Athithi Devo … Five social events that you MUST walk out of.

kasth keliye

Athithi devo bhava … A guest in an Indian home is equated with God. And yet, Indian hosts are among the worst in the civilised world. Seriously. 

I’ve learnt the hard way.  After too many visits to the doctor, too many lost work-days, too many times when I had to rush my aged parents to the hospital, and far too many times my blood pressure went sky-rocketing because of inconsiderate remarks by arrogant half-wits, I finally learnt to say NO.

There are social situations that you should not get into – and hosts you should walk out on. And there are guests you should not allow into your home. Host or guest, there are lines that are not crossed, our traditional Indian hospitality notwithstanding.

The five hosts you should avoid:

The host who imposes his dietary choices on you: Forcing sweets and sugary treats on a guest who has diabetes is not ‘hospitality’. It is a deliberate act of homicide.

For many years, in one social event after another, especially weddings, I would repeatedly request the hosts not to force sweetmeats, payasam and other sugary stuff on my diabetic mother. And each time, I was scolded for being ‘offensive’ and a ‘naastik’ for not obeying some esoteric ‘sacred tradition’.

What the F ! Is it also ‘sacred tradition’ to rush an old woman to hospital after eating that sacredly traditional sugar-laden crap?

I have two stents in my heart. As a result, I have dietary restrictions (that are actually quite easy to follow).  Plus, I cannot tolerate spicy food. This is due to a very nasty gastric infection that I survived a few years ago.

That doesn’t stop me from having my share of fun, but I do need to watch what I eat.

These are my dietary choices, based on sound medical advice. I expect my host to respect my dietary choices, not mock them. If I have any reason to believe that the food on my plate can endanger my health, it is my prerogative to refuse that food.

Only in the recent past, have I learnt to boldly walk out on hosts who make fun of their guests’ dietary choices. And so should you.

One man’s payasam is another man’s hyperglycemic coma.

The host who imposes his religious choices on you: India is a democracy.  Your religion is your choice, not your host’s. The host, or any one else, has no business questioning your religious beliefs – or lack thereof.



It’s a party, not an Inquisition. As a guest, you should not be held accountable for whatever form of religion you practise (or do not practise). And as a guest at a purely social gathering, you should never be forced to participate in any religious activity that you are not comfortable with.  As a host, one is expected to respect that.

If your religious choices are not respected – you walk out.

The host who forces you to ‘perform’:  What are you, MTV or Comedy Central? Have you been invited to amuse the general public?

Unless you are a professional performer who’s being paid, or unless you really enjoy making a middle-aged spectacle of yourself, or unless you are Hema Malini in Sholay trying to save Dharam’s life, you should not be forced to sing like Rafi, dance like Shammi, or re-enact some dumb-ass comedy scene from Amar Akbar Anthony, or whatever.

Unless everyone else joins in. That’s different. If everyone is willing to make drunken asses out of themselves, then actively encourage them – and sit back and enjoy. And quietly disappear when the cops arrive.

Recently, I was obliged to attend a family function. Apart from the unhygienic food and apart from holier-than-thou uncles and aunts who kept berating me for not knowing anything about our glorious ‘sampradaya’, there was one ancient great-grand aunt who, for some reason, wanted me to sing. She kept insisting, and I kept politely refusing, for a very good reason – I cannot sing.  The old lady got really cranky and stubborn, and all those uncles and aunts joined her in support.  At which point, I walked off.

I was later told that the old lady in question felt ‘hurt’.  I could not care less. The blame rested solely on the host for making a public buffoon out of his guest, in this case, myself.

The host who pokes into your personal matters or allows his guests to: This is self-evident. It is the ultimate expression of bad culture. It is sheer bad manners. And yet it happens all the time, whether it’s a wedding or a birthday party or even a condolence meeting.

You are there in the party to relax and socialise … not to have your innards ripped open by gossip-mongers and self-appointed moral guardians.  If this happens, then no matter what the event is,  you do not hesitate, do not think twice, do not even take a seat. You walk.

