At Your Service

                Before I came out here, I did a lot of thinking about how I was going to handle situations I was uncomfortable; child labour, sexism etc. One thing that it didn’t even occur to me to consider was how I would deal with servants. I didn’t even realise that people outside of Downton had servants any more. As far as I’m concerned, your parents do your cooking and cleaning until you’re deemed responsible enough to handle a microwave and hoover, and then you’re on your own; it’s the very definition of adulthood.

                And yet here I am, awaiting the delivery of my morning chai and parantha, and mentally apologising to the cleaning lady for the mess we made of the floor picking off our henna last night. I have three meals a day cooked for me and spend every morning attempting to find somewhere to sit where I can dodge the relentless sweeping and mopping (I now appreciate the value magic of carpets; they just absorb all the dust and general urgh and nobody is any the wiser...) Some people might enjoy lazing around while all the household stuff is done for them, but not me.

                Firstly, there’s the independence issue I’ve already mentioned, but there’s more to it than that. I have absolutely no idea how to treat someone who spends a large chunk of every day in the house but isn’t a family member, and it seems that they’re not sure how to treat me, either. Kailash, the cooking lady, and I are great buddies – I try my best to chat with her in my (still) minimal Hindi, and she does a lot of smiling in return (through probably out of sympathy). A sound basis for a friendship, I think. The cleaning lady, on the other hand, won’t even look at me when I give my daily cheery ‘Namaste!’ but rather just continues mopping under my feet.

                Then there’s the added complication of national history; having spent 200 years bossing Indians about, I think we Brits have a real reticence about doing it in our daily lives. I know my family felt the same towards our (black) maid that worked in our villa during a holiday in the Caribbean. On top of that, I just don’t like people touching my stuff. It’s my mess, and I know perfectly well where everything is, thank you very much.

                On the other hand, it is a job. You can look at being a servant as being no different to being a cleaner in a school or a chef in a restaurant, but for me it’s very different to equate what happens within the home with the public sphere.