Something that keeps popping up in my head each time I read or hear of racism in a far-away land of the west is how we miss all these signs in Asia, India inclusive. It almost seems a misconception that perhaps staying put on one’s own soil, so to speak, validates your comfortable presence here at all. On the face of it, I am wholeheartedly given to the belief that ‘oh, there’s nothing like being in your own country, that IS where you belong’. Yet, there are far too many times when it all seems a bit blurry. And I’m sure you would agree that it isn’t a reassuring feeling at all. Let me elaborate.

So sometime in the midst of summer of 2008, we were at the beach town of Bentota in Sri Lanka - and Bentota Beach Resort at first sight appeared too good to be true. At the sprawling restaurant of which when we arrived for dinner the same evening, we were escorted to a pre-decided table that bore our room numbers on little placards. Umm, whatever happened to freedom of choice (especially as a paying guest)? I looked back and forth from our assigned table which happened to be right by the buffet spread - to the naturally more appealing ones that were lined by the tall glass windows. Was it just a coincidence that those were all taken up by fellow white travellers? Ok, so it was dark outside and it didn’t matter particularly where we were seated. But it did matter when the next morning - at breakfast time - we were grandly escorted to the very same table again. We noticed once more, that the tables by the windows were occupied only by white guests.

“Uhh, see I would like have a table next to the window, please,” I said to the restaurant manager. How could we not have a view of the beach and glistening waters beyond?

“Sorry, but this is the table reserved for your room,” came the pat reply him.

“Well, I’m sure you have done that with good intention, but this isn’t an examination hall where I need to be seated at the same table everyday. So can I please choose which table suits me best?” I said evenly.

“But those are all reserved,” he replied, unapologetically.

“Well, I see a number of the tables by the window free at the moment, so we would most definitely like to be seated at one of them,” I said more firmly.

“Well, the ones that are not reserved, will have to be accessorized which will take twenty minutes at least,” was the rude reply. Why in heaven’s name would it take 20 minutes to set a table?

The tit-tat went on for a few minutes, after which, grudgingly, almost painfully, a table was arranged by the window for us. Unfortunately, this is just one of the instances of such behaviour at this particular resort.

Somehow, this incident was no competitor to what happened in Jodhpur more recently. We had just arrived at Singhvi Haveli, where we were to stay for the last two days of the year. It was in the heart of the old city, bang next to the Mehrangarh Fort much to our glee. As I made myself comfortable with a cup of tea on the lovely terrace with the view of the great blue city below, my friend came running out of her room that was just above ours. Evidently, she had been marooned for some time on one side of her otherwise spacious room, suitcases on bed, because her bathroom was flooding onto the room. Frazzled, she marched up to the owner of the haveli, and these are bits of the conversation she had with him:

“What is wrong with the bathroom construction that the water is spilling onto the room floor? Can you get this fixed ASAP?” she complained.

“You must have used the bucket to bathe instead of the shower, as our foreign guests usually do,” said the owner knowingly.

“Ugh, what? How the hell should that matter? Why are we even talking about how I want to/did use the bathroom to bathe? That is none of your business,” she said furiously.

“Oh, see that’s why we don’t encourage Indians here. We cater to foreigners,” said the owner.

“Firstly, when we made our advance booking, you never mentioned any such preference. Secondly, I happen to be as much a guest at your hotel as any other paying foreign being,” she said.

“This isn’t a five-star hotel, ma’am. Next, you’ll ask us for a TV. See, we don’t cater to such demands.”

“Whoever asked for a TV? You know perfectly well asking for a functional bathroom while paying more that Rs 1500 for a room is a clearly not unreasonable. I cannot believe you are can behave this way with someone from your own country,” said my friend.

“Ma’am please don’t make a scene. There are other guests around. We’ll try to get your bathroom fixed but in the meanwhile you are welcome to look for another place,” said the owner flatly, knowing fully well being peak season, it would be impossible to find something halfway-decent.

A few days later, I was relating this incident to my father, with whom I had travelled to Jodhpur a decade ago. “Oh,” he said to me, not sounding surprised, “You probably don’t remember, but another haveli we stayed at when we were there told me something very similar when I had complained about something,” he related. “We can do without your recommendation, sir,” - they said to my father - “you see we are looking for foreign guests in any case.”