“We’re moving to Oman,” announces my maid, clearly excited.
“But why?” I am flabbergasted. I am one of those women who find my maid way more precious than my husband. The only other thing more difficult than finding a good maid in Mumbai, is finding a good house. Needless to say, I try to get to the root of the decision.
“Didi, you don’t have to pay income tax there,” she says.
“You don’t pay income tax here!” I exclaim, almost choking on my coffee.
She is silent for a second. Then comes up with her second argument.
“Mohan, my neighbour, has been there. He said you don’t have to tip the people in hotels. So much money saving, Didi,” she remarks.
“Do you tip here?” I ask, a rhetorical question.
She goes silent again.
“What do you plan to do there?”
“Mohan says people who work with oil can make good money. Raghu works with oil, Didi.”
I sigh. Such naivete. Her husband Raghu offers head oil massages to vagabonds at the local beach.