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| Sunday, 1 February 2004 |
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Features |  |
| News Business Features Editorial
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Life with William by Carol Aloysius
It was only when he gave a timid cough that I noticed the small emaciated frame silhouetted against the kitchen door. "I am the new cook", he announced. "I was told you needed a kitchen help. I have come to help you." Scarcely looking at him, but nevertheless thankful to have assistance, I asked him if he could help me clear the garbage I had unearthed from various hidden corners of the kitchen. He responded by setting down his battered old suitcase, rolling up his sleeves and tucking up his sarong. Then taking the broom from my hands, he began sweeping with a vengeance, crushing the occasional cockroach which ran out of a dark corner, triumphantly with his slipper. Half an hour later when we had sprinkled the newly scrubbed kitchen floor and mopped the floor thoroughly, we decided to call it a day. It was then that I took a good look at my new Man Friday. My heart sank when I looked at him closely. Instead of fifty seven years which was the age he gave me, he looked closer to seventy, his hair badly dyed and his bones sticking out of his thin frame. No. He didn't fit the picture of my ideal Man Friday. He was too frail. Too old, and probably too set in his ways. I would simply have to find another servant. I took out a hundred rupee note to thank him for helping me clean the kitchen and was about to dismiss him when he stopped me. "Lady, I am a former harbour worker and am used to hard work. I may look old and feeble but I can do anything you want", he said as if reading my thoughts. "I can cook, sweep, and even wash your car if you wish. Please give me a chance to prove myself". I hesitated, torn between an urgent need to hire him and relieve me of my household chores and a nagging doubt as to whether he could actually deliver the goods. Sensing his desperation to find a job, I decided to throw caution to the winds and take him at his word. "Thank you lady. You won't regret hiring me", he said, with a relieved smile quickly making his way to the servant's room before I could change my mind. He returned ten minuets later in his workaday clothes of a faded sarong and banian, ready to do my slightest bidding. That night we not only had a clean and sparkling home, but a delicious dinner of pittu, katta sambol and a spicy pork curry, followed by a special dessert created by our new Man Friday. We were impressed to put it mildly and I hoped he would continue to perform as well during the rest of his stay with us. Today, eight years later, despite thousands of threats by him to leave without notice (`mama danmama yanawa' he would daily threaten after one of our eternal battles of will), William is still with us. No longer the timid servile servant, he has now literally taken over our lives. Our regular visitors have stopped paying us unexpected visits because he refuses to answer telephone calls or open the front door for them. When we go out for a night function William never fails to remind us that curfew time is ten 10'clock - "or else I will not open the door". Up at the crack of dawn, William has taken on himself the task of waking us up by banging on the door of rooms to bring in our bed tea. "Wake up or you will be late for work", he yells making a noisy clatter with the cup and saucer to make sure we rise and shine. An ardent cricket fan he refuses to cook or even shave when one of the Test cricket matches are being played, rattling off the scores to every passer by as he sits glued to the television. He even takes bets with our neighbour's driver as to which team would win and grumbles when he loses. Once the queen of the kitchen, today it is William who lords over my pots and pans and reigns supreme over my kitchen as he stands over my gleaming gas cooker baking, cooking, frying and churning out mouth watering dishes, I could never have created in my wildest dreams. The fact that my sons and visitors actually prefer his cooking to mine has left me with a huge inferiority complex. Although I was once considered a super cook I no longer dare try to compete with William's gourmet cooking. Even my pet dog Socks who adored me, has now switched her affections - you can guess to whom - William of course! Nowadays, when I offer her a bone or a tasty morsel of meat, instead of eagerly jumping up for it with an excited bark, she turns her head disdainfully, waiting for her new master to feed her. In April this year, it will be exactly nine years since William intruded into our lives. The passing years however have had little toll on him and he insists that he is still the same age (57) as when I first hired him, no matter who contradicts him. As for me, I have long given up trying to wrest the role of Household Manager from William, and am content to let him wield his authority over my household and kitchen as long as he does it as efficiently as he has been doing all these years. After all he hasn't done a bad job of it and more importantly given me the free time I badly needed, I muse as I see him pottering around the garden, whistling to himself as he washes my car... Perhaps one day when he admits that age has caught up with him and decides to quit of his own free will, I shall finally be able to re-claim my kitchen and take charge of my life as well... Till then I am content to say, "Carry on William". |
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| Editorial | Security Produced by Lake House |
I was buried in a cloud of dust, surrounded by pots, pans and other
kitchen utensils, busy throwing out empty bottles and broken plates as I
spring cleaned my kitchen one Saturday morning when he arrived at the
kitchen door.
