Reverse Psychology and the Case of Vaishu

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Somewhere between Vaishali and ‘Vaishu’, the domestic comedy quietly began


One of the most elegant uses of reverse psychology in a marriage is silence. It screams the loudest and at some point makes you feel like an idiot.

Many years ago we had a maid, basically a lady cook, named Vaishali. She was decent looking and quite presentable. The closest to whom she looked like was Sandhya, of Do Aankhen Barah Haath fame. I don't know at what stage in my mind she had become, from Vaishali to “Vaishu”.

One day I answered the door to her and went into my room. My daughter asked who had come and I absent-mindedly answered “Vaishu”. Now though my daughter was small, she was big enough to know that “Vaishu” was a term of endearment. Hoping for some entertainment, she gleefully said, “Wait, I am going to tell Mummy what you are calling her,” and ran away.

I ran after her to stop her, but it was too late and she blurted out, “Mummy, mummy, Papa is calling Vaishali ‘Vaishu’.” I was furiously thinking of an alibi, expecting some form of confrontation, but my wife's reaction stumped me. She just pursed her lips, looked me in the eye, and followed it with a deathly silence.

You see, this is where reverse psychology comes in.

Silence in such cases is the most elegant and efficient use of reverse psychology. It screams the loudest and, at some point, makes you feel like an idiot. Men are used to action–reaction, but with the silent treatment men become completely lost and confused and don't know how to react. They are forced to dive inward and realise their mistake with double intensity.

Mission accomplished! Reverse psychology has done its job.

I don't remember how the issue finally got resolved, but today we joke about it and she has now become “Vaishu” for all of us.

The story is not over.

I hazily remember that Vaishu, after some time, was no longer working with us. I don't know if it was a chance occurrence, but the following lady was short, plump, with a middle parting of her oily hair. In Marathi we call such a lady “burni”, after the shape of the small porcelain jar where pickle or imli is stored.

Today I don't even remember her name.

The ladies who followed her were also equally nondescript.

But I guess the wife had started regaining her confidence in me, and we again had a good, young, slim and pretty little thing working for us. Was it an acid test? I may not be unbiased, but her food was good too. Her Parsi omelette was nice and fluffy and she made good pav bhaji and batata wadas. She had started making food as per my taste.

But the wife had started making noises that she did not want her.

She gave various reasons like she was not listening to her, she was unclean, she gossiped. I thought all these reasons were frivolous. The thing is, if someone is justifying something with multiple reasons, you know the case is shallow. One solid reason is mostly good enough, which she did not have.

This went on for a few months, during which I attempted my own amateur version of reverse psychology. I commented that the lady was becoming lax and had started taking things easy, and that I didn't like her now, hoping the wife would feel comfortable and take the opposite stand.

However Covid started and after a few months of gratis payment, the wife got an opportunity to announce that we were managing without the lady and we no longer needed her.

By the way, we still call Vaishu when there is some extra work and the tryst with maids continues...

If you wish, you may explore the Rodevra website

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