Not a Hindustani married woman, I'm afraid

I have come a long way from ironing N's undies and vests (I don't know why, but I thought they were part and parcel of when you do the ironing at home). Now, the only clothes I ever iron are The Boy's, and that too if I'm feeling particularly gooey-in-the-centre about him.

I was watching this film last night called Aaina (I have NO idea why), with the not-particularly-attractive Amrita Singh, an aeging Jackie Shroff and a pretty but baby-voiced Juhi Chawla. In short, Amrita Singh and Jackie Shroff are an item and are about to get married, but no one knows that younger sister Juhi Chawla also liked Jackie Shroff before he and her older sister decided to marry each other.

Before the wedding, Amrita Singh is getting cold feet about the whole idea and confesses to Juhi Chawla that she doesn't think her life should be about being Mrs Jackie Shroff for the rest of her life. And the younger, but infinitely wiser Juhi Chawla says incredulously, "then what should it be about?"

There are other refences to "Hindustani married woman" etc later in the film when Juhi Chawla is dressed in a saree and jewellery, her long hair cascading down her hips, while Amrita Singh is wrapped in a bathtowel gown.

Before N's friend and his wife were supposed to come and visit us in Geneva, we would chat with them often to make plans about where all they were to go in Europe etc. One night I was kidding with them about how N had not been a good maid today by going lazy on giving The Boy a bath that evening. And the friend asked me unbelieveably, "N gives the bath, not you?" I said casually, "sure, he needs to do something around the house, doesn't he?" Pat came the predictable reply, "he should go to office also and come home and do housework also?"

Yes, yes, that is how we in the west live. We have no sense of the boundaries between a man's work and a woman's work. I sometimes ask N to make himself a cup of tea when he gets home from work, or better still, make one for me as well. I often stay a few extra minutes in bed while he changes The Boy's diaper and gives him breakfast and makes us some tea.

I think the main difference between what he considers his work and what I consider my work is the lack of a fee in mine. I'd got exremely annoyed with N once when he'd left all the housework to me for days, and I finally suggested he pay me for all this work I did at home. Looking after our child, cleaning up, making dinner, cleaning up, doing the laundry, cleaning up... I swear, I'd be happier to do it if I was getting paid for it. It's not like any other job -- there's zero job satisfaction, no help from the other staff members around, you pick up after everyone and then at the end of the day, it's not even considered work.

I can on good days (or on N's bad days when he has to go to office even on weekends) do all this work without cribbing. But on other days I don't want to feel like a maid whose only job is to make sure the man who brings home the bacon is fed, his clothes clean, his shirts ironed and his house spotless.