Cultural Education and Experience in India

I had promised myself I would make use of some of my readings in intercultural communication with my own experience here in India. So, here it is.


My approaches to adjusting to India was informed by an article penned by Gary Weaver, a professor in the field of intercultural communications, called, "Understanding and Coping with Cross Cultural Adjustment Stress."

Weaver gives three explanations for the occurrence of culture shock:

1) the loss of familiar cues
2) the breakdown of interpersonal communication
3) an identity crisis


I experienced stress more from explanations 1 and 2, with 3 being a distant third which may become more of a factor as I continue adapting to India.


The Loss of Familiar Cues


"Cues," Weaver writes, "are signposts which guide us through our daily activities in an acceptable fashion which is consistent with the total social environment." p.178

"They may be words, gestures, facial expressions, postures, or customs.......they tell us when or how to give gifts or tips, when to be serious or humorous, how to speak to leaders and subordinates, who has status, what to say when we meet people, when and how to shake hands, how to eat......they make us feel comfortable because they seem so automatic and natural." p. 178


The social cues in India are different from the cues in Michigan, and I had some experience with this through the time spent with Navjot's family, before I even came to India. One 'crossed cue' which was too uncomfortable for me to alter in the States was my habit of saying a gracious thank-you to either Mom or Grandma after eating one of their fantastic meals. To me, their cooking is an investment of their time which they could use to do other things. For them, spending two to four hours dong cooking and cooking related work is what they do. It is the expected, (unpaid), work of a wife and mother, but even more than that, their mastery and consistency in this work seems to be a strong part of their identity as good wives and mothers in a family. Therefore, hearing my thank-you actually gives them a little discomfort, because to hear it may suggest (to others) that they are motivated by recognition, instead of the purer value of being a very good wife, mother, and member of the Indian family/extended family. After some explanations by me, and just to be nice, Mom says, "Your welcome," instead of giving a slightly reproachful look couched within a bewildered expression, sharply exclaiming: "Why thank-you? You're family!"

Other familiar social exchanges, such as: "Hey, how're ya doin?" and "Good afternoon" and "Good morning" which are some of my favorite greetings, are absent in India (except as a joke from Vinay, "Yo, Whatssssssssup, Grandma....Whatsssssssup?" (which I quietly find hilarious). Here, religious affiliation dictates the greeting you give to adults. For Hindus, you put your hands together and say, "Namaste," or "Namaskaar," depending on the dialect or region....you can kick it up a notch with adding a further respectful designation, "ji"....which becomes: "Namaste-ji" and "Namaskaarji". For Sikhs, the greeting is "Susrikall...or Susrikallji" I have adapted the 'ji' version because as a foreigner who does not have, and never will attain, all the social cues, I need to pursue maximum amounts of social points whenever possible.

Being non-religious (a secular humanist) at best I feel uncomfortable, at worst, I resent, pandering to religious sentiment to begin my interactions with people here.

"Cues also serve as reinforces of behavior because they signal if things are being done appropriately."-p 179.

Many articles in this collection on Intercultural Relations reiterate that American, Swiss, and German cultures have a low-context, heterogeneous nature, meaning we want explicit rules of behavior so our interactions have a high amount of predictability. Non-western cultures, like India, have a high-context, homogeneous orientation, meaning the rules of conduct are learned implicitly, any request for specific guides are met with vague replies, since the info was never directly taught to anyone (the rules were inferred).

In Michigan, when I invited Navjot's sister to my school to do henna tattoos, I tried to prepare her for the experience: the typical behavior of the children and why, the typical behavior of the teachers in the classroom and in the lunchroom, and why. Didi is intelligent, personable, and outgoing, who could put herself at ease anyway, but I like to think that the cultural preparation helped Didi to quickly make herself 'at home' those days in our little community.

In India, Navjot, Mom, and Didi, they try, they really do try to prep me for the unknown. But there are some things that are so automatic, that it doesn't 'pop up' in their consciousness that I won't know how to act in a certain way until a few seconds before the opportunity comes for me to act. These minefields within India's cultural landscape have become rather treacherous for me at an unlikely time: when we entertain Punjab/Indian company in our apartment.

Before guests arrive, Navjot doesn't say, "Jamie, it is better if we behave like Indians even if we don't usually do it. This means only you will prepare anything that will be served, you will serve the items in this particular order: water/juices/sodas, then teas with snacks. 15 min after you offer the water set, offer tea, if they say no, offer 10 min later and make it regardless. Bring the tea, and set the tray on the table. If they don't reach for it, set a cup in front of the eldest person. Continue setting cups until everyone has a cup in front of them. Then provide a plate of cookies/snacks. Again, circulate this plate to each person. Repeat the cookie tray act at least once more. When the last person finishes, collect the cups and wash them. Although I would usually help with dishes at home, when company is here, you will do all of this kitchen work, because that is how Indians do it."

You may think, "Whoa, she says they have a cook! The cook does the dishes! Why is she whining about doing tea dishes? Geez! Talk about high maintenance! Poor Nav. He probably has to hear a lot of nagging."

Maybe Navjot thought the above too.

