Kitchen Sink Drama - Part Two

After arranging to spend a week living with Ramesh, Seema and Anil, I turned up with my bags, and as before, Ramesh collected me from the nearby restaurant. This time he is without the henna, but is sporting a three-o'clock shadow that I notice with surprise, is flecked with grey. It makes him look older than his 34 years. Performing the usual Indian miracles with space and balance, we manage to accommodate my three bags and me on the back of his bike.

When we reach the flat, Seema greets us at the door. It is only three-thirty and I feel a prickle of anxiety in case they had taken time off work to meet me. I am highly cautious of provoking another avalanche of hospitality, such as I have previously; it was suffocating, smothering and left me completely bewildered. But it turns out today it is actually a Muslim festival and a national holiday.

So we sit and chat for a while; Seema orders some groceries, which are subsequently delivered. Ramesh pops in and out intermittently, I am never sure where. Again Anil completely ignores me - I give this some thought, as I am surprised that the arrival of a complete stranger into his household arouses no curiosity. I remember it was a similar situation when we visited Chandler's niece.

I wonder whether Indian children just get used to frequent comings and goings as their homes appear to be such open houses. There are always family and friends dropping in, so they become unfazed by intrusions, even if they come in the form of strange white women? With 22 officially recognised languages spoken throughout India, I suppose kids also get accustomed to hearing foreign tongues, so me rattling away in English would be nothing out of the ordinary?

Anyway, Seema invites me once again to join her and Anil on the bed. Thankfully they are watching a cartoon and so we can all have a good giggle at Tom and Jerrys' language-less antics.

By 8.30 I am getting pretty hungry, but Ramesh tells me that they usually eat about 9.30. It is a weird status; half guest, half lodger, but I recognise that this situation would feel strange in England too. Half of this experience is about being in India, and half of it is just about entering the intimate sphere of other people's domestic life.

There is a power cut and we are flung into darkness. This completely lacks the drama it would generate back in the UK. After a few minutes, a voice belonging to Seema calls out from the bedroom. Ramesh's ensuing actions tell me that she asked him for candles. Seema continues to make and serve dinner, which we eat by candlelight and half an hour later the electricity returns.

Over dinner we discuss my excessive use of the word, "danyabad" or 'thank you'. Ramesh explains that it sounds very formal and unnecessary, and that I should just use the English 'thank you' and reduce my use of it by about 50%! There is some ways a lot less courtesy in India - I don't think there is even a Hindi word for 'please'. However, showing respect and courtesy is built into the language in other ways ; for example, by addressing someone as 'Aap' rather than 'Tum' (sort of equivalent to vous and tu in French), or by attaching the suffix 'gi' to a person's name or greeting; e.g. 'Hello-gi' or 'Auntie-gi'.

But blimey, my P&Q addiction proves a hard habit to kick - Ramesh may as well have told me to stop breathing! I practically have to tape my mouth shut, and even then a wholly indecent amount of thank yous escape my lips.

I suffer equally the next evening when two friends come for dinner and Seema waits on us hand and foot - would it really be so bad to offer to help clear away? I try to assess whether it would just look strange, or whether it would be perceived as an insult to my host's hospitality? I find myself thinking of ways to thank them for their generosity - buy them some chocolates, take them out for dinner. But am also still smarting from previous experiences where such gestures seemed to embarrass my hosts, and elicited more lavish showering of gifts in return, as though it was a competition and imperative they win by several laps.

The next morning I am woken at eight by a knock on my door. There is a cup of steaming hot chai awaiting me on the family bed, which I am fast realizing, is not so much a bed, as a second sofa or just a place to hang-out. It simply doesn't have the same connotations it does in the West. Seema gets Amil ready for school, while Ramesh and I enjoy a slightly peculiar breakfast: a bowl of cornflakes submerged in warm milk and a plate of black-eyed beans, with onion and garlic chutney. At 9.30 Seema and Ramesh leave for work and show me how to lock the door using a giant padlock.

That evening, we are joined by another couple. Maneck and Gita live together, but are not married; which is still pretty scandalous in Indian society. Maneck and Ramesh met at ***University, which I have since been told is a 'left-wing', liberal, and progressive institute, where the student body is very politically active. Maneck can quote huge chunks of Marx's Communist Manifesto verbatim! As we talk, it emerges that these folks are extremely well-read (they've read more English lit than me). They feel they belong to a different generation and culture. Although, Ramesh explains that his own father was pretty forward-thinking and in an act of defiance against the caste system, he gave Ramesh a new surname, rather that the family name which would identify him as belonging to a specific caste.

