Home Managers

Some time ago I went to an NGO as I was looking for a domestic help and thought of contacting them before looking for one on my own. I filled out the form and stopped short where they had mentioned them as Home Managers. I raised my eyebrows and the clerk said they preferred to call the maids Home Managers!!

Home Manager? They? Then who are we? I wondered. I thought we managed our houses (or at the most a few interfering husbands did).

I do believe in dignity of labour. I firmly believe that a person earning however petty an amount through whatever kind of honest work is worth a lot more than a person having accumulated riches through dishonest means. I also do not believe in calling them maids...but Home Managers?? That I find ridiculous! They are an integral part of any household and an apt title for them according to me is Domestic Help as they are there to share the burden of household work with the women of the house. They are there to assist but are not allowed to take decisions or do not have any say in matters of the house. Do they still deserve the title of House MANAGERS?

It is good to give manual work, and people doing such work the respect they deserve. Imagine what this place would be without the people who are cleaning the streets. No problem there, but in the process it should also not be forgotten that the title be commensurate with the work profile. What Say?

Identify Yourself, Please!

Yet another phone call, same questions, same answers! "How are you?" "Fine, thank you"

"How is XYZ?" "He is fine too" "And ABC?" By then my head stars spinning...."who is this?" I ask and there is shocked silence at the other end. After a minute or two the connection comes to life again and the bruised voice asks "didn't you recognize me?" The hurt in the voice pains me and I feel guilty for days for not having recognized the caller, but tell me honestly, is it my fault?

Matters get worse when I pick up the phone meant for someone else, of course land line phone where there is no caller ID. I pick up the phone, give adequate replies to all standard courtesy question and hand over the receiver to whoever the caller asks for. As I heave a sigh of relief at having got over an ordeal, the question is paused to me, "Who is it?" I have no other option but to shrug my shoulders to convey that I am at absolute loss to identify the caller.

I have a question to ask to all the callers "why can't you identify yourself when you call?" "Why do you expect others to recognize your voice? When you are not a regular caller, when we do not talk everyday, when I do not get to listen to your voice regularly on radio/television as neither are you a newsreader, nor a leader giving lectures on air, how, tell me how am I going to recognize the sound of your voice?" I entreat you all, I love you all, respect you all but PLEASE make it a habit to identify yourself when you make a call.

I admit I do not have super human powers, I am an average human. I HAVE to be told who you are. I know I am DUMB, but that's the way I am, so please keep this in mind next time you call, and spare me the embarrassment and the feeling of guilt.

Walking That Extra Mile

Yesterday I watched an episode of Star Ya Rockstar on Z TV. Though I did not watch the whole episode, I saw the parts where Sachin and Manasi were singing. The show is about actors, participating in a singing competition. The actors have to find time from their acting schedule to learn the intricacies of singing. They have to step out of their comfort zone no doubt, but the worst part is having Anu Malik as judge. As it is, the participants are doing a great job, but they were asked to sing a song entirely different from the style they were comfortable with……and hats off to the two of them who passed the acid test with flying colours!!! They sang so well inviting applauds from the judges as well as the audience, and they could achieve this feat only because they walked that extra mile..that is what makes them successful, this is what makes them special.

Many of us refuse to walk that extra mile, and that makes us stagnant, we blame our destiny for that. Venturing out of our comfort zone is in itself a difficult task for us, the feeling is akin to that of a child moving out of the house, leaving his family and stepping into a new world when he enters school. And walking THAT extra mile is out of bounds for many, but those who do it, outshine others.

A cook in my house prepares everyday meals for us and if we tell her to make the same vegetable differently, she does it begrudgingly.....and refuses to attempt anything new with "I don't know how to make it". She has enough work to supplement her family income, she balances her home and work perfectly, and she is not willing to add to her burden by trying out more recipes. She neither has the time, nor an inclination to do it. Fair enough. But I know another lady who had to venture out of her home due to necessity, she started cooking for many families, the style of cooking being different everywhere. She adopted the different styles willingly, tried to absorb more and more, learnt various dishes from women in those houses, from magazines and T.V and updated herself continuously. Now she has no time to cook for individual families, she takes orders on a large scale, for parties and other functions, and has prospered. "Lucky" people say. "No" I say....."she walked that extra mile, and that has made all the difference".

The Lost Art

I am here to mourn the loss of a great art, that of letter writing. In this age of SMSes and emails, we are forgetting how our eyes used to light up at the sight of familiar handwriting on envelopes, how we used to wait for days to receive a reply to letters written to various relatives. We no longer do that, not even on special occasions...we send birthday, anniversary, new year wishes through sms, emails…...a standard message for everyone, empty words most of the time, or forwards of messages received.

Yes, emails have taken the place of letters, but it is not the same. It does not give the same feel, does not convey the same sentiments......and it becomes individualistic, the whole family more often than not just gets to hear the gist, and fails to connect with the writer.

I still remember how I used to write letters to all my cousins and wait for the reply. Mere sight of the postman was enough to rouse anticipation. In fact, my cousin's neighbor was a postman and whenever he passed her house, she would rush to the door, stop him, and inquire about her post. At last he got so annoyed that one day he stopped to tell my cousin that since he lived in the same lane, he would be passing her house a number of times in a day, not every time to deliver the posts. And since he had no desire to retain her posts, he would hand over the letters as soon as he receives them. These days courier boys are more common to sight than postman.

Last time I went to visit a cousin, he showed me my old letters written to him over a period of time. It was so touching a gesture......I had never expected they held so much meaning for him. And I have preserved all the cards he sent me because they were oh so beautiful......it was much later that I came to know they were hand painted and not printed.... (Flip side of being such a good artist)!! Letters, when read and reread, can recreate the magic, let you travel back in time and has the capacity to revive a person's spirits. They help strengthen the bond between two people disconnected for several reasons.

In this fast age of technological breakthroughs, it seems this art is now lost forever. It is a lot easier to connect though emails, sms and phone calls, though they cannot touch that core of your heart. I see no possibility of revival of this art.....and can do nothing else but mourn its loss.