My "Duty"

Dear dedicated reader,

The rules of Indian hospitality continue to confound me.

Yesterday to my horror, I was told by my co-teacher Tabussum that one of the school peons who has been so kind and helpful to us, Vikrambhai, had been in an accident. The subject came up because another of the school’s peons was making the rounds in the staff room to collect donations to pay for Vikram’s hospital bills. Apparently, he had been doing some work from the school and had fallen from a desk and cut his leg. There had been some blood, but as it didn’t seem serious, no one was overly concerned. After school, he had gone immediately to his farm and strongly exerted himself in this work, which led to the wound in his leg becoming infected. He had gone to the hospital for an operation, but the operation had been unsuccessful, so now he is in a hospital in Surat.

Saddened by this news and eager to help out, I asked to be able to put my name down for a contribution as well. She cheerfully passed me the paper on which she had written her name and said I could give whatever I felt comfortable giving. I was told that since my money was in the guesthouse, I simply had to find Manubahi (the peon taking up the collection) the following day and give him my donation.

Last night, I carefully put aside the money that I would donate with my school things so I would not forget, and this morning I went in search of Manubhai. I found him after only a short while, talking to another male staff member just outside the computer lab. I pulled the money out of my pocket and made to hand it to him.

He looked from me to the money and back and shook his head.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, in Hindi. In English, I added, “This is for Vikrambhai.”

He shook his head and said something that I didn’t understand. I looked at him, confused, and he shook his head again.

At the moment, Dhirinbhai, the computer teacher whose English is excellent, came down the stairs and Manubhai looked at him and repeated what he had said.

“What’s the problem?” I asked Dhirin.

“You see, you are our guest, at this school, and so we cannot accept your money,” he said, repeating what I suppose Manu had been trying to say.

I made a face. “What is this,” I said, trying to hide my irritation, “this is for Vikrambhai, he’s been so good to us!”

“Yes, I understand that,” Dhirinbhai said, “but ‘Sir’ has instructed us not to take your money.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I made another impatient face. There was an awkward pause where they looked at me and could clearly see my displeasure at this pronouncement.

“Sir has told you this,” I repeated.

“Yes,” Dhirinbhai said again, “and I think that if it’s a problem, you had best talk to him.”

“I will,” I said.

I went upstairs to the principal’s office. I was a little nervous, as my last encounter with him had been over the bicycle, and while I was sure that this would not still be a sore subject, I couldn’t help feeling a little apprehension. However, I soon quelled this with the thought that really this was too much. I couldn’t help donate to someone’s hospital bill because I was a ‘guest of the school?’

It was a few minutes before his office was free for me to enter, so I had this time to think over what I would say.

He welcomed me in and indicated that I should sit.
“What do you need?” He asked me with a smile.

“Sir,” I began slowly, “I heard from the other teachers that Vikrambhai has had an accident.”

“Yes,” he said, with concern, “he is in the hospital in Surat. Yesterday I have been to see him and he is doing well. He should be well in – 15 days, I think.”

I was relieved to hear this news. “Sir, I saw that the staff has taken up a collection for his hospital bills and I would also like to donate, but I’ve been told that you say I cannot do so?” I phrased it as a question.

“You are our guest, and therefore we cannot take your money,” he explained slowly.
”Yes, I understand,” I said, “but Vikrambhai has done so much for us since we’ve been here and been so nice to us… I really want to help.”

“Yes, I know,” he said, “but it is not necessary for a guest to give money.”

I pressed on, and suddenly had a flash of inspiration. “Sir, I really feel it is my duty to give money to the collection, as Vikram has been so good to us and it would not be right for me not to do so.” I had heard this line before from almost every Indian I know: It was Dhirinbhai’s duty to help us establish our cell phones, it was the principal’s duty to provide us with games and entertainment, it was our acquaintance Manishbhai’s duty to take tea to his mother each day at her shop.

This appeal seemed to affect him. “If you want to give money, I have no objection,” he said at last.

“I do,” I insisted.

He called for Manubhai to bring the list into his office and I was finally allowed to hand him the money that had been in my pocket. He seemed pleased, and I wondered if it was mere formality that had not allowed him to say yes before.

Confound the rules of Indian hospitality. Who should have to appeal to give money for someone’s hospital bills?

Best,
Cat