The host who forces guests to drink:  Do you really need to be with people who would force hard liquor down a teetotaller’s throat? Even he happens to be your boss, you are well within your rights to walk off. There are corporate laws against this sort of harassment you know.

I did this to one of my former employers. The MD of that company was (and still is) a particularly boorish character. He was notorious for forcing his subordinates to drink and make a fool of themselves for his entertainment. At the annual sales conference, he forced me to drink. I didn’t. He locked me in the hotel toilet as punishment. I called up the hotel security from the intercom, had myself released, walked up to that Anus who was my boss, and told him on his face – I quit.

Ten years later, I was sitting on the purchase committee of a pharma client, negotiating with vendors for a biotech lab contract, worth half a million dollars (Rs. Two and a half crores, to be precise). The Anus was one of the vendors. He lost the contract, obviously. Poetic justice, eh?

If you’re being forced to drink at an event hosted by a dear friend, then it’s worse. However, a host who doesn’t understand the word NO, doesn’t deserve you as a guest. If he’s a personal friend, then you don’t need such a friend. Walk out.

Your health, physical or mental, is your responsibility.  The personal choices you make in your life are strictly yours.  There is no compelling need for you to allow anyone else to make your choices, and thereby endanger your health, your loved ones, or your career, just to fit into a social circle that you think you should fit into.

In truly developed countries, there are laws that protect you as a guest. In India, alas, all that you can do as a hapless guest is to walk.

As Dylan Thomas once said while leaving a bad party, “And now gentlemen, like your manners, I must leave you.”

Cheers … Srini.

Hail to you, Muse of Poetry …



Appreciation of fine poetry was never one of my virtues. With the exception of nursery rhymes and naughty limericks, I have always kept myself at arm’s length from the world of poetry. Quatrains and verses stirred nothing in me, rhyme and meter meant little, prosody a waste of my time.

When my friend Usha Rajagopalan prevailed upon me to purchase her book on the poetry of Subramania Bharati, I did so with some reluctance. The book remained safely unread on my shelf for a long time, until I finally took it up one idle winter’s evening.

And then something very strange happened. For the first time in many years, I read a book from cover to cover in one single sitting, without so much as rising from my chair for a break.

All I knew of Subramania Bharati was what I had learnt about him in school and what I had heard from my mother. That he was a renowned Tamil poet and a nationalist was not unknown to me, but other than that I knew little of him.

Thanks to Usha, I am now significantly enlightened – and quite furious with myself for not learning Tamil formally, when I had the opportunity.

Translating the work of a poet of Subramania Bharati’s stature is no mean feat, but then Usha Rajagopalan is no mean author herself. Most people have the very wrong idea that translation is a simple matter. Far from it. Almost anybody can transliterate. Few people can translate. And fewer still understand the fundamental difference between the two.

Usha demonstrates an insight that is not often seen among translators, as she accurately translates selected poems from the Mahakavi’s vast repertoire. In doing so, she gives the ignorant reader, i.e. myself, a look into the man’s mind and heart.

“The darkness of ignorance fades into the air, the radiant sun of knowledge rises steadily, casting its luminous golden rays everywhere…”.

My general impression of Subramania Bharati was that he was a fierce nationalist and that his poetry was largely anti-British in character.

“To take the name of Bharat, our country,
is to kill the fear of poverty and grievous enmity”.

“The mighty Himalayas belong to us!
The copious sweet Ganga is ours too”.

What I never knew that he was also a social reformist:

“The four castes are one.

If any of them were missing,

All occupation would be shattered,

And mankind would perish”.

And a feminist:

“Foster women’s wisdom and see,
The world shed its ignorance”.

And a passionate lover:

“I have fallen in love with you, Valli, with you!
Sweeter than life, you have no equal”.

And a philosopher:

“Show mercy to the enemy, kindly heart.
Show mercy to the enemy”.

