Kishore Singh: Summer vacations- Help yourself

These must be acche din," my wife said to her friend Sarla over the phone, "why else would everyone be taking summer vacations?" I knew many of our friends had migrated to Europe for the summer but since this was hardly unusual, my wife's comment seemed unnecessary. But it turned out she wasn't referring to the predictability of her girl gang meeting for its monthly kitty on London's Oxford Street, but of the newly acquired habit of the domestic staff wanting a solstice break.

"The chauffeur wants to take his family to the hills," she had cribbed the previous evening, "does he know there's a water shortage there?" "There's probably a water shortage in his locality here," I pointed out, but my wife wasn't convinced. "Next, he'll want to go shopping to Dubai," she vented, "I think you're paying him too much." My insistence that it was healthy for him to take a trip had little impact. "Now, he'll demand a holiday allowance," she said dramatically, "this is the start of our bure din."
 

I knew she was peeved because the minion-about-the house had taken off for a fortnight - the lower orders mustn't aspire to a holiday - "though, thankfully, only for his village," she admonished me. The gardener had earned her ire too. A chronic absentee, he had applied for a month off to tend to his fields. "If he has to do the same thing," she said, "he should do it here instead of moonlighting in his backyard." The part-time maid had the excuse of a wedding to escape to, and the dhobi had shut shop till the worst heat was past. But what got her was the cook wanting respite from work since that department falls squarely in her jurisdiction. "I told him to go for as long as he likes," she sniffed, "I'll show him I can manage without him."

It did seem unfair that everyone was taking off at a time when the heat was at its peak in the city. "I couldn't deny them permission," my wife explained to Sarla, "good help is difficult to find these days." But she did extract several promises from me. "I can't drive the car," she claimed, "when the steering is too hot to hold." So, on the days she was to go out, I would need to be AWOL from work to escort her to her various rendezvous for which I would have to remain incognito, "because my friends mustn't know we don't have a standby driver".

I would, of course, have to take care of some home chores - walking the dog, for instance, and cooking him fresh meals, or washing the dishes (though she did recommend the use of disposable plates and glasses "for you and the kids", she herself not being inclined to eat off anything but bone china). I could run the washing machine or give our soiled clothes to the laundry - my choice - provided I managed the drop and pick. Since she was allergic to dust, I was to handle the dusting; she's also allergic to pollen, "but I'll do the flowers, honey" she stated by way of sacrifice. The children had some errands assigned, too, but my son begged off citing his escape to the gym as "critical", while my daughter insisted she needed her eight hours of sleep after her night out every night. As for my wife, she said, "I'll manage the food, darling, just hand me the file of takeaway menus."