I am living at the United Missionary Girls’ High School in quarters that were originally used
when the Britishers colonized India and built the school. There are also twenty-seven primary and secondary girls who board
here, and the principal, my neighbor, Mrs. Bandana Chokrabarty and her family. The girls have a prayer service every evening
and I can hear them singing as I sit in my room across the courtyard. I eat the same food that is prepared for the girls–
rice, potatoes, and very delicious, spicy vegetables, with sometimes fish or egg. A few mornings they have come to my room
to visit or invite me to visit them.
It is important not to sleep late here and get the others off their schedule. Sashi Moshi, my adopted grandma– she
is in her seventies– arrives at 7:00 each morning to make me tea and toast– and today– a poached egg. And
even if it is 87 degrees outside, she still insists I completely finish the two cups of hot tea that she makes from boiled
tea leaves, powdered milk and sugar. Then she washes the dishes by hand in the shower.
Outside Pradip Nayak is discreetly coughing– he has a lot to do and it is getting hotter. Finally, Sashi Moshi allows
him to enter the room. "Good Morning, Mam," he says as he turns off the two ceiling fans and one pedestal fan that run continuously
night and day when I am here. Then he shakes and rolls up the two grass mats and begins to sweep the bedroom and bathroom
with a short handled, soft-whisked broom. He lifts furniture and rubber rugs at the entrance to each door; his back is bent
and his body close to his work. After he has removed the sweepings, he mixes a herbal insecticide/cleaner and water in a metal
bucket and with a clean cotton cloth begins to wipe the polished concrete floor stretching his arms in wide half circles.
The shiny, spotlessly clean floors are dry within ten minutes. Pradip finally takes my two small trash cans out each morning
and thoroughly washes them. Even though the windows and doors are open-- without screens or glass– there are very few
insects. (Of course there is a gecko– about 8 inches long– who scours the bathroom at night for mosquitos.)
This assisted life style has been a big paradigm shift for me, but I have come to some understanding of why it is necessary.
An Indian economics professor explained it this way. There were two gasoline companies in India. One was a Western company
that operated with only two employees; the Indian counterpart had 500 employees. Which is more efficient? He said that in
a nation of one billion people, the second model worked best. Mechanization deprives people of work.
In India, there are numerous people that enthusiastically participate in every job. For example, when I bought my toaster,
I encountered many different persons in the same small shop. First, there was the initial sales representative who referred
me to the specialist in toasters and whose assistant unwrapped and presented a specific toaster for my perusal. At this time
there was much discussion about the quality and price and several other persons in the shop made comments– usually in
Bengali. When my decision was made, one person swiped my credit card, one person wrote the receipt, one person tested the
toaster, and one person carefully restored the toaster to the box. Then my copy of the receipt was carefully stapled to my
bag. All this was done as the owner of the shop supervised the whole operation. When I went back to the same shop a day later
to buy an iron, I dealt with several different people– another department! Another example, at the grocery store there
is a parcel clerk who stores your bags and purse while you are inside shopping. She works with the guard who makes sure the
possessions are safe. In each aisle there are specialists in cosmetics or dairy or cereal to offer suggestions and daily specials.
Then, of course, there is the checker, the bagger and the doorman!
At the school there are many men that live in a small dorm area at the front gate of the school. You can be assured that
all coming and goings are carefully noted. The men monitor the cars and buses that enter the grounds, plus all the parents
who bring and pick up their children (there are about two thousand students in the primary and secondary combined and hundreds
of parents gather twice a day). These men are also specialists– electricians, custodians, gardeners, drivers. And for
each specialist, there is an assistant or apprentice. During the school week they are often in uniforms; more casual wear
is common on the weekends. There is no doubt the school is secure and free from vandalism and these men seem to take great
pride in their responsibility and connection to the school.