The doctor and the principal
In the small South Indian town in which I grew up, my father was a doctor at the local mission hospital and my mother was the principal of the only English medium school. When my parents visited someone's house together, the terrified children couldn't get to their hiding places fast enough. In those days the doctor was a convenient bogeyman armed with a large needle. And everyone knows about school principals. On the rare occasions on which we went to the movies, the manager would fold his hands together and refuse payment. He would only accept, very reluctantly, when my dad insisted. We knew we would pay, he knew we would pay - the ritual refusal was meant as a show of respect. (In fact, in the India in which I grew up, the offering and giving and taking of money was a delicate undertaking. If someone did you a favor, it was considered rude to offer them money. It was not only doubting that person's generosity, it was also suggesting that something as priceless as hel...