Lunch time

I'm sitting at the desk, typing. I look over at the pile of papers next to the laptop, and I type a bit more. The director asked me to have the report ready by Friday, and it being one of my first assignments, I'm working hard at it, wanting only perfection.

Ferozana looks over at me from her corner of the desk, seeing my tense shoulders and flying fingers.

"You work too hard. You've been staring at that silly box since you got in this morning."

'Morning' would be a slight exaggeration being that she's referring to eleven o'clock, but she's right in a way. My work habits here are somewhat culturally inappropriate. I'm not quite used to the amount of leisure here, or the amount of laughter.

"Go take a walk or something." she says. "Or better yet, stay where you are, it's lunchtime!"

The lunch culture here is another thing that I've yet to fully adapt to, though I know that I love it.

Ferozana, Asunta, Manoj, Virochen and I all clear away our work as Dr. Adsule, the director of project Salokha, begins to lay down newspaper over the desk, forming a makeshift tablecloth. The daily ritual has begun.

Almost simultaneously, everyone brings out their tiffins, small metal containers that would find their American equivelent in tupperwear. I again find myself being the odd man out. I haven't yet had the opportunity to begin cooking my own lunch, having only moved into my flat a couple of days ago. I start to make a move towards the door to run to the canteen.

"Where are you going?" Dr. Adsule asks.
"Just to the canteen, I'll have them bring some food up for me." I reply, attemping once again bring something to the table.
"No no no. There's plenty of food here for all, you sit."

Everyone else nods in concurrence. I accept defeat today, though I've managed on some of the days to get them to let me contribute to their managerie of small tins with a dosa or some veg noodles from the canteen. I really need to start cooking.

As that last thought drifts from my head, my attention turns to the sound of metal lids popping off their containers, revealing the contents within.

"What do you have today Manoj?" Asunta asks with a half-joking tone and a smile.
"What do I have everyday? Chapatti and ladyfingers. Chapatti and eggs. Chapatti and potatos. I think today though, something new!" He looks down as he opens his tiffin, and his excitement drops. "Chapatti and eggs, the usual." he says in a somewhat downtrodden manner.
"Raphael, have some dal and chapatti," Virochen says with a wave of his hand towards the food. I'm always somewhat sheepish, being the only one there who's not offering something to the table. I feel kind of guilty eating their food, but they would have it no other way. I even think that if they knew I felt guilty, they might be offended.
"Asunta, have some subzi," Dr. Adsule says encouragingly, and she reaches over and takes some of the vegetables with a piece of chapatti.

And so goes the amazing dance of the Indian office cuisine. Everyone offering everyone else lunch; a fully communal meal during which all food is pushed towards the center of the desk, a variety of dishes for all.

The office lunch phenomenon, I think, is truly a mark of any culture. Here, the individual is oriented around community and family, whereas in the West the individual tends to be oriented more around his or her own needs. I'm definitely finding this to be the most dominant cultural gap, one the I will have to get used to. To be honest, I can't wait to put my own tiffin in the middle of the desk.