Thoughts On Culture, Friendship And Hospitality

A female colleague of mine travelled to Melbourne with me on work. I stayed the night at a hotel, while she arranged to stay with a friend. Neither of us had eaten since lunch, but I managed to grab a bite to eat after I checked in at the hotel. I assumed she would have dinner at her friend's place.

When we met for breakfast at my hotel the next morning, she revealed that she hadn't actually eaten anything since lunch the previous day. She had reached her friend's house at 10 PM, and the kids were already in bed. It was a school day the next day, and they weren't to be disturbed, so the friend had asked her not to ring the doorbell but to call her on her mobile when she arrived. Apparently, the two of them had sat up for about an hour talking quietly and catching up over a cup of coffee, and then my colleague went to bed -- without dinner.

I was frankly shocked when I heard this, but didn't say anything to her. It once again brought to my mind the often stark cultural differences between groups of people. My colleague is a white Anglo Australian.

I cannot imagine a situation where I might land up at the house of an Indian friend at night, and be allowed to go to bed without dinner. It's just not done in Indian culture. The first thing I would be asked even before I set down my bags would be, "Have you had dinner?" and if it turned out that I hadn't, I would be stuffed to the gills before I was allowed to go to bed. Even if I answered in the affirmative, I would be urged to have some dessert at least.

I realised then that the commonly-invoked Sanskrit phrase "atithi devo bhava" ("the guest is god") to refer to Indian hospitality, isn't too far from the truth.

It isn't just Indian culture. Chinese and Middle Eastern people are notorious for feeding people too. A common Mandarin greeting, I'm told, is "nǐ chī fàn le ma?" ("Have you eaten (rice)?"). Enquiring about whether the other person has eaten is common among Italians and Greeks too, communities sometimes disparagingly referred to as "wogs" by Anglo people. It's the Anglos who seem to be the exception among civilisations.

To be sure, Anglo culture abounds in social niceties of etiquette, such as respecting queues, being on time, and saying "thank you", "please" and "excuse me", but these are just the trappings of civilisation. When it comes down to it, there is a human core that seems to be missing. I periodically receive rude reminders that Anglo culture is impersonal to the point of being callous.

I'm a great believer in cultural cross-pollination. I think Western civilisation, especially the Anglosphere, has taught the rest of the world a great many things. The notions of democracy, individual freedom, human rights, the separation of church and state, the primacy of reason, etc., have been invaluable contributions that have civilised the world. It would be great if some civilising influences flowed the other way too.

If you liked this, check out this related post, Squinting At India From Down Under.

Liberal India's Fear Of The Unknown

Why is Narendra Modi's possible victory causing so much dread in so many Indians?

Is it just a mindless fear of the unknown, as some have suggested? Or is it the insight from Organisational Behaviour that culture is always more important than strategy?

The latter idea takes a bit of explaining. It is the observation that an organisation with a healthy culture will have the wherewithal to adapt to circumstances and try various strategies until it finds what works. A organisation with a brilliant vision and strategy but with a toxic culture will ultimately fail. It will lose customers, it will be punished by the stock market, and its executives may even go to jail.

This wisdom about culture trumping strategy every time is as true of countries as it is true of corporations. A country with a tolerant, pluralistic culture can leverage its diversity to its advantage. Its elected governments learn to be inclusive and fair, pursuing balanced growth over unequal development. In contrast, a society that pursues "purity" (by whatever ideological criterion) risks not only losing the advantages that diversity brings with it, but even weakening itself. Germany exemplifies the latter, where a popular vote in favour of strong leadership in 1933 resulted in utter devastation in just 12 short years. Historical analysts have written tomes about the various reasons for Germany's catastrophic fate, but ultimately, the reason can be stated in a nutshell. The cause was the German populace's willingness to cut corners on culture because they were impatient for a leader with a vision and strategy.

This is the real reason why many Indians fear the advent of Narendra Modi, his fervent followers, and all that they represent. This is not primarily about the 2002 riots, although one could view that as a symptom of what is to be feared.

It is the general mood of impatience, and the willingness to cut corners to achieve objectives. It is the elevation of strategy over culture.

