A visit to change it all....

I hate going to somebody's house when i don't really know them. When they open the door half-expecting you to be a door-to-door salesperson (i guess its the kurta jhola look that makes them think I have some homemade pickles stowed away in my jhola), my mouth runs dry before i break into my toothiest grin and introduce myself. And the greatest fear that grips my throat and makes me nauseated at the very thought of visiting people i don't know is WHAT DO I SAY? I mean I love to talk and all that. But after I know their entire family tree, the name of the dog they owned in 1978, the entire school curriculum of their third child and the 'inside story' about all their neighbours, WHAT NEXT??? I hate gaps in conversation when you just lie back on the couch and grin like an idiot or dust imaginary crumbs from your shirt, while your mind is desparately trying to grab onto another thread of talk with a longer runtime potential.

And thats exactly what went through my mind when they told us that we have to do a field study for our project. I am working with children and my field study involved spending time in the school with the Senior KG Class. (which was a really nice experience....the bunch of kids were well-behaved and my bag didnt get plundered. Neither did they make fun of my red chappals with big black knobs between the first two toes - which I have realised over some time are objects of derision among the very old and very young and everyone in between :(( ) I also had to go to their homes and interact with their parents and siblings which was what bothered me in the first place.

Anyways...there I was in the auto fighting an urge to stop the auto and go back the campus. Finally after 15 minutes of road-rage and gujju galis by irate drivers, the autowallah deposited me in front of a huge pharmacy. Another 10 minutes of asking around and walking finally got me to the society where the child stayed. I took a deep breath and walked up to his house. Thankfully, I had met his mother and sister earlier. That would spare me the 'oh-are-u-another-salesgirl?' look.

The door was open. And through the door I could see atleast ten people bustling inside - eating, cooking, hurrying about. I had called earlier, so they would be expecting me. But maybe they had had some unexpected guests. What should I do? I stood at the door and didn't really have to wait much, for I got dragged in with a nice boisterous welcome. They were all unknown faces and yet seemed so familiar when they gave me that understanding smile. I made a feeble explanation about how I was late cos I had a little trouble in locating the house. But it was lost in the hoopla of making way between all the people and escorting me to the first floor. A glass of very cold water put me at ease. Who I had mistaken for 'unexpected guests' were actually family members who now surrounded me as I sat on the bed and pulled out my guideline questionnaire and book and pen. Two little girls with big round eyes which followed every movement of my hands. An elderly woman who sat on the floor with the mother and gaped at me with faint curiosity (thank god I left my chappals outside the house). A bhaiyya and bhabi duo who sat next to me and nodded vehemently when I told them about my project. And of course, the child under study, still in his school uniform scrawling away to glory on his slate oblivious to the fact that he is a guinea pig (albeit in a social setting :)

I started with the usual questions about age and family details and stuff. They are 6 siblings the eldest one being 23 years old (married with a 2 year old child) and the youngest one being 6 years old. The mother proudly said 'India is such a huge country thanks to women like me. What is this 1 or 2 children thing? See...I bore 6 children. If we have to play cricket , we dont even have to look for outside help. We will make a great team." She laughed as she talked and playfully hit me on my arm while making a point. She then went on to explain how people from her community have many children in the quest to have a son. She is a very spirited woman, considering the fact that two of her children are deaf since birth. But never once did she speak of the problems and difficulties.

Somewhere in between the conversation, a cup of tea surfaced from the ground floor. I was thankful for it . But the mother held it in her hand and would not give it to me. I guessed that she may not want to interrupt my questioning process. So I kept quiet for a while. But still she wouldn't. Finally I gave up and resumed my questions while watching the tea getting cold in her hand. Her reluctance I later realised was because she had asked for biscuits to go with the tea and didn't want me to finish the tea before the biscuits arrived. Later I had the reheated tea with half a dozen biscuits. :)))

For a novice surveyor, I do a decent job. But this cheerful lady almost had me. When I asked her husband's occupation, she said 'majdoori' which is what day laborers do at construction sites. The family looked quite affluent. I never knew majdoori could be so profitable. I was thoroughly confused. I changed the tack of questioning. But it still rankled me. So I hazarded another question 'does his father work quite far away?' and the bhaiyya-bhabhi duo nodded and informed me that he owns a jewellery shop nearby. And the entire lot of them laughed politely at the ignorant visitor (yours truly) who had in her academic zeal and confusion missed the giggles from the little girls and the gleam in the mother's eye as she said 'majdoori' with a poker face.

The more I spoke to them, somehow I felt drawn into the family and so much a part of them. I understood their subtle jokes. I could grasp the mechanics of the mother daughter relationship when the daughter jovially called her mother as 'uneducated' and 'angootha chaap' and she retaliated with how she managed the family jewellery business so well. They invited me to stay over for dinner with promises of yummy Rajasthani food and offered to drop me back to my hostel. I so wanted to stay. Or rather my stomach wanted me to stay and the rest of me agreed. But then thinking about my earlier feelings and reluctance made me feel guilty and I didnt want to impose my 'hale-n-healthy' appetite on them. So I refused.

After having taken some photos (more because I felt like it than for academic record), I said my goodbyes. They all stood at the door, waving me goodbyes as the mother accompanied me till the road. The small walk was seized as the perfect opportunity to advise me, a young girl unknown to the ways of the world, about how it is unsafe to travel alone and that I should not do it again, especially so late into the evening. (I considered telling her about how I once travelled from the airport to the campus at 1 am all alone....but spared the the good lady a cardiac arrest by keeping mum)
And then she made sure I got safely into the auto (which was driven by a sweet-looking old uncle and not some young driver with shifty eyes) and haggled with the driver to reduce the fare from the usual 40 rupees to a special just-for-this-good-little-young-lady 30 Rs. She asked me to visit again and held on to my hand till we drove on.

I still feel paranoid about visiting people I dont know. I still have the dry-mouth syndrome when I stand on their doorsteps. But after that day's visit, I have this faint hope in me that the next family I encounter might be like them. And that is what makes me go on. :)