One now realises that Subramania Bharati was a multi-faceted genius with a towering intellect and strength of character. What an enormous pity that he died so young, killed by serious injuries caused by a temple elephant.

Riveted to one’s chair, fascinated by what Usha Rajagopalan tells us about Subramania Bharati, one finally emerges with

“knowledge with clarity … and .. warm feelings that well up and flood the body”.

Of special mention is The Stream, this being the painting that makes the cover of Usha’s book, rendered by Achuthan Ramachandran, a Padma Bhushan awardee and one of India’s finest mural painters.

Usha tells me that her next book on the Mahakavi is in the offing. This time, I will not hesitate to read it!

Cheers … Srini.

Tea without sympathy – An Era of Darkness.

dsc08186History belongs in the past, but understanding it is the duty of the present. So Dr Shashi Tharoor proves in his latest book, An Era of Darkness, The British Empire in India.

Tharoor takes up the task of dispelling any illusions one might have had about the British Raj in India. In this he succeeds very well. Unlike many of my fellow Macaulayputras, as Tharoor refers to us (and himself), and in spite of my Catholic schooling, I always knew the British were not the ‘enlightened despots’ that our textbooks would have us believe.

Over the years, my own informal research into the subject made me realise how brutal and exploitative the Raj actually was.

Even so, An Era of Darkness is an eye-opener. Tharoor brings to light several nasty facts about the Raj that I never knew, and by his own admission, he did not know himself. Consider India’s caste system. Like many other Indians, Tharoor included, I too thought that the rigidity of our caste system and its consequent evils, predated the British.

However, “the idea of the four-fold caste order stretching across all of India…was only developed…under the peculiar circumstances of British colonial rule“.

As also the Hindu-Muslim divide, which haunts India till this day. “Religion“, states Tharoor, “became a useful means of divide and rule“. The Hindu-Muslim divide, we now learn, was a deliberate British strategy.

It comes as an unpleasant surprise that much of what we were taught about India’s pre-Raj history, and still are being taught, is essentially of British construction.

As exemplified by India’s most notorious Anglophile, the “cringe-worthy” Nirad Chaudhuri, as Tharoor aptly describes him, “colonialism misappropriated and reshaped” how we saw our own history and cultural self-definition.

The good Doctor endorses my copy of his book.

Thus, page by page, Tharoor’s book unapologetically and systematically lays bare the reality of the Raj. The scientist in me demands hard evidence, and Tharoor does not disappoint. The book is thoroughly researched, with an exhaustive list of references at the end. One expects nothing less from a scholar who holds multiple doctoral degrees.

What I admire about the man is his lack of hesitation in pointing out the wrong-doings and mistakes committed by Indian leaders of the day, that served the British cause well.

Take for example his explanation of why Nehru’s decision to order his colleagues to resign from all provincial ministries in 1939, was “a monumental blunder“. As also Tharoor’s unflattering and accurate analysis of the Quit India movement of 1942.

Notwithstanding their errors of judgement, he does acknowledge Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru as the great leaders and statesmen they really were.

Tharoor is especially harsh though, and very deservedly so, on Winston Churchill. The truth about this alleged “apostle of freedom” is described in considerable detail in the book.

Thankfully, Tharoor firmly dispels any apprehensions about my favorite English author, PG Wodehouse. There were times when I would feel a bit guilty about enjoying Wodehouse so much, on the belief that he was a colonialist. Tharoor assures me that I am wrong, to my considerable relief.

Frightening, enlightening, educational, spine-chilling, profound and made immensely readable by the author’s characteristic style of writing, An Era of Darkness is a volume that one would recommend to serious students of Indian history and to connoisseurs of the English language alike. Tharoor is the only English author for whom I need a dictionary (or Google) by my side.

One reading of the book will not suffice, I must tell you. You will need to read the volume two or three times to understand its import, that “sometimes the best crystal ball is a rear-view mirror“…

… and that one does not need to espouse right-wing values in order to be a true nationalist.

Cheers … Srini.