are one of the lowest of the low, uncouth and disgraceful. You become so repulsive that the English hurl their worst moniker at you; American. The horror this instills in one versed in the English ways is unbearable. There have been reports of people being driven to madness by the inherent embarrassment and shame. So never underestimate the power of this Brazilian bean; it may help you stay awake but it can also be a death warrant if ever seen on English shores. Tea lovers, rejoice; for there may still be hope to revive the dying interest in tea. Now, as I sit with a cup of both tea and coffee before me, I ask you; is it right to be asked to choose between energy and sophistication? You be the judge.