My father in law was all
enthusiastic about the arrival of his first grandson in law, a foreigner. On
the day before he went to the best of bakeries in Madras for the best of
breads, salted butter and jam. At breakfast he was elucidating the superior
quality of the bread, the one and only Kissan jam (Is he carrying coal to New
castle? I wondered) and how Amul butter was the best in the world produced by a
ladies' cooperative and a successful one at that. Out of courtesy the man
listened carefully to these microscopic explanations. But when grandpa buttered the toast and
spread the jam and kept it on his plate it proved to be the last straw on the
camel's back and his grandson in law
authoritatively asked "But where is my dosa and sambar?"
My father in law was in ecstasy when
he heard those words and he ran to
the kitchen to give instruction to the cook on how to make a
perfect crispy dosa, in spite her well known expertise in the field!
"Our idli / dosa are the best
food and no doubt that he likes it." he said to himself."
Each of the three dosas he consumed
were properly scrutinised and quality checked before he brought it to the
table!
He was further astonished when he used his fingers to dip
the dosa in sambar and relish his breakfast!
"He could still use all his
four fingers in this process instead of just the two!" He thought to
himself and determined to teach him
the perfect art of dosa eating before he
went back to his country!!
"I don't understand why your
grandpa should stand near me throughout my meal? Makes me uneasy. He could sit
with me and have his food" the
grandson in law pathetically said
“Athithi devo bhava" you
silly......" my daughter smilingly said to her hubby. "A guest to the house is the
personification of God himself. Do we sit with God while we pray? For the guest,
especially a new comer, the nuances of the food and the manner in which it
should be consumed had to be explained
and whenever the plate becomes empty it had to be filled up to the brim
and that's the way we affectionately take care of our guests."
The man was flabbergasted......
"Grandpa observes my every single gulp! Sitting there I feel like a hard
core prisoner being overseen at every single step!" he was lamenting.
This uneasiness of the guest had to be subtly
explained to grandpa lest that gentle and caring soul got hurt!
The man was also in wonderment to
observe our carbohydrate over loaded breakfasts
lunches and dinners. Apart from the
morning idli / dosa the lunch and dinner consist of rice with sambar, rice with
rasam and rice with curd!
While he was awestruck with this
starchy consumption of us Indians we were equally amazed by his ways and it was
indeed a cultural experience for us the south Indians!
It is true that our everyday staple
diet rice plays a royal role in it is various culinary avatars. But lo
behold this precious granule was
converted by this foreign soul into a
binding medium similar to the soldering iron used by our precious technical
team to bind various electronic components into the pc (printed circuit) board
in our factory. Two spoons of rice in
the centre of the plate was combined with the carrot and beans porial, the
snake gourd kootu, sambar, fish curry and prawns gravy. We the people who had
some experience in varied cultures were stunned by this amalgamation. At this
juncture our daughter made sure that her grandpa a ,stickler to the etiquettes
of rice eating, respected the LOC (line of control) especially, the one between
India and Pakistan never ever entered the dining space during his meals!!
On a particular day as we sat down
to eat our son in law was sitting
hesitantly in his seat.
"Are you ok? Or would you like to eat
later?" I asked him
It was natural that I was worried
since the amount of sambar, vegetables, fish gravy and prawns etc, he consumed
in proportion to the rice was in the ratio of 90:10 which could upset the stomach lining of even
a normal Indian.
"No ma.." he said "My
plate is wet. Can I have a napkin please?"
While it is sacrosanct for us to rewash our
plates before each meal lest we carry some dust, a wet plate is a sacrilegious
one in their culture!!
I had observed this when I visited their place
for the first time but was unhappy with their way of cleansing.
The plates and other vessels which
were soaked in soap water were taken out straight from sink and wiped with a
towel! They wipe and wipe again till all the vessels were bone dry!! (It was the case with the whole country) What
happens to the other half of washing with clean water? I couldn't fathom. I wished I could clean at least plates with water but contain
my urge lest I offend their hygiene code! Luckily for me the dish washer, a new
kitchen utility, a wonder gadget entered into the house that which rinsed and
cleansed water sprayed the vessels and dried them too.
This
concepts of 'dryness' applies to not just to the plates and vessels but
equally to their toilets too. In those carpeted toilets the water is available
just inside the flush tank and not a drop to be seen anywhere else. The toilet
roll is the thing that welcomes you majestically from wall mounted roller,
which Indian sensibilities refuses to accept. Water washed in copious amount
was the norm. So I tend to bring a mug full of water (on the sly) from the bath
room and complete the action making sure that not a drop spilt on their 'dry'
carpet. I was aching for my health faucet in that foreign land.
A miracle happened then! When our
son in law extended his house he made sure that we had a wet toilet, a health
faucet et al. He too fancied that wonderful
contraption and when he was in India, he took one back to be part of his wet
toilet.
In thankful reciprocation we make
sure of dry plates whenever he is in India!
The
foreigners make a fine
differentiation between the containers in which they drink coffee and tea. They
call it 'coffee mug' and 'tea cup'. We
South Indians are addicted to decoction
coffee and use dabara and tumbler to savour it and if there is a preference for tea by anyone,
it is also served in a similar tumbler minus the dabara.
Our man a connoisseur of coffee
prefers a restaurant in our neighbourhood. While he loved the strong coffee served there
he couldn't understand the miniscule quantity served in a tumbler and dabara. His coffee mug at home is considerably
big and to balance out the contents he
would order at least three coffees to the wonderment of us the locals. He also
loves doing 'the one yard coffee processing' that everyone does between their
tumbler and dabara. But to the servers
and the neighbouring diners the man was a revelation.
Cultures differ, they clash, they
are heckled, the superiority of one's own dominates each one's mind.
But human emotions are similar
globally. The love and affection for anything Indian and admiration for Indian
fine arts the attachment to his own Indian family by this dear person is far
beyond words and he would go extra miles to retain and relish it!
We too for our part reciprocate
these gestures with our own value addition,
"Aththi Devo Bhava" ………………
