Indian Food and Democracy

A few years ago, during the pre-surge nadir of America's war in Iraq, I missed a connecting flight to Goa, and was stuck spending the night in Delhi. It was one of the four trips I have taken to India in four consecutive rainy seasons. My friend Sam and I drank two bottles of beer and set out in a (auto)rickshaw for Shahjahanabad, the impoverished old city around the Red Mosque, on the lookout for a  recommended restaurant. Several stops for directions later, mostly soaked, we arrived at Karim's a grilled-meat restaurant located in a series of rooms oddly arranged around the interior courtyard of an ancient apartment building. Waiters dashed in and out of the rain trying to keep their trays of kebabs dry. We we ushered our way in past the crowds of men wearing long white sherwani (shirts), with their beards full but moustaches shaved. I'm told it was the style favored by the prophet.

Sam and I, oversized Americans, attracted more than a few glares as we ordered and ate our meal. Two young men at the table next to us were speaking a foreign language. They wore modern, smart clothes, and their tones, when they rose over the general din, sounded to me a bit like Hebrew. I listened more closely; it was Arabic. They must have noticed by eavesdropping, because they asked where I was from. "America," I told them, and asked where they were from.

"Iraq"

"Oh." I said. Looking for what to say next, I asked "What part?"

"Falluja."

It was not long after those killings. The man smiled at me, with only the faintest hint of menace. He didn't mean harm, but he knew what I was thinking, and enjoyed it a bit. Our conversation continued. Turns out he and his friend were university students, studying, of all things, Environmental Engineering. Again, searching for something to say, I enquired "Ah, was it hard to get a visa to study in Israel?"

"No, it was not hard. India is a true democracy." the man replied. "Unlike America".

That oh-so-barely-sinister grin again. The men finished their meal and left. Our meal was excellent -- Karim's is one of my favorite Indian restaurants.

Skip forward a year or two to another rainy night, last night, less than a week after Obama's election. I had just finished an Indian meal in Southall, London's Little Indian suburb. The restaurant, Madhu's is my other favorite Indian restaurant. It's halfway to Heathrow, and I like to stop by if I have a late night flight. I missed the train I was planning to take and called a local mini-cab company. A few minutes later a minivan picked me up.

"From America!" the driver said. He was a Somali immigrant, father of two, spending his off-hours from day job in data processing. Shaking his head in joy, he told me that "America is the most true democracy in the world. It's just amazing that an African could be a president of America. I don't think it could happen here, not in this country."