culture

true story. today. Amazon delivers something to our home nearly everyday. one of the home delivery guys is getting familiar with me. he came yesterday, rang my bell twice, called my phone thrice, I didn't open. came again after me calling him. and then he came again today, with a different shipment. because I was till just a few days ago, living on my US credit card, I got into the habit of ordering stuff online choosing COD (cash on delivery). this is cash country anyway, and I've had a couple of shipments lost in transit lately, and returns and refunds are a hassle if prepaid, so why not. right? plus I'm told because of the cultural lack of trust here, people prefer paying for things after its in their hands, and the easiest form of hand-to-hand payment is of course, cash. half the time I even forget that I haven't paid for it already. anyway, so yesterday I paid cash. today I was ready with cash, but neither of us had exact change. he took the opportunity to suggest a contractual shift. "madam, aaj card de do". I was reluctant to do a card transaction on his phone-attachment. on inquiring why the sudden change in preference, he started telling me his woes. "madam aajkal robbery ho rahi hai. kal hi hamare do aadmiyon ko loot liya. 6 hazaar rupaiye." I was curious and smiling, despite the reporting of the tragedy. "aise kaise aap logon ko road par chalte chalte rob kar lete hain?" . in reply, "fake order karte hain madam, aur delivery karne jao to pakad lete hain aur paise le lete hain.". i was smiling more, half in admiration, half in sympathy, half at the ridiculousness of it all. i gave him card, imagining the scene he had described, and closed my door. later i was in the audience to an academic seminar. a macroeconomic theory paper - on culture and growth. its abstract promised it would be interesting. within half hour of listening to the author i gave up. not just abstract but a limited idea of culture - learned preference for certain professions, with the choice of what culture to pass down to one's kids; with the opportunity cost of time spent with kids coming from the wages of the profession one is working in. i spent time after that roaming through some lanes of south west delhi, in autos, with my phone camera; watching people and arguing with autowalas. i ate in a Naga restaurant in a tiny lane. i was once again, the only brown person in a place. i overheard snippets of conversation, i wondered if i felt at home there, if the others there felt at home there. i wondered what would be the (cultural) definition of being indian.