Bear with me, this story does have a point even though I do ramble and go off the point lots!!!
I am lucky to be living in rooms above my landlady and her family. Lucky because I am getting an insight into the 'normal' family life and non touristy bits of Bangalore. She is interested in me and my life in the UK, what I know about Indian and Hindu culture and keen to share with me everyday life for her and her family. I am also being supported by a local volunteer at Shristi who just lives 2 mins away from me. Both of them invited me for food yesterday and I learnt an important lesson in politeness ( I think).
I came back from morning shopping to be called into my landlad's house. I wasn't actually that hungry but knew that no wasn't an option. She ushered me in and directed me to sit on her granite work surface so that i could watch her cook me something. She semi told me off for not having been in earlier as she had wanted me to eat with her family but anyway she got the dosa batter out and showed me how to pour the batter on and spread it. She got out a variety of chutneys ( including my favourite - garlic, corriander , peppermint and coconut), some dhal and some slightly spicy fried rice. She then put gee on the dosa (a great pancake which can have anything added to it as it cooks- yum, yum) . Anyway , after washing my hands( seperate sink for hands in corner of living area in most houses ) I ate the first one with my hands. I was asked if I wanted a second one and said" no, no thanks I'm full but that was lovely" so she proceeded to make another one which I politley ate. She then asked me if I wanted a sweet one she had made earlier and I said " oh no, definately no I am full, but they were lovely". So she immediatley put one on my plate. feeling a wee bit bloated I ate it out of politness ( at school where I get 2 hot meals a day at breakfast and lunch the staff always look to see if I have left anything on my plate- it just aint done!) .
After a lovely chat with her and then her and her daughter inviting themselves upstairs so that I could share with them my non beauty routine - rosewater and witchhazel should you be so desperate to know- because they said that my skin was so clear ( may they never have their eyes tested) I sort of asked them to leave and then lay on the bed for 10 mins digesting both the food and the way that I had been 'forced' to eat my body weight in dosa.
I knew that I was going to Krupa's house in 2 hours to be fed again as part of a lovely generous offer to be part of a Puja ( prayers) and food . This one was for deceased relatives and elders. So by 12 I am back in front of another feast of colours and smells and tastes. This time it is served on traditional bananna leaves ( the leaves are sold in markets in huge stacks and are great recycling ideas. Seemingly they used to be what street vendors sold food in but were a wee bit too bendy and some of the food fell of so now vendors use what look like tetra pack containers ( juice and milk) that have been flattened out ( or never formed into packs - they all have chinese writing on them).
So I eat some beautiful salads and rices and dhal again and aubergine curry and freshly made roti and puri and biscuits and loads more, share conversation about how religions have so much more in common than they have difference ( based on the fact that some Christian churches have all souls day and all saints day too) . When asked if I want more ( the dishes are all in front of me but I think it is not the thing to help yourself) I insist that I am really really full . At this point a friend's son comes in to be part of the Puja ( share the food after a short prayer in front of a small shrine to Ganesh and other gods). he eats loads and then starts to refuse food from Krupa-who by the way does not eat with us but hovers to serve- her friends will arrive later. he is a lovely polite guy and when he says no Krupa still puts stuff on his plate so after the first time he has to say "no" firmly and physically push the pot and her hand away. Krupa's very gentle , lovelyhusband has to be just as firm. The young guy at this point looks at me and says " to say no twice means yes"
The penny drops.
It has also made me reflect on working with first generation people of Indian and Pakistani origin in Derby and how confusing 2 cultures with so many similarities have some very fundamental differences in what is considered polite - especially if you combine this with a number of people using the phrase " no problem" when they mean really mean " no chance" but don't want to hurt my feelings. Now that does vex me!
