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When I arrived in New Delhi with my family, we were immediately taken to an Embassy-owned housing complex consisting of furnished apartments. As I recall, there was a canteen there, and a recreation center. It was a walled compound, with good quality construction. The apartments had central air conditioning, etc. Very nice. It would take a few weeks for us to get our household effects from Bangkok, so we would not move into permanent housing until they were in country and clearing customs.

We eventually were assigned quarters in a fairly newly established housing development just outside ring road, 5 minutes by car from the Embassy. The area was called Shanti Niketan. We were one block off the main drag, on a quiet street lined with new homes, occupied by Indian families. There were not many trees yet established in the community, it being newly occupied. There were no sidewalks, but the streets were paved. The house had two stories, flat roof and a two car garage in back with servants quarters above it. Everything was walled and gated for security, and to keep the cows and other large critters out of the yard. It was neatly landscaped with shrubbery and flower beds. On the parking strip on the street out front, there was a young neem tree, and a jakaranda tree.

Something unique to north India was the use of Chiks. Heavy bamboo blinds hung outside the windows, covering them completely. The chik blocked the intense rays of the sun, and made cooling the house much easier. We got used to not being able to see out the windows. In the wet monsoon, they were taken down and discarded - by then they had been blasted by the sun and dust storms until they were almost worn out. New ones were installed after the rains ended.

Another feature of the house was that there was no central heating. Heating was done by small electric room heaters, as needed. It did not freeze in New Delhi, but it got quite cold, and heat was needed - especially by those not used to a winter season.

We had three bedrooms upstairs, with the kitchen, dining room and living room downstairs. A small den was off in the corner at the front of the house. There were large sliding glass doors front and back. The rooms were air conditioned. There was nothing very special about the house, but it suited us fine, and we happily took it, and moved in.

My family was used to having a maid to do the heavy work, and having household staff in New Delhi was common. So we set about looking for a maid. It was an interesting learning experience for us. The caste system had things strictly organized. All servants except for the nurse (ayah) were men. That was new to us; it would seem strange to have men working in the house. The bearer was the boss of the staff. He was the equivalent of a butler. Then there was an inside sweeper, who made the beds and took care of cleaning the interior. He worked for the bearer. The cook also worked for the bearer, though the cook usually had a great degree of independence, for understandable reasons. The outside sweeper keeps the grounds neat and clean. He never comes into the house to do inside work. The inside sweeper does not ever sweep outside. The dobhi does the laundry and washes the carpets when they need it. The gardener is another outside man of course. Finally there is the chokidar, or night guard. He is armed with a heavy, stout staff, and he takes his job very seriously. He can be counted on the remain awake and alert all night. We did not need an ayah, or a driver. But we did need the seven others if we were to cover all the tasks of running the house. Fortunately, their wages were very reasonable. The dobhi and gardener worked just one day a week. You can criticize the caste system as much as you want, but in the case of household professionals, it worked beautifully. The burgeoning population shared the labor and everyone knew their place, to create a highly efficient service industry.

The star performer was Rama Rao, the cook. He was a grey haired man of about 50, who was from Andra Pradesh. The people in Andra eat a lot of hot chilies. I convinced Rama Rao to fix our food as he would like to eat it. So he did, chilies and all. The first thing in the morning was to brew up a pot of tea. This was done using a sauce pan, tea, water and buffalo milk. And sugar. He tossed it all together, and boiled it for what seemed to be a long time. Then he strained it through a long bag-like strainer, into a tea pot. The tea was marvelous. Up until that point I was an inveterate coffee drinker. But Rama Rao changed that. I didn’t drink coffee the whole time I was in New Delhi. Since then I have tried and tried to make tea like Rama Rao did, but have failed to match his performance. He made bread then. Every day. Huge heavy loaves of wheat bread. Bread that will stick to your ribs. A loaf of Rama Raos bread absolutely blew Wonder Bread out of the water. I loved the French bread in Indochina, but I became a bread addict in India, thanks to Rama Rao. Almost as an afterthought, he would cook delicious curries of meats and dahls, vegetables and serve them with rice or specialty Indian breads such as chapatis, puris, even dosas. He could do them all. India is the only country I have lived in where I could happily live as a vegetarian. They really know how to prepare tasty food with, or without, meat.

The dobhi was perhaps the second-most impressive. He did a week’s worth of laundry in just one day. Every Thursday he showed up and set to work. He rigged clothes lines in the back yard and hung the washed clothes there. He used a large wash tub. He did the ironing on a table in one of the garages. It had a blanket on it, and an old sheet. He ironed everything using a huge cast bronze charcoal fired iron. It was heavy, and he did not have to press down to do a good job. He ironed everything. Even my underwear. Handkerchiefs, bed linens – everything. If a button was missing, he sewed one on. Small tears were repaired. And he never failed to complete the job in that one day. He demobilized everything and at the end of the day you could not tell he had even been there. My clothes were never cleaner or in better shape, before or since New Delhi.

The Embassy had a very nice arrangement that helped its staff find servants. There was a servant’s registry that had 5X7 data cards with a photo and contact data on all kinds of workers. It was before computers, so it was a card file. Today I expect it is in a computer data base.

It took us about a month to assemble a team that worked well together. After that, we went the whole 3 years without a loss of personnel. I want to tell you, that is very unusual in the 3rd world.

This pool of skilled domestic workers is no accident. The professions were developed by the British, who of course prefer to live a comfortable overseas life. They did a splendid job of training a huge pool of dedicated professionals. I am sure that today, 60 years after the departure of the British, India remains one of the most comfortable places on earth for an expatriate to live.

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