jonathan/ferguson

i’ve been having hilarious discussions recently with two friends over the cultural differences between indians and, say americans, at the dinner table or at restaurants. even out for coffee. the culture of sharing here runs deep. food is shared. space is shared. money is shared. as family and friends, what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine.

in general, i’ve gotten used to it. people reaching across the table, dipping from my plate. i now assume that whatever i order will be eaten by more than just myself. so i choose wisely (i.e. order non-veg when i know everyone else at the table is veg). it’s not just because of the cultural environment. in general, indian food is designed for sharing. similar to our own family dinners or potlucks.

last night, over an individually ordered-jointly consumed dinner at an italian restaurant, where we all happened to order veg, the topic came up again. i was told that westerners don’t naturally share a thing when it comes to food. everything is kept separate. individual. “that’s not true!’ i said. “it depends on the food”, “on the context”. there are such things as shareable foods. my friend ankur ordered a pizza for his entree last night. it turned out to be huge. i knew right away that i could claim at least one piece due to sheer size. my pumpkin-filled ravioli, however, consisted of only six pieces, and i, therefore, had to reluctantly say, “yes of course take some!” when they sheepishly asked. but a small portion of ravioli is not a shareable food. pizza is. popcorn at the theater is. a single ice cream bar is not. french fries, always.

the discussion then shifted, as it always does, to the bill. who pays what. this is even debated among friends and families in the west. but here, there is a willingness to split a bill evenly regardless of whether you’ve eaten a thing. a friend once showed up at a restaurant and insisted on paying a third of the bill even though he’d arrived as we were leaving. makes me shamefully remember the days when my colleagues after work would evenly split bills and i would balk to myself because i had had only water while they had enjoyed real drinks.

just like at home, i’ve been out to dinner or coffee with people who insist on paying the whole bill, scolding me as i pull out my own money. they all use the line, “stop, you’re embarrassing me”. of course, i quickly put my money away, not wanting to commit any cultural faux pas. but sitting in mrs. kaur’s creperie this afternoon listening to an indian woman use that same line on her friend, i realized, it’s just one of those social-norm kind of lines. we have them too. “oh, i’ll get the bill next time”, even if you know you’ll never see them again. of course, in western society, it’s a way of evening out the predicament. a way to avoid simply accepting a nice gesture. a way to promise a return. a payback. you don’t sense that so much here, though it is expected that at some point i too would insist on paying, claiming embarrassment if they don’t allow me.

while i’m now somewhat used to reaching across the table, it isn’t something that i’ll have trouble unlearning upon my return home. these cultural do’s and don’ts have been ingrained since childhood. i’ll quickly remember how “rude” it is unless i’ve been given prior permission and we’re in a casual environment surrounded by shareable foods. until then, i’ll continue to reach, but only here and there. and not because it was rightfully mine from the moment it was ordered, but because i want a little taste to determine whether i’ll order it exclusively for myself the next time around.