If love means never having to say you’re sorry, being in North Bengal means never having to say “thank you.” People don’t commonly say thank you here – or I should say, they don’t commonly express gratitude by saying thank you. Rather, to the extent one would express gratitude, it should be expressed via action – through attitude and behavior.
But another undercurrent is at work here: saying “thank you,” implies the other person is not generous, that they would not be willing to bend over backwards for you and do anything at all for someone they care about. It’s not exactly an insult, but it doesn’t speak well of your opinion of them.
It is part of the hospitality culture that to my mind very nearly defines Bengali culture. On any given day, it is common for people to drop by others’ homes for a visit at any time, and when they do, it is only natural to offer them – not just offer, but make sure they take – a cup of tea, a meal, a sweet (mishti – literally “sweet,” usually milk-based treats that Bengal is justifiably famous for). On one occasion when I went to someone’s house with our friend Sam (Samarpan – he teaches English at Maynaguri College) Sam happened to have a bad stomach. The mistress of the house offered him a snack, which he declined. She offered again, again he declined. Back and forth they went, with the end result being that even though she knew he had a bad stomach, she insisted he eat just half an omelet which she then freshly prepared for him. To be polite, he complied. That’s a tricky one, isn’t it – bending over backwards to be hospitable, to the extent that you actually are imposing on someone. I call that a case of aggressive hospitality!
For the last few days I have been staying with Sam and his wife, Rakhi, and their nearly nine-year-old son, Riom (and Sam’s mother and father) at their house in Maynaguri, 45 kilometers and a rough, rugged two hour drive from Siliguri. Maynaguri is the town, and Sam’s is the house, where Caroline and I stayed when I did my previous Fulbright in India in 2010. In the few days I’ve been here, I have experienced Sam’s and Rakhi’s bend-over-backwards generosity in so many ways that I can’t even name them. But one way that I can name came the day after I arrived, when it turned out that in order to complete the very complicated – and mandatory — process of registering as a foreign resident with the Indian government, I needed documents I had stupidly left behind in Siliguri. Without missing a beat, Sam made arrangements for a driver to take us (me, Sam, Rakhi and Riom) back to Siliguri to get the necessary documents and then return to Maynaguri so that we would still be able to enjoy our time together.
It’s pretty hard not to say thank you to that kind of generosity. And yet at the same time, it’s impossible to say thank you, because it is so totally inadequate to expressing how much you appreciate someone and all they have done to love and care for you. In fact, as I write this, I can’t help but think of the people who stepped up to the plate to stand by my side when I was going through cancer treatment. People who literally and figuratively made me eat “half an omelet” when I could hardly bear to eat! Sometimes aggressive hospitality is exactly what we need! “Thank you” is all I can say, but it isn’t nearly enough.
A Northwesterner in North Bengal 