After the rehearsal today (which, despite the fact that we had to change rooms, and some were missing, and others had to leave early, was quite superb) one of the students, Shruti, asked if she could ask me some questions. Ask me to talk? Try to stop me!
But it did come as something of a shock when she produced her phone with the prepared questions on it. It was supposed to be a short chat, but lasted for ages, with some remarkably thoughtful questions. I wish I could remember the exact words, but ranged from theatre – what have I learnt from directing in different cultures, and how has this affected the way I work? What is the impact of directing people whose first language is not English? – to culture – what are the major differences between India and England? It really was an extraordinary, and hugely enjoyable, conversation, which went on and on.
She did ask about the most positive aspect of Indian culture, to which I replied the hospitality, which really is extraordinary, as when you are their guest (as I am) there is nothing that is too much trouble. Shruti acknowledged this – it was clearly something she was well aware of.
But then I went on to point out two very different aspects of the same quality. One is that, especially to someone like me who hates fuss, it can sometimes be all a bit too much, with people fussing over me, not allowing me to open doors even. And I am a socialist – I believe in equality, so to expect other people to subjugate themselves (that’s too extreme, but you know what I mean) does not sit well.
Even more fundamentally, however, that hospitality only extends to their guests. When it comes to other people to whom they feel no such obligation, the situation is very different indeed. In such situations, far from being polite to a ridiculous degree, many Indians think of themselves above others, which means they are positively rude! This affects their behaviour on the road (which I also wrote about last year in Nepal, with a very similar culture), but also outside their cars.
An example comes from our experience in Lulu’s which we have been told is the prime supermarket, where everything is available. I told Shruti about Val’s experience at the baklava counter, where she was roundly ignored in favour of louder, pushier customers who simply pushed in front of her. Eventually, she decided to adopt the same sort of behaviour, though, because she did not have the experience, was not equal to the competition. And eventually, having decided that if she was not served next, she would walk away, she got her baklava. Rude!
Shruti asked where this had occurred. “Lulu’s,” I replied, expecting her to be shocked. “Overrated,” she sniffed, and gave me the name of a far superior alternative, where we would not encounter such behaviour, where people would be more deferential. I went to get a piece of paper to write down the address. “I will text it to you,” she said. D’oh!