India's culture of pluralism and tolerance did not come about with the adoption of a democratic constitution in 1950, or because of the moral leadership of Mahatma Gandhi in the couple of decades before that. Rather, the inherent culture of India from time immemorial has always been pluralistic and tolerant. In fact, this culture is what shaped the philosophy and strategy of leaders like Gandhi. It is this culture that made a progressive, secular, democratic constitution an easy fit for a country with such an ancient civilisation. But today, this very culture has come under threat from the grassroots up. There is a chill in the air, an increasing intolerance of dissent and criticism, with friends and clansmen turning against one another with rare hostility over political difference. Even during the Emergency of 1975-77, one could trust one's close friends and relatives when criticising Indira Gandhi's government. Today, hundreds of thousands of friendships have been strained (most visibly on social media) because of political difference. Many more people are choosing to maintain a discreet silence rather than voice unpopular opinions.

In this stifling atmosphere, one mollifying mantra is chanted to drown out all others - Development. Development will heal all the wounds that intolerance may inflict, so the theory goes. Elect a "strong" leader, suppress all contrary opinions, watch the country grow at a rapid pace, and finally everyone will benefit, majority and minority alike. It's an appealing argument. Unfortunately, that's also the classic fallacy of neglecting culture for strategy.

The toxic culture of intolerance for dissent that we are witnessing has been commented on by many writers, including Sagarika Ghose and Aatish Taseer. And ironically, the invective that is heaped on such people in the guise of rebuttal serves to underscore their arguments. India is sliding towards a more dictatorial culture, one personified by an emerging political leader but also one that is eagerly fanned by his willing followers.

Indira Gandhi had to pay goons to silence her opponents. Modi's goons (of both the white collar and the blue collar variety) do the job willingly, out of righteous conviction - the conviction that the ends (a strong economy) justify the means (a markedly less liberal society). Such stories do not end well in either fiction or in history, as JK Rowling and 1930s Germany can tell us.

And this is why liberals fear for India. 

Our Sterile Monoculture Of Storytelling

When reviewing the movie "Madras Café", I mentioned my disappointment that the movie eschewed the traditional Bollywood style of storytelling in one very important respect - it had no dances or even songs. There are many who think this makes it a "serious" movie, because songs and dances distract from the storyline (at best) and trivialise a serious story (at worst).

I'm actually disturbed at this. Different cultural traditions have different storytelling styles, and none is inherently more or less valid than another.

A non-Japanese watching the Kabuki theatre might wonder why there is so much slow movement and screaming. A Japanese might point out that a member of the audience who sees the performance in such terms is in fact a philistine. [Confession: I have watched bits of Kabuki as part of Japanese movies and must count myself among the philistines.]

Movie buffs would know the subtle differences that exist between American movies, English movies and Australian movies, even though all of them are in the English language. Readers of "Asterix" and "Tintin" comics would surely have noticed the distinctly European sense of humour in these stories. What a pity it would be if this rich variety did not exist. We would lose something if all English-language movies had the same "feel" to them, or if all comics exuded the same sense of humour. We must not lose the diversity of the world's storytelling cultures. To avoid such a loss, we must actively train and sensitise ourselves to appreciate this diversity.

I have explained before why Bollywood movies cannot be lightly dismissed as "musicals". In the Indian movie tradition (not just Bollywood but the various regional language movies as well), songs and dances are part of the entertainment package. The best movies manage to weave these sequences into the flow of the story so that they advance it in their own way. But even those that don't cannot be faulted. A song sequence in the middle of an otherwise gripping story is an admonition to the audience to stop and smell the roses. Life is multifaceted, and the goal of watching a movie is not to rush headlong towards the dénouement, but to savour every subtle emotion along the way. It's an attitude that should inform one's approach to life itself. Life is not a rat race in which we have to get somewhere. The journey itself is the point. That's why Indian movies are often called "masala" movies. They're a mix of flavours, all of which are meant to be savoured. Viewing Indian movies through a Western cultural prism (according to which the movie's sole purpose is to relentlessly advance the storyline) only exposes the viewer as a philistine.

I believe it is legitimate to challenge an audience to evolve in sophistication to appreciate an art form, rather than to demand that artistes dumb down their art to appeal to the lowest common denominator.

That's why I'm unhappy that "Madras Cafe" has no songs or dances. In its quest for respectability in Western eyes, it has sold its soul. It's now a Hollywood movie with Indian names in the credits.

