My mom and aunt have had the strangest luck with maids. While one spoke of a husband who was the exact replica of a popular matinee idol, another mastered the art of dumb charades to communicate with my mom. Some imagined they were beauties and some others worked in the strangest of ways. But all of them hoped that some day life would take a different course. But for us, they remained teatime tales that we shared with amused friends, who always enjoyed a good laugh.

As soon as my parents were married, they moved to Hyderabad and Mom was faced with a maid who spoke only Hindi. Equipped with English and a smattering of Malayalam, Mom struggled for days to communicate with her equally troubled maid. But soon they were having fun communicating with symbols. When the maid came in the morning, my mom began the game of dumb charades, explaining what all had to be done. These sessions got funnier when one morning the maid tried telling Mom that she was constipated, and that she needed some medicine. The signs weren't working, so she called Mom to the bathroom, squatted and said pathetically, "Nahin Aatha." Fortunately, Mom picked up some Hindi afterwards.

When I was born, Mom employed a young girl to help her out. Despite intense de-worming and twice-a-day baths, the girl wasn't allowed to carry me. She was to do all the other work, so that Mom could look after the baby fulltime.

Annamma was a Malayalee maid from a little village in Kerala. She was brought to Calcutta to my aunt's house where there were three other servants. However, in no time, she became leader of the troupe as she could speak Malayalam, English, Hindi and some broken Bengali. She was a great cook and so she did a lot of the cooking too. The others did the sweeping, wiping and the laundry. And when Annamma felt the need for some beauty treatment, they would only be too pleased to grind all the necessary ingredients into a smooth paste. (Her best friend was another young girl who indulged in brushing her teeth seven times a day. It was fascinating to watch someone who cleaned teeth with such vengeance.)

Annamma didn't like her name, and insisted that everyone call her Florence. She was in favour of change and made sure her sister's daughter had an equally fancy name - Jennifer. An enterprising character, she sang nursery rhymes to me (she wasn't allowed to touch me for a long time) after her work. And when I was fast asleep, she would tell Mom about the rich engineer that she dreamt of each time. She fancied a rich husband and a much-celebrated wedding during which ladoos would come from Kerala in big trucks. Annamma was also very much part of the '78 floods (I am still referred to as the flood baby as I was born then). She waded through the waters getting things and emptying bucketfuls of water elsewhere.

Years later, after Annamma left, we found ourselves in Kerala for a year. A convent sent us a new maid who came with tales of a splendid past. Her husband (who apparently resembled the filmstar Mammooty) pampered her with presents and made sure that she was always comfortable. But what she didn't mention was that he had left her for a younger, prettier woman. She began her day by powdering her dark face, applying eyeliner and drawing her eyebrows. Then she would comb her curly hair and emerge in a brightly coloured saree. She loved to dress up and insisted that she was a great looker. She spent her evenings praying loudly and she insisted on watching TV at night. And when she wasn't allowed that privilege in the night, she scared me with tales of thieves and ghosts. Then came demands of a room to herself and she also began getting out in the middle of the night. Then Mom decided that she would have to leave.

Her successor was an equally crazy woman that the convent had sent. An ordinary, soft-spoken woman, she was allowed to visit her young child in the convent every week. She also had a similar story to tell. Her husband had left her for another woman, leaving her helpless with a six-year-old child. All was well, till her weekly outings began ending at unearthly hours. Eventually, we found a whole lot of love letters that were written to someone that she wasn't visiting each weekend. She was also sent away.

Apart from such maids, we also came across some who jumped on the clothes that were being washed, insisting that only this action would ensure clean clothes. There was one maid who visited my aunt during Id with her entire family. The entire battalion dressed in various colours settled down comfortably in the front room, while the maid played hostess. And yet another woman used my uncle's socks as makeshift gloves to clean her feet until my aunt caught her.

Our present maid is very different from all of the above. She rarely speaks and I've never seen her smile. And, she moves like the tortoise that could never possibly win a race. It takes her an hour to peel and cut a potato and when no one is watching she makes herself a big glass of milky tea. But an amazing cook, she makes the best spicy fried chicken and Kerala fish curry. So when fussy guests make an appearance, her culinary skills are put to the test and so far she has been a great success. Her speed hasn't increased in four years and she continues to walk around with a slightly amused expression. Occasionally she takes off, owing to guests in her own house. And as she walks away wearing the same amused expression, I wonder if she is using us for her teatime tales.