The crazy cook!


I grew up hating the way my mom treated hired help. She was always suspicious of them and was very frugal. When I visited my grand mom during the holidays, I was aghast at the way she treated them too. I vowed I would never, ever be like them.

In all the years of running my own home, many a  unique character has tested that resolve.

But none to equal this really crazy lady!

On a November afternoon, two years ago, I answered the doorbell to find a woman grinning at me.

“You’d asked for someone for top-work, Amma?” She enquired enthusiastically.

‘Yes,” I replied.

She literally pushed past me and surveyed my house.  And declared she can start that very minute.

She agreed to all my terms concerning timings & salary.

I was thrilled. I had fired my previous hired help 3 weeks ago. After 6 years, I’d realised that she had been siphoning off my valuables very slowly… Had to let her go after my new gold bangles & a gold chain vanished within weeks of each other.

I had been struggling with all the chores from then on.  I couldn’t remember a time when I had relaxed with a nice cup of tea.

On her first day, the new help fished out a wallet and showed me passport pictures of three surly young men.

“My sons!” she announced. “I know, I look too young to be a mother of 3 grown boys, but what to do, they got me married at 14 and I had my first one at 16. Now he’s 21…” She paused, perhaps, waiting for me to calculate her age. I nodded and got on with my cooking.

After a couple of days, I found the new help wanting in every area of housework. Dishes weren’t all that clean, the floor was still dusty & I had to literally follow her around to point out dusty surfaces.

To top it all she kept up non-stop chatter on how she has to get away from her mentally ill husband everyday since it depresses her and all the events taking place in her extended family and neighbors. If she was not doing that, she was on her mobile phone, complaining about her life to god knows whom.

On the third day I told her I was just not happy with her services.

She was very apologetic and admitted to never having done housework before. ‘I was a cook for 13 years, Amma.. But I’ll buck up and learn. I have lots of financial trouble… please don’t sack me…”

I gave in. Having starved of his non-vegetarian diet all these days with my tambrahm cooking, my husband asked if we should check out her culinary skills.

He was blown over by her cooking that we paid her extra to come again in the evening to cook our dinner.

After three days of cooking us sumptuous meals, she asked me if she can finish both cleaning & cooking at one shot. “My sons are complaining that I’m not home in the evenings Amma,  ” she said.

I agreed. But after a week, I noticed a perceptible change. She walked in at 10 am, finished her cooking & proceeded to do a whirlwind cleaning & was out by 2 pm. After a month of pleading with her to do justice to her cleaning, I put my foot down & asked her to do only the cooking. A friend sent someone for top work.

That opened another can of worms. She was so miffed by this and regarded the new top-work as her mortal enemy. After a week of listening to her scream at the poor unsuspecting woman & refusing to give her a cup of tea when she asked, I gave her a piece of mind. I told her if she is going to be nasty & unpleasant, she could just leave.

She created a big scene, accusing me of favouritism & being rude to her.

I was at the end of my tether and announced to my husband that I’ll have to let her go. Horrified that he’ll miss out on all his fish & chicken, he would not hear of it. “Learn to handle her,” He admonished. “How many cooks & maids will you fire just because you get irritated with them? “

So I gritted my teeth and put up with it for a year. I dreaded her time at my home, listening to her narrating one domestic drama or another to who ever was in the kitchen. In a loud voice, with occasional wailing. Once I stormed in and asked her to put a lid on it. The wailing stopped, but her tales continued. Even I could make out that none of it was true, from whatever little bit I heard. Her husband was now a drunkard who beat her up everyday and refused to give her any money for the upkeep of her kids. One day she’d talk about her eldest son who was an undergrad student aspiring to do an MBA. After a few weeks she’ll seek counsel with the top work if she should get him married since he’s been at home for the past 2 years doing nothing.

Soon, she was a proud owner of a scooter and was zipping by to and from work. She’d upgraded her mobile phone and stories of TV soaps started dominating her monologues.

Despite being so irritated with her, I was quite glad to see the improvements in her life.

