How I took my power back

Lately, it seems I have become an irredentist. Contrary to what the word may suggest, it has nothing to do with teeth or dental work.

An irredentist is a person advocating the restoration to their country of any lost territory formerly belonging to it. And I am on this mission on a war footing. But the war is being fought in my own house — I am reclaiming back everything I have lost to my domestic help — one kitchen cabinet at a time.

I let go off my current domestic help and not planning to replace her. So you see, after 25 years of having someone living in the house 24/7, I am taking a giant leap towards liberation. Dubai is one of the world’s most beautiful cities to live in.

Of course, the sun, sand and shopping are all great to have, but if people are honest about it, the availability and ease of getting a nanny or a maid is by far the most attractive feature. Even folks who have had no domestic help before coming to Dubai quickly get used to the luxury of having a live-in maid or nanny. And within a few years, we forget how we survived without one.

Friends tell me I’m stupid to let my maid go. ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’, they say. But, I have to admit it’s not been an easy decision. I have woken up in cold sweat a few times during the last month, terrified that I wouldn’t know how to use a food processor or an air fryer. But I know it’s time now.

Having seen my 75-year-old mother survive the pandemic alone and without any help, I’m inspired to retrain myself and take charge of my life before it’s too late. So — on a wing and a prayer.

I am ashamed to admit; I hadn’t looked inside some of the kitchen cabinets in years. In my defence, the maid has always made it clear that the kitchen is her domain, and so over the years, I have quietly acceded the whole enclave to her. But yesterday, with the energy and zest of a warrior on a mission, I charged into the kitchen, emptied all the cabinets, and laid their contents out on the floor.

Before long, I found myself sitting on the kitchen floor surrounded by over a dozen bottles of pickles, mayo, mustard and spices that seemed to have expired years ago. On my left, there were three bags of long-expired brown rice.

Upon interrogation, I discovered that I had stocked up on rice when I went through my phase of eating healthy (read eating brown stuff). And since my maid only likes long-grain white basmati rice, it had been stashed away into the deep recesses of the cabinet, hoping I would soon forget about my brown food diet.

She did the same with brown sugar — found two large bottles of it. She knows me too well — my diet probably lasted a couple of days. I also found six flat saj pans (tava or griddle). Apparently, one was too concave, and another too convex in shape. One was too big, the other too small. The bottom line was that she made me buy a new Tava until she found the ‘perfect’ one. Clearly, I had been oblivious to the stuff being hoarded.

I was furious and wondered what else I would find. There were several salad spinners, four can openers, and over 40 plastic containers of all shapes and sizes, with mismatched lids. I found many slicers — egg, apple, melon and watermelon as well. Melon ballers in several sizes too. Oh yes, there were six bottles of olive oil — all well past their ‘use by’ date.

Explanation? She does not like the taste of food cooked in olive oil as it does not heat or boil well. I don’t know about boiling oil, but by that time, my blood sure was boiling. Three pressure cookers and four graters later, I suddenly had a moment of calm.

I lay down on the kitchen floor, closed my eyes and took many deep breaths. And there, lying among expired foodstuff and a pile of gadgets and utensils, I felt the fear leave me.

I filled several cartons of stuff to throw or give away and proudly looked around at my new ‘minimalist kitchen’. And then I got up and ran around the house singing loudly and performing a jig! I’m taking my power back.

Hima Pathak is a banker and writer based in Dubai