The Weight of Tradition

One of my friends posted on Facebook about a Japanese custom where the host comes out and stands in the cold when taking leave of a departing guest, waves goodbye to them and only goes back into the house when the guest's car is out of sight. We had an interesting discussion about how spontaneous gestures are touching but when these are cast into concrete and become part of a culture or tradition, they could become onerous. In my response, I said the Japanese in particular have a culture of forced politeness that makes them think they're being rude even if they do perfectly reasonable things, like avoid the chillies in a dish that they find too spicy. I said they needed to be kinder to themselves and not let tradition oppress them so much, and this then set off the cultural antibodies that perpetually lurk in my bloodstream. Hence this blog post.

I've been a bit of an iconoclast all my life, much to the exasperation of my extended family. (My immediate family has been much more supportive, possibly because my parents were themselves no admirers of traditional customs.)

Two examples come to mind.

1. One of the cultural differences between North Indians and South Indians is the practice of touching the feet of elders. South Indians have a practice of not just bending to touch the feet but of prostrating full-length before elders to receive their blessings. However, this is typically done on special occasions only, such as when taking leave of one's grandparents after a month-long stay, or at weddings when the bride and groom seek the blessings of the elders present.

With North Indians, this is more of a "quickie", and is accomplished by just bending down from the waist instead of prostrating themselves on the floor. Since this is a much more "lightweight" action, they can afford to do it more often and they do. One could say they do it at the drop of a hat (almost as if they were bending to pick up said hat ;-). See someone with grey hair, dip and touch! To South Indians, this is amusing to watch. Also very emotionally touching if you're not used to it. I know of a Telugu girl whose family's objections to her marrying a Rajasthani dissolved when he visited their home and executed a machine-gun touching of everyone's feet as soon as he entered. After that, all the elderly ladies would vie with each other to cook dishes for him and wouldn't hear a negative word about him. It helped that he was also a nice guy, but that's the secret weapon North Indians can use to disarm their Southern neighbours.

The dark side of this tradition is of course when it's forced. I know of girls from liberal and westernised families marrying into more conservative ones, who are expected to touch their parents-in-laws' feet every morning when they first see them. Quite a few of them chafe at this because they consider it demeaning.

On a lighter note, the daughter of my cousin (who married a North Indian) refused to touch the feet of her paternal grandmother, saying, "We South Indians don't do this." And this from a girl who spoke no Tamil at all! Identity can be donned and shed as convenient, it would seem.

2. One of the arguments of the neo-conservative Hindu is that if one only takes the trouble to understand "our great rituals", one will understand the wisdom of our forefathers. I call this bullshit, akin to treating scriptures as sacred just because they're in Sanskrit. After all, one can find some pretty bawdy stuff masquerading as ancient Sanskrit literature.

Marriage rituals are believed to belong to this set of misunderstood cultural treasures. I was surprised to learn that the term "decent marriage" as a requirement in Indian matrimonial ads was a code-word for elaborate rituals. Perhaps simple weddings seem indecent to some people. I recognise that every such ritual had an original purpose and meaning, but since Indian society has been traditionally agrarian, these rituals have a lot to do with land, harvests and fertility (fertility both of humans and the soil). Many of these practices are therefore outdated in a modern, urban context. Many practices also have a feudal basis, and I would reject them out of hand. Hindu rituals are riven with casteism and sexism, and the baggage needs to be discarded and the entire culture given a complete and thorough overhaul.

My mother pointed out one such example at a cousin's wedding. There was a ceremony where the bride was seated on the ground and the yoke of a bullock-cart was placed (lightly) on her head. This would of course be trumpeted by the neo-conservatives as rich in meaning, because it is meant to symbolise the responsibility of a wife. I guess my mother's feminist sensibilities were offended at this, because she wondered aloud to me why they didn't seat the bride and groom side by side and place the yoke over both their shoulders. It would have symbolised the fact that they would now have to bear the responsibilities of a household together and share the burden equally.

In short, I am a student of culture but not a blind fan. I hate it when cultural traditions oppress the individual.

And now I've got that off my chest :-).

The Etymology of a Name

I attended a technical talk today by a person with the unusual surname of Velummylum. Given that his first name (Piragash) sounded like the Tamil rendering of a Sanskrit word ("Prakash" - Light), I looked closer at the surname to see if that was a Tamil word as well.

Tamil has no simple conjunction word for "and". If you wanted to say, "The Ant and the Grasshopper", you would have to say, "Ant-um Grasshopper-um" (with the Tamil equivalents for Ant and Grasshopper substituted, of course).