My best explanation is that the event above demonstrates a time when Nav 'shifts' from our own 'Jamie-Nav' culture, to "Indian" culture. I feel 'demoted' in some odd sense, like my power standing in the household went from co-CEO to a servant, or a child. The experiences of these feelings disturb me, because I do not mind making people comfortable in our home. Perhaps the difference lies in the intensity of the sentiments. I 'do not mind' making people comfortable. Indians take the comfort of their guests very seriously. My intensity does not match theirs, therefore, when placed in the role of providing, 'serious comfort', I feel out of my element, yet, later I will endure little aftershocks of guilt, since I so often enjoy the hospitality bestowed upon me by Indians, yet I inherently lack their zeal to master their moves myself and return the favor. It has the same smell as a statement I made, to my own surprise, to my sister-in-law, Michelle, on Christmas Day: "I think I like receiving more than giving (presents)."


I have felt strangely while performing these duties each time. Isolation and anxiety pervades the kitchen, or, if Nav is absent from the home at this time, the entire house. Perhaps this feeling of isolation comes from experiencing a role that is mutually exclusive...a role shared by no-one else. Only I tend the kitchen and serving. Or I could be feeling the rigidity of the role.

Yep, having a job myself is looking pretty good from where I'm standing...rigid roles seem to lose a bit of their grip when a woman has a career too.

Instead, before guests arrive, there were no pre-play strategies. Navjot said, "You'll be fine." But, soon into the gathering, I started receiving instructions, when Navjot noticed that I haven't done items on the implicit guest itinerary at a 'certain' time. I received the instruction after the fact, but I responded, internally, as if I were directly taught the material, but I had not performed it correctly, and so I was receiving public chastisement. I became anxious, and watched Navjot and the guests, hoping for a clue that will help me avoid another inadvertent chastising. If I were to explicitly ask questions about best procedures, then the gathering could become a garish mass of confusions: some wanting to help me with these basics, others preferring that I don't take the trouble. The latter see themselves as 'hosts of India' and I am a guest...even though we are all in my apartment. Plug this formula into several other social scenarios: visiting a gurudwara, visiting Guruji's family, visiting Navjot's family, and you have my social experience in India.

Or, for longer-stay guests: "Jamie, you will be seeing to the guests. I will continue my regular routine even more strictly than I would if there were no guests. We don't do it this way at 1430 New York Ave, but it is permissible in India, so therefore, this is the way I will conduct myself when we have guests." Nope. I never heard those words. But this was exactly how our guests experienced our recent stint as hosts. My subsequent anxiousness and periods of silence created a strained atmosphere, and I bewildered Navjot with my frustrations with his absences. At the time neither of us really understood my un-Zen-like demeanor. But hey, I like predictability, and these scenarios have not unfolded in any predictable way.

To add on to what felt like a mountain of failure with our recent guests, I still was not able to navigate the Indian way of handling someone's personal upset.

My way: Create a safe haven where I am alone, it is quiet, I make the boundaries, and from there, I can reset myself and put my rational mind in charge of the situation. Then, I feel 'safer' with my senses and my behavior, I venture back out, ready to give the world what I would prefer them to see.

Indian way: Talk to me and problem-solve until I am happy again.

See 'problem-solve' has sinister connotations for me regarding loved ones wanting to 'get to the bottom' of what is bothering me. Nine times out of ten, what the loved ones end up doing is trying to convince me to understand why such and such has to be this way (the way I don't like), and, since they have rationalized the issue for me, I can see it their way, accept it and 'be happy!' HA!


Maybe I can participate in such an exchange, but if I feel that burning need to isolate myself, then my rational mind is not in charge, and so I would not be interested in knowing why something needs to be the way I don't want it. So why force it? Perhaps when Indians become emotional, they find it easier to plug back into the rational mindset in the presence of loved ones. I don't. I have learned to be AWAY from loved ones to re-set. That lesson was essential to my survival as a child...and my transition to an adult. I don't think I can change that approach.


But my withdrawal at best confuses, at worst hurts, the loved ones (particularly the Indian side) around me, perhaps because they believe if I won't have them near to help me to feel better, then I do not love them. I do love them, but I do not like arguments, and I don't like telling people things that will hurt them just because it bothers me. My way of interacting is indeed still a work in progress.


Also, my rational mind may believe that I still think X is a bunch of baloney, but I can't change people, so I just have to regain the perspective that I am playing a role, but I am not the role, so, I will adjust according to my preferences when I can do so. Obviously a discussion with people who believe the opposite will likely result in an argument, and perhaps rifts will be formed with people I'd rather be close to. Nowadays my approach to conflict in the family is: If you can do it delicately, and if it is very important, do it. If not, avoid it. I have engaged in enough arguments and rifts within my own family to last me 1000 lifetimes!


You would think that entertaining guests with tea, and overnight stays comprise only simple sets of easy rules. They are!! But, I naturally do not adhere to strict 'host rules.' Growing up, gatherings were informal, buffet-style affairs. Today, people who come to my house at 1430 tend to feel pretty comfortable, and sometimes I offer water/tea, sometimes we are chatting and I don't think of it, but if they are thirsty, they will ask for water, or they will just help themselves (Amy does this and I love it!) So, will I adapt to a more formal way of hosting while I am in India, and thus be more comfortable with it? We'll see!


This rant about my cultural and personal struggles strayed a tad from the original "Loss of Familiar Cues." But maybe not. Weaver says we experience pain and frustration when we do not receive reinforcements from our behavior. I can safely say that my behavior has elicited few reinforcements. Instead, I am offered confused looks, and reprogramming. Hence, perhaps, the anxiety, the silence, and a stronger need for Navjot's presence during these social settings.


My ego needs to see and hear, "Oh my, but isn't she socially astute?" In Navjot n Jamie's culture, I hear that a lot. In Indian culture, I hear crickets; albeit friendly crickets. Well, I would if there weren't so many drivers beeping their horns.