When my husband, Joel, said he wanted to go to India for a month and be a volunteer doctor at the Christian Medical College & Hospital, Vellore, my first thought was FOOD!  I have loved Indian food since high school when my friend Bev Chell included me at family feasts of chicken curry, rice and chutney.  Bev's parents, who had been missionaries in India for several years, always recommended that we devour this spicy fare with our hands.  They swore this was the custom in India.  After high school, Indian food was very hard to come by.  And I never found a restaurant that encouraged eating it with one's hands.  Indian restaurants are non-existent in our hometown of Grand Junction, Colorado, so I was excited by the prospect of enjoying finger-licking, fabulous Indian feasts in Vellore.

My second thought was kick-back time.  I figured there would be little use for a volunteer employment-law attorney from Colorado in India, and I would have no choice but to be totally worthless while Joel was busy helping save lives at CMC's hospital.  I gathered up more novels than my suitcase could hold, and watercolor paints to rekindle the artistic part of my brain that had died in law school.  The only productive activity I planned for our stay was to write April-Christmas letters to friends who hadn't heard from us for the past two Christmases.

We arrived in Vellore on March 30, 2001, shaky-kneed after our death-defying, three-hour taxi ride from Chennai (Indian drivers use horns as if they were brakes).  Our first night eating Tandoori chicken, curry and rice, and naan at the Roof Top restaurant of Darling Residency confirmed that my youthful admiration of Indian food was not misplaced.  We were to enjoy many wonderful meals there during our month.   And, best of all, eating with the right hand was more proper than using a fork.  My food expectations were fully realized.

But my plan to just kick back and forget employment law in India was sabotaged by my very own husband.  Joel, fearful that I would get bored if I didn't work and would talk him to death in the evenings, secretly sent my resume to the Director of CMC before we left the States, and told her I was looking for volunteer work also.  The Director shared my resume with CMC's Personnel Manager, Mr. Mathuranayagam (See photo right).  He, like Joel, felt that an idle lawyer is trouble, and eagerly informed me our first Monday in Vellore that he had projects for me to do.  He wasn't kidding!  The Staff  Rules for CMC's 5,000 employees had been adopted 26 years ago and had never been revised.  P.M. (as Mr. Mathuranayagam let me call him after I repeatedly slaughtered the pronunciation of his real name) suggested that I help him bring the Staff Rules up to date.  I cautioned him that I didn't know anything about Indian labor law.  He responded by handing me a thick volume containing the Industrial Disputes Act and other key Indian labor laws.  He also introduced me to Eunice and Anu , two young women lawyers in his department who would keep me legal.

The next few weeks working with P.M., Eunice and Anu were perhaps the most fun and rewarding weeks I have ever had as a lawyer.  At night I would read labor law; during the mornings, I would craft new policies at P.M.'s computer.  In the afternoons the three of us would meet and hash over my suggestions while sipping the best tea (thick with milk and sugar) known to man.  We laughed a lot, sharing cultural differences relating to personnel laws and life in general.  My three new friends found some of my policy suggestions hilarious, like suggesting that the policy on sexual harassment apply equally to men and women.  They simply could not imagine a woman ever sexually harassing a man.  When I told them that in the U.S. men sometimes bring claims of sex harassment against women and even against other men, they roared with good-natured disbelief.

Marriage and family customs were the frequent lunch-time discussion for us girls.  Eunice and Anu asked me at one lunch whether my marriage was a "love marriage" or an "arranged marriage."  They were shocked to learn that Joel and I had a "love marriage" that had survived exceedingly well for 35 years.  Most Indians, they explained, have "arranged marriages," where parents and family select the spouse.  When I expressed my opinion that marriage has to be based on love, they pointed out that the divorce rate in India is only a fraction of what it is in the U.S.  We never fully settled the love marriage vs. arranged marriage debate, but enjoyed many exotic (to me) dishes while comparing the pros and cons of each.

We finished the Staff Rules on my last Saturday in Vellore and there were high-fives all around the room.  P.M. invited me and Joel to his home on Sunday for a true home-cooked Indian feast to celebrate our successful month.  I've never felt more appreciated.  India and the people we met at CMC will remain dear to us always.  Saying goodbye was tough.  But we will be back.

Betty Bechtel