Little did I know that finding a house help would be tougher than finding a life partner—and keeping one? Oh, that is an Olympic-level challenge. My hunt began in 2021, fresh into a new home and even fresher out of Cov…

Little did I know that finding a house help would be tougher than finding a life partner—and keeping one? Oh, that is an Olympic-level challenge. My hunt began in 2021, fresh into a new home and even fresher out of Covid paranoia. So I did what any desperate employer would do: word-of-mouth recruitment with spy-level reconnaissance.I’d observe the neighbourhood house helps like a nature documentary narrator: tracking movement, studying patterns, and avoiding the ever-watchful eyes of their employers. I once approached one mid-shift only to be glared at like I was trying to abduct a national treasure. Eventually, I made my pitch like a salesperson with a soft heart: Salary? Negotiable. Workload? Light. Off on Sundays, light duty on Saturdays. Basically, a dream gig. Then came Varalakshmi. Bedecked in gold (true to her name), she arrived like a bride at a wedding – except the only vows exchanged were confusion, cunning, and chaos.Of course one cannot find the ideal house help. I was desperate for some assistance at home. Did she speak the languages known to me? No. Chopping skills? Can hold a knife, so that was good enough. Job role? Sweeping, mopping, dusting, and the main task – sous-chefing! At the end of one month with Varalakshmi, I realised that she would dice the veggies when I needed slices, julienned when she should have grated, and churned when a gentle toss would suffice. I also realised that I was doing half the work and paying her for all of it. I decided to let her go, and she pretended that it was one of the worst things that had happened to her.I saw through the lone tear at the edge of her one eye she instantly produced when I asked her to leave. I took my spying skills to the next level when I found out from the other head-hunter house help that she wasn’t just escaping her home duties – she was also dodging her loud husband by pretending she was off to the temple. Her temple was my kitchen, where she made me work harder than she did. A divine comedy indeed.After this break-up (thankfully, no alimony involved), I found my true love…in technology. My food processor doesn’t talk back, argue, or forget the onions. My vacuum cleaner is at my disposal, so there is no question of it taking off to a native place for her aunt’s grandchild’s puberty party or sister-in-law’s co-sister passing away (all magically aligned with a long weekend). In this ordeal of finding a house help, I learnt that self-help is the best help.

Source: Deccan Herald