Since I spent the first seventeen years of my life in Dubai and visited India only during the vacations, I was treated as royalty by almost all of my relatives. So, every visit to a relative’s house assured me, (after a lengthy discourse on how thin I had become), a more than healthy supply of food in general, and sweets in particular. This was all fun as a kid, what with me being a food lover and all. However, as one grows (both in age and in waistline), the constant overfeeding loses its appeal drastically. My last trip to Kerala drove the point home like never before.
The visit to my aunt’s house started with her eyeing me from top to bottom and exclaiming, “How thin you’ve become!! Don’t they feed you in Bangalore?” I looked at my paunch and then at her, wondering if old age had affected her vision that much. She ushered us into the hall in the hurried manner that is so customary of her, and went about busying herself, muttering “I’ll get you something to eat.” My mom and I gave each other anxious looks, since we knew this was the signal for things to come. Our cries of “We have already had lunch! Please don’t get too much!” were ignored completely.
My aunt came with a tray full of snacks enough to feed the entire colony, followed by her daughter-in-law who carried tea and biscuits. I made a comment on how much food was on the table, and how it would affect my newly initiated diet plan; to which she replied “Nonsense. You should eat at your age. You can cut down later.” Since this is the same thing she says to my dad, who is 60, I don’t take it seriously. I started eating slowly, spending more time in conversation. However, it isn’t long before she realizes my tactic, and starts chiding me for not eating. The problem with my aunt is that she believes the food she serves is a major part of showing her affection, and she takes our not eating too much very personally. Seeing my inhibitions about gorging everything on the table, she started getting tears in her eyes. I tried to explain to her the law of diminishing marginal utility, only to increase the flow of tears, and getting a discourse on the ill-effects of western influence on my nutrition. It seemed there was no other way. Either I would have to let my aunt stay upset, or I would have to leave her house stuffed enough to burst.
The choice was, surprisingly, not a hard one to make. I patted my paunch and resigned to my fate. It looked like it was here to stay a little longer. I sat down, and tried to stuff myself. My mom pitched in as much as she could. Despite all this, my aunt bid us farewell telling us how little we had eaten. All the same, at least she was happy with our spirited effort. We wobbled out of the house almost ready to burst. There was an unspoken understanding that dinner would not be required that night. But despite everything, we were really happy, and I felt silly about trying to avoid it in the first place. I realized that I would have treated her the same way had she paid a visit to our home. And this got me wondering – why are we so particular about feeding our guests? Why do we coax, cajole and even blackmail them to eat, eat, and eat some more?
It is a known fact that Indians love their food. It’s one of the things that bind us as a people. The fact that we go to great lengths to ensure that their guests are properly fed is an indication of how much we care. In a way, we are ensuring that the guest gets the best we have to offer. It’s in our culture to be hospitable to our guests – and it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, old or young, conservative or liberal, Congress supporter or BJP loyalist. After all, isn’t India the land which reveres the phrase “Athithi devo bhava”?
So, the next time you are invited to an Indian house for a meal or otherwise, don’t fret about how much you will have to eat. Be happy that their affection for you will be served with some delicious food. Just go with an open mind, a healthy appetite and loose pants.
