‘How do you say ‘hello’ in India / Hindi?’ I asked my friend as we were about to land in Bangalore.
‘Namaste.’
‘Namaste?’ I am not very reserved in my facial expressions, which elicited the following response from her.
‘Yes, it’s way over used in the west, but this is where it comes from.’
‘Wow.’
That was about 4 years ago. Since arriving in Nepal recently, I found out that despite the languages being completely different (and there are over 122 languages in Nepal) a lot of the Nepali language is derived from Sanskrit (one of the worlds’ oldest languages and the liturgical language of Hinduism, Buddhism & Jainism), many words are used the same way as in India.
I always thought that ‘Namaste’ was reserved for the flowing robed, spaced out yoga peeps with supercilious smiles. And for the uber spiritual new age types that look a little too long into your eyes with expressions reserved for those painfully private toilet moments, expressing their deep knowing of who you ‘really are’.
Since arriving in Nepal in June, I have come to like the word ‘Namaste’. Maybe it’s because everyone says it here.
I like that most people take the time, especially when I’ve initiated a namaste with sincerity (and no, not in the aforementioned ‘I’m more holier than thou’ type way), that they respond by pressing their hands together in prayer position across their chest, with head movement slightly bowed and say in return ‘Namaste’, with beaming features. I’ve also observed this when Nepalis meet new people, at work meetings and restaurants.
Of course my heart melts into a runny strawberry gelato when a small child says ‘Namaste’ as they press their hands together and look up at me with wide eyes and shy smiles.
It seems to be more like a proper ‘hello’, more than the brief acknowledgements of ‘hi’ when meeting groups of people in Europe or Australia. It’s a moment of time that appears to be filled with a bit more pause and consideration here. It’s a respectful term that is also used when saying ‘goodbye’.
As the standard greeting for everyone in Nepal, the literal components of ‘Namaste’ break down to ‘I bow / to you’, and in Hinduism it means ‘I bow to the divine in you.’
Understanding this meaning and everyday practise feels like there is less distance between people. And in Nepali culture, this is only enhanced with the broader concept and understanding of family.
‘Ohhhh, one month, that means you’ll be apart of our family.’
I glowed back at the receptionists broad, smiley enthusiasm to me
booking a room with them for a whole month in Thamel. It gave me a sense of reassurance and ease. Being apart of a family means that people generally care and look out for each other. As I travel alone, this is more than comforting.
Within the week, the young men working at the hotel started to call me ‘Didi’. Didi means older sister. I felt warm fuzzy feelings when I heard a few of them call me that for the first time. Even though they had been teaching me some Nepali words throughout the week, they didn’t know that I knew what ‘Didi’ meant.
My mission the next day was to find out the word for ‘younger brother’. I knew the word for older brother, but that didn’t work in this instance. That evening when I came back from my volunteer work and waited as usual for my large pot of black tea to be boiled, I talked with the affable young men about their days (which were always ‘good’) and about my day. Every day I looked forward to that moment, laughing, talking and learning from these super friendly boys.
‘Ho, Bai!’
They nodded their heads in appreciation, beaming broadly. ‘You do know.’
And that was it. It was ‘Bai’ and ‘Didi’ from then on.
Then it started happening in the restaurants I frequented. I was just ‘Didi’. I started to observe more how people interacted with each other on public transport, in workplaces and restaurants. It was all Bai or Dai (older brother), Didi or Bahini (younger sister). Then there was Uncle or Aunt and any much older woman was always called ‘Amma’ (mother).
Everyone is family.
I have a friend in Australia who regularly calls other men ‘brother’. I always thought ‘that’s a bit too personal isn’t it?’ And wouldn’t people want to smack you in the face if you say it? He says he has never had a bad reaction from men when he’s called ‘brother’. I always thought what he did was nice, but I would be too shy to do the same.
Now, in Nepal, I am doing it. Everyday. And I like it. Using these terms for people unrelated to me makes me feel less separation between me and them. It makes me feel more comfortable and more at home, wherever I travel in Nepal.
This, I believe, is one of Nepal’s greatest cultural strengths and something the rest of the world can learn from. Because we aren’t so different from each other, really. Lets use this example and start treating your friends, co-workers, that stranger on the bus, as your sister, brother, aunty or uncle.
Let me know how it works/doesn’t work for you. I’m interested. 🙂
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