So Velummylum on first analysis, seemed to be "Velum Mylum" (வேலும் மயிலும்), i.e., the Vel and the Myl. Now Vel (pronounced 'vale') means 'spear' in Tamil and Myl (pronounced 'mayil') means 'peacock'.

"The Spear and the Peacock" may still not mean much to a non-Tamil even when translated, but the symbolism is very clear to a Tamil. They are the symbols of Lord Murugan, the Tamil name for Kartikeya, the warlord god born to Shiva and Parvati to destroy the demon Tarakasura. The spear is his weapon, and the peacock is his mount or vehicle ("Vahana"). Every Hindu god or goddess seems to have a favourite weapon and a particular animal or bird as their mount.

I'm told there is a very famous devotional song "Velum Mayilum Thunai" (Succour of Spear and Peacock), an allegorical appeal to Lord Murugan's protection.

I thought I'd dig around the web for some nice pictures of Murugan. Here's a traditional one, the kind that I would see in shops and homes during my childhood holiday visits to Madurai, where my grandmother lived. The peacock holds down a serpent, symbolic of all kinds of evil in human nature, I guess.

This is the version by Raja Ravi Varma, the famous Indian artist who was influenced by the Dutch portraitist Theodor Jenson. [The fusion of classical Indian and Dutch Impressionist styles made Raja Ravi Varma one of India's greatest artists. As Aatish Taseer rightly observed in the novel "Stranger to History" that I reviewed, the world is richer in its hybrids.] This version shows Murugan in his six-headed form with two consorts and lots of different weapons. The serpent is bigger than before, but the peacock seems to have the situation under control.

Here's a more modern rendition that I really like. I couldn't tell who the artist was, but here's the site I got it from. They missed the serpent, though.

It's the story of my life. I set out to learn about technology, then get drawn into even more interesting research into linguistics, culture, religion and art!

Reflections on Culture and Tradition

I had a powerful experience yesterday when shopping at the Arpico supermarket in Colombo. The counter clerk was a friendly and smart-looking youth. When I handed him my credit card, he took it with his right hand, and with his left hand holding his right elbow. The gesture brought back memories and feelings in a rush.

In 2000, when I applied for Australian citizenship, I was surprised when the Australian immigration officer (a Caucasian) took my passport with both hands. This is, of course, the (East) Asian way of showing respect. I guess he had been trained to be culturally sensitive because of the large number of East Asians applying for Australian citizenship. Although I immediately recognised the gesture as one of respect, I was not emotionally touched by it. However, when the youth at Arpico took my card in the respectful Tamil style, it touched and moved me, and this is why.

When taken to visit temples as a child, I was taught to throw flowers on the idol in an underarm movement using my right hand, with my left hand holding my right elbow. I don't know if this is prevalent in the rest of India or even in the rest of South India, but it is definitely part of Tamil culture. The left hand is considered unclean and must never be proffered to others, either to give or to receive anything. Only the right hand may be used in any transaction. This much is common to all of India. When great respect is to be shown, as when showering the idol of a deity with flowers, the left hand must support the right at the elbow. I believe this is a uniquely Tamil gesture.

The incident made me think a lot about my life, especially my ideological choices. In my late teens, when reading about communal riots and killings in the papers, I determined that religion was evil and nothing but superstition that led men astray. I was also studying engineering at the time, and I believed that science and reason were the answer. I guess I still do.

That started me on my journey of conscious agnosticism. I never became a communist, like many other idealistic students, but I did try to be a practising agnostic. This meant consciously violating rules that had been taught to me as part of my culture if they made no sense. I would whistle after sunset, I would ask people where they were going as they were leaving, I would openly blaspheme. (In later years, I would mock my wife for murmuring prayers in Sanskrit, "a language neither she nor God understood.") I inured myself to stepping on paper without flinching, and to moving books aside with my feet, conscious acts to defy Goddess Saraswathi's certain wrath. The heavens never opened to strike me dead, and I have remained an agnostic with a healthy aversion to organised religion. I even composed a couplet to summarise my philosophy:

There may or may not be a God
But religion is a fraud

It has been decades since I even thought about the respectful supported-elbow gesture, and the fact that a young man half my age, from my own culture, in another country, was keeping the tradition alive - no, living the tradition - made me think for a long time.

I have forged a powerful identity for myself by defining what I stand for and stand against, and this has made me what I am. Still, I found myself asking, have I gained or have I lost?