Living with an Indian family for 10 days: How to put this adventure into words?

How many words will I need to describe the apartment authentically so that you, dear readers, can also smell the cardamom scent of the fragrant dishes that are spread in various aluminum pots over the white-grey tiled floor when all family members sit down to eat there three times a day?

How many words will I need to describe how heavenly cool air from the AC can feel on your skin at night when 4 people plus Teddy the dog are sleeping on coconut mats on the floor in one single room with 28°C outside temperature?

How many words will I need to describe the beauty of the people surrounding me here, the long black curly hair of Shamili and Durga, the beautifully bright green colour of mother Jothi's sari blouse and the brown skin of her delicate neck, which is visible due to the deep back neckline of her Sari blouse?

How many words will I need to describe father Govindaraj's long white lunghi skirt that elegantly wraps around his long legs, which looks quite funny with his bare potbelly in the morning?

Describing all these thousands and thousands of puzzle pieces of my impressions in words is almost impossible, I just realised. Here we simply reach the limits of what words can express. These secrets will only be revealed in full to those who are given the precious gift of being invited to live in this family. And yet I will try to make an attempt and take you onto this journey with pictures and some reflections.

Basic rule #1 in Indian families: Zero privacy

One of the most characteristic features in Indian families is the following inescapable law that everyone has to accept very quickly: There is zero privacy 😀😀 Over the course of 10 days, I quickly learn that the only privacy you have in the midst of an Indian family is when you lock the door behind you in the bathroom and, if things go well, have 5 minutes of peace and quiet there. 

After my arrival in the Govindaraj family's 3-room apartment, which is located in a yellow three-storey apartment building in a side street near Tiruvanmiyur beach in Chennai, Durga's explanation of the sleeping situation for the next 10 days made it straight into the category of cultural shock 😁:

Durga and I are standing in an adjoining room, which is separated from the living room by an own door. There's a lovely wooden bed in this room and a thick quilt rolled out on the floor on the opposite wall. Durga bought it especially for me so that I would feel comfortable. Based on my habits as a European, I conclude that this must be the guest room. I assume that the quilt will be put on the bed and I will then sleep in the wooden bed. Alone. Just me, the bed, the quilt, the 2 wardrobes and the small desk in this room. In oder to doublecheck my dead-sure assumption assuming I now can unpack my backpack right here and make myself comfortable, I ask Durga if I'm going to sleep in the wooden bed. Casually, Durga replies: "No, my father sleeps in that bed". 

I am laughing because this answer does not fit at all into my catalog of expected answers and I frown in irritation. I'm sure I didn't ask my question clearly, so I ask Durga what exactly she means. It also possible that she's pulling my leg, maybe it's an Indian sense of humour that I don't know yet. In any case, those are the only two logical explanations, my brain concludes. 

How to sleep in India: a step-by-step guide for foreigners

Durga is beaming at me, the joy of my arrival is still written all over her face which is really touching. She leans under the bed and pulls out a light brown coconut mat. She places the mat between the wooden bed and the quilt and explains to me with large hand gestures: "This is where my father sleeps (she points to the wooden bed), this is where Shamili and my mother sleep (she points twice to the coconut mat) and this is where you sleep (she points to the quilt). This is the only room in the apartment with air conditioning." I suddenly realize the significance of this unexpected information and laugh hysterically. Durga is not joking. I can see that in her face. She adds: "Teddy sleeps with you too. Only I sleep in a different room because I get up at 3:30 in the morning to meditate and don't want to disturb anyone."

I make a wry smile and a series of agitated thoughts are flashing through my mind: I can't believe the family is sleeping on the floor. On a thin coconut mat on the cold, hard tiled floor. That's totally uncomfortable. I also can't believe that it is reserved for the father to sleep on the only bed, while all the women have to sleep on the floor at his feet. This is a strongly patriarchal family order and I find the idea quite unbearable. This is not at all what I had in mind. I want my own room!

The practical test

Let's fast-forward the story: I decide to give the whole set-up a chance, after all, I'm here to broaden my cultural horizon. I want to test the whole thing for at least one night and evaluate the next morning where the experience lands on a scale from 0 to 10 (0 extremely unbearable, I need a hotel) and ten (I would prefer to sleep like this for the rest of my life).

The next morning, I wake up and I am surprised: I actually slept well, the room was as quiet as a mouse despite all the people and the dog, no one was snoring, the single fart from Govinderaj in the middle of the night was bearable, and I am extremely grateful for the air conditioning - and the quilt is really super comfortable. I am giving the experience a surprising 5!

In the course of the week, Shamili tells me that she used to be the person who slept on the wooden bed for a while in the past, but because she developed back pain, she now prefers to sleep on the floor and her pain has disappeared since. This happened even on the advice of their doctor. Over the course of the week, we visit some relatives and acquaintances of the family in the neighborhood and I am amazed to see that all the families have exactly the same set-up when it comes to sleeping: the whole family sleeps in a single room on coconut mats, only one bed is at the side and apart from the wardrobe, there is no furniture as the tiled floor fills up with people at night. I have to say, in Indian families you really shouldn't have any fear of contact (or place too much value on privacy) 😉.

Conclusions: 

1. It's good to have a scale on which you can rate new experiences and use this scale to prevent premature defensive reactions, especially when you are about to get to know foreign cultures
2. Privacy is a priviledge
3. Just because I take something for granted it doesn't mean that other people on this planet take it for granted too
4. I like the closeness that a family shares when the family members sleep together, for example when Shamili's arm wanders over to me at night or when she stroked my hand before falling asleep
5. It's touching to sleep in a room full of cherished people, to hear their breathing, to feel their trust and see how they surrender to each other so vulnerably. It is a gift to be part of this.

Lots of Love,

Your Salome