Her second son was suddenly in the hospital for an emergency appendix surgery. Feeling very sorry for her, I asked her to take time off as long as he was in the hospital. After 2 weeks, she came back to work and said he’d been discharged the previous day. All was well for a couple of days. Out of the blue, she was wailing again that blood is sprouting non-stop from her son’s surgery site. Shocked, I asked her what the doctor said. “We’re yet to take him,” she replied. Outraged at her carelessness, I packed her off that minute to take him to the hospital. She was off for the next few days. She came back to tell me he was admitted again for a corrective procedure. I asked her to take care of him and not to come to work till he was discharged.  A few weeks later she was back to work. I asked to see the discharge report just to check what had gone wrong.

But the report only said that he had been admitted for an emergency appendix surgery and was discharged after full recovery. Puzzled, I told her the report did not speak about any second admission or a corrective procedure.

Pat came her reply. “I know, Amma.. I asked a nurse living next door the same thing and she says in government hospitals, they never keep record of their mistakes…”

Another year went by punctuated with various dramas like her son falling ill with jaundice, her sister losing her husband, her husband losing his sister, etc… Of course all of them demanded her presence so she had to take leave from work.

One fine day, I ticked her off for some thing. She huffed up and said, “you can look out for another cook. I’m quitting by the 1st of next month”.

I was immensely relieved! I sent a silent thank you to God Almighty for sparing me the unpleasant business of firing her.

The following week, I asked her if I’d heard the date correctly. Because the cook downstairs was bringing his friend to see if we wanted to try him out. And I’d asked him to start next month.

“No!” she wailed. “I changed my mind. I’m not leaving you. I’ll work for you forever!”

Forever?! Alarm bells started ringing furiously in my head.

“Excuse me! If I remember right, you were the one who wanted to quit & even gave me a date! I’ve asked someone else to take your place and that’s that!”

“But Amma! Where will I go? I have 3 children and a blind husband to support…”

I was flabberghasted. When she started working, her hubby was supposedly mentally ill. A few months later he was a drunkard. Now he’s blind?

Did she think I was really that stupid?

We were traveling for the next few days and I’d asked her to come back the following week. “But there’s really nothing I can do. My husband has asked someone to start work from the first and he’ll be very angry with me!” I said, using my husband’s name to wriggle out of another scene.

She came back the following week, finished her cooking and meekly stood before me when I was frantically finishing up some pending work at my comp.

“Amma, did you check with Sir if I can continue here?” she asked in a sugary tone.

“Yes, I did. “ I replied solemnly. “He says the other person is starting tomorrow.”

Her sugary tone vanished in a second and in a harsh voice she screamed, “How could you do this to me? You know very well I have a blind husband and 3 children to take care of.. I cannot work anywhere else. Your place is the only place I feel comfortable…”

I calmly told her to cut the drama and reminded her it was her decision and she had had a lot of time to look for another job.

“I know you’re talking like this because of that wretch, the top work! She’s been feeding you with rubbish about me! She hates me and wants to get rid of me!”

I assured her nobody had anything to do with this. And it was she who wanted to quit and gave her the last salary and showed her the door.

I was dreading her landing up to create another scene the next morning. Till 11 am there was no sign of her. After almost 2 years, my house was so peaceful!

I was humming to myself when my phone rang. A very distraught friend called to inform me that the crazy cook had paid her a visit just then. She had sat in her living room and wailed for an hour, accusing my friend of ruining her life..

“What?????” I sputtered. “Why would she blame you? “

“Apparently she found out that it was me who had sent you the top-work. So she cried and screamed ‘how can you send someone when I was working there? Now she’s poisoned madam’s mind and I’m on the streets!’ She left only after I assured her that I’ll speak to you.”

Both of just couldn’t figure out how she connected her to the top work and more importantly how she traced her home.

It got really scary. ‘What a psycho!” said my husband when I told him.

I ignored her constant calls and they stopped after a few days. My friend alerted her security and so did I. Between us we warned other friends and relatives too. And that was that.

My top work reported that she met her in a shop a few weeks later, looking as cheerful as ever but came to her & bellowed, ‘You! You cost me my job and don’t think you’ll get away with that!” and flounced off.

Now I have a man coming in to do the cooking. He’s a focused, silent presence in my kitchen for 2 hours every morning and whips up meal after fantastic meal.

And without the drama.