An integral part of our lives

HIS talent has illumined The Times of India for half a century. Who else but he can compress such telling commentary into such a small space with unfailing humour day after day? To the fans of R. K. Laxman, the Common Man with his inquiring, timid expression is one of the best columns invented in post-independent India.

His autobiography Tunnel of Time, published three years ago, was a compelling account. It drew its charm from the fact that almost everyone is interested in the shaping of an artistic genius.

Laxman's latest book, Servants of India's instant appeal springs from its theme, a quintessentially Indian subject. You read it at one go, the pleasure arising from the fact that it deals with a world we are familiar with and characters whose lives intersect ours everyday.

In Indian upper class and middle class families, servants are indispensable to the smooth functioning of homes. We cannot manage without a servant when we have guests. We cannot manage without them when we have children to take care of. We cannot manage without them when we fall ill. We cannot manage without them under any circumstances and that's the truth. We may spend our time coaxing them, complaining about them or coercing them into submission. But we are obsessed with them. Managing them, feel employers, is a fine art. Pamper them and they grow too big for their own good. Antagonise them and all hell breaks loose. Lose them and our lives our blighted. Turn to your neighbour at any social gathering and you can safely bank on keeping the conversation going about truant maids, recalcitrant cooks and reckless petrol-pinching chaffeurs - the "ingratitude of the whole lot."

But we take the servants (is not the word politically incorrect?) for granted. We are seldom interested in them as individuals or distinct personalities and take no pains to learn about their plans and ambitions, their hopes and desires. They do not have an identity beyond helping lessen our burdens and selfishly we regard them as mere adjuncts.

Laxman's book is an acutely observed and wittily written collection of sketches on these men and women who form an integral part of our lives. Each character is drawn surely and distinctly, his/her idiosyncrasies observed carefully and put down and each one's plot of destiny planned and charted differently yet realistically. The talented cook who dons the grease paint, the enterprising car driver who plies a thriving trade on the side, the rascally servant boy who makes a triumphant comeback, the irascible contract chef who ultimately forgets and forgives. The employer's relationship with the lot comes out clearly. But the stories have an uneven quality. A couple of them have especially good endings while others end abruptly or tamely fizzle out.

The narrative device is as simple as the style and subject matter. When Ganesh, a journalist, has trouble with his servant, his wife Geetha suggests that he write a book on the subject of servants. He proceeds to do exactly that, knitting together his own experiences with those of his friends who flock to him with their accounts when they learn he has embarked on such a project. The servants reflect the South Indian milieu - their names, mannerisms and habits are typically South Indian. The book could more aptly have been named "The Servants of South India." The gallery of characters is so real that you feel as if you had actually employed them in your home. You can recognise them instantly. Swami the cook for instance "who had a habit of leaning against a kitchen doorway and gazing unabashedly at visitors who might have dropped in." How many of us have walked into just such a house or had such a cook? Quite a few, I'm sure.

Our dependence on these props is brought out in quick, satirical strokes and so is the power they wield over us. Geetha is petrified of losing her maid though she drops and dents vessels by the dozen and makes a great clatter in the kitchen disturbing Ganesh's journalistic endeavours. When he admonishes her, Geetha protests and Ganesh subsides into silence. For, a husband's sense of well-being depends on his wife having efficient domestic help.

Laxman records to our amusement the day to day details that make up an employer's relationship with the domestic staff - the endless arguments and counter arguments, the bargains and deals struck between mistress and maid. The chapter on Shanti is so true to life - "I'll wash the vessels but I'll not wipe them dry or arrange them on the rack." And again, "No, madam, I can't dust the furniture and the windows. But I will sweep the floors and make the bed."

With Laxman and Narayan, the humour tinged with irony is ever present. In fact, shades of Narayan are present everywhere. "But, of course, both of them (Ganesh and Geetha) knew they could not dismiss a servant, however bad their work might be. The choice of leaving was always the prerogative of the employee." One has to put up with the whims and tantrums of the domestics, the chorus line being, "Where does one get a replacement these days?"

Gentle barbs are also directed at housewives who are lilies of the valley - they toil not neither do they spin. But whose husbands do not voice their thoughts for the sake of maintaining domestic peace. When his wife is distraught at losing their cook, Ganesh thinks "Why don't you learn to do some useful work instead of visiting friends for gossip and watching films?" And in the story of Parvati, the sad-faced ayah who is devoted to her charge, the mother slowly and happily relinquishes charge. "She spent time visiting friends and going to movies. She also became interested in handicrafts and learnt to make paper flowers, fans and soft toys." She engaged herself in social and charitable activities "cuddling and playing with the child, only and when she was free from her other activities."

The book also pokes fun at a society that is entirely dependent on domestics. The employers of Ramu, the retainer, who is argumentative, lazy, a shirker and liar, are prepared to put up with his endless pranks and mischief. They take the line of least resistance and sweep the matter under the carpet to ensure no disruption in the routine. They promise themselves they will find a substitute each time and never really get down to doing so.

Illustrations are, of course, Laxman's forte and the images you finally carry away are of the scowling catering supervisor, the howling maid, the suave handyman and the glum faced nursemaid.

We read the book happily enough as it deals with a milieu we are familiar with and it makes few demands on us. These sketches are enjoyable and amusing, the style, direct and simple, belongs to the old school. But Laxman's name definitely lends them an aura - would we bestow the same attention on them were they by an unknown writer?

KAUSALYA SANTHANAM

Servants of India, R. K. Laxman,

Penguin Viking Books, India, 2000,

Rs. 195.

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