This happened on an ordinary Cambridge street. Dr. V and I ran into acquaintances, who in turn had friends (from medical school; a grandmother & granddaughter) visiting from Australia. Polite introductions. Small talk. The weather. Then, inevitably, India.
One of the women mentioned that her husband was “half Indian.” She smiled and added that he had told her she would definitely not like India. This was offered casually, as if it were neutral information, not an insult delivered in front of two Indians.
Trying to keep the exchange courteous, I mentioned Sri Lanka; not as a deflection, but as a bellwether. Our mutual acquaintances had already mentioned enjoying seeing my birthday pictures from there so I thought it a natural segue.
It is often how people test their appetite for the subcontinent: more contained, more legible, still culturally rich. If one enjoys that, India follows naturally; if not, India can feel overwhelming. This was not a provocation. Yet the suggestion was met with laughter, as though I had committed a social error. It was after this, not before, that the tone hardened and the remark about her granddaughter emerged, delivered with surprising persistence, as if the earlier politeness had licensed open disdain.
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