The conversation turns to education and they confirm much of what Babuji told me in Amarpurkashi; that the education system is a mess, and made a mockery of by the private tutoring system that undermines it. Ramesh laments the price of education. He explains that the fees at the school where they want to send Anil appear quite reasonable, but then the school will suggest, for example, that parents buy a bus for the school, and without such a 'contribution' there is little chance of their child getting a place. Ramesh's father is currently in the process of filing a Public Interest Litigation against the government as they have passed a law allowing any Tom, d*** or Harry to open a school; there is apparently, no state regulation.

I enjoy their company and the conversation is fascinating, but there are some things that start to make me feel just a little uncomfortable. Despite their education and progressive values, when the topic turns to relationships and gender, I can't quite figure out Ramesh and Manecks' stance. Here we are discussing serious issues such as education and politics, from a left-wing and liberal stand-point, while Seema is running around in the background cooking, cleaning and doing the lion's share of the child-care. She has no opportunity to join in because she can't understand what is being discussed, and when Ramesh makes references and jokes about their relationship I feel uneasy.

The following evening Manech pops round. Whilst Seema sits with Anil, he shows me his 'Orkut' (Indian version of Facebook) page and my discomfort returns. The profile he has written for himself is full of, what seem to me, silly facile jokes and one-liners. He shows me his list of friends, all of whom appear to be attractive and much younger women (Manech is 35) and whilst I am watching he sends a message to one: "Missing you babe X". I ask hesitantly, deliberately keeping my tone of voice light, what his girlfriend Gita, would make of this. He laughs, saying she does the same thing.

My instinct is that this doesnt feel ok. I feel somehow I am colluding in something that excludes and undermines Seema. It also makes me start questioning their attitude to me. How can they behave like this in one context and actually take me seriously as a woman in another? But I also doubt myself; perhaps I am being too serious and moral about all this. I don't know anything about their world; what right do I have to cast aspersions, or make judgements. In any case, perhaps I have read this all wrong.

Later when Ramesh returns, he asks me directly, what my opinion is on relationships and love; have I ever been in love for example. Uh-oh, I think. So I decide to be honest and say that I don't feel entirely comfortable talking about this with them. I explain that in the UK I would normally discuss these topics with people I knew a bit better, and probably in the company of other women. I also say that after months of being treated very differently to the way I am used to by men, I have become more cautious in male company. Ramesh and Maneck profess to understand; Maneck even talks about the 'male gaze'. Minutes later they are back to their banter about women.

I suppose it would be no different to a group of lads down the pub in England, but the difference is, I wouldn't be included in that. And their wives and girlfriends, would probably be off doing the same; and unlike Seema, if they did happen to overhear, could understand what was being said and therefore have a choice about how to handle it.

I suppose I need to be careful about comparing cultures in this way. I am well aware that similar levels of sexism and hypocrisy operate in the UK. To some extent it is more dangerous in the West, as it is is less overt, more insidious and therefore more difficult to challenge. I suppose what is interesting from a cultural point of view, is that I suspect this phenomenon may be the result of the clash between traditional and modern India, and the corresponding rural and urban cultures. Ramesh and Manech are from a generation where these contrasting values, attitudes and ideologies collide.

They were both born in rural India; replete with caste system, arranged marriages, explicitly defined gender roles and extremely limited interaction between the sexes. They came to the city and received a progressive, liberal education. They were exposed to urbanising and westernising influences and crucially, had access to the company of women. It seemed to me- and I worry about coming across as patronising here - that their behaviour and interaction with women hadn't quite caught up. It was as though the emotional and social transformation, lagged behind the intellectual and rational one. In many ways it was like hanging out with two adolescent boys (and some might argue that this can be said of a lot of men!) But I suppose it just seems harder to accept when the very same men are then spouting forth about human rights, feminism and the like.

Anyway, things probably came to a head for me when the pair of them started talking about their own situations and how they were in 'open relationships'. Had I heard right? Did they really say 'open' relationship? Did that have the same meaning here? And if so what exactly did they see my role in all this? Was all this generous hospitality as innocent as it seemed...?

.... I would love, for drama's sake, to tell you that I had indeed landed in some bizarre, soap-opera-esque situation; but in actual fact I think this was just another of their silly jokes, or perhaps wishful thinking on Ramesh's part. But I will tell you all about that next time.