latelenovela Chapter 173: Indian Culture
Chapter 173: Indian Culture
"Young man," the priest said in clear, polite English, his calm voice carrying enough authority to quiet much of the surrounding crowd, "do not forget that you have entered someone else’s place of worship. There is a phrase you may already know — ’When in Rome, do as the Romans do.’ If you cannot respect the customs of this place, then it would be better to leave peacefully rather than create conflict inside a sacred space."
The foreigner opened his mouth to argue, but the priest gently continued before he could interrupt.
"In front of God, everyone stands equal. The Almighty does not discriminate between those who seek His blessings. Then who are we to decide the correct way His blessings should be received?"
The foreigner scoffed loudly.
"How is that even related? If I see something backward, calling it out doesn’t make me disrespectful toward your religion."
The priest merely smiled.
"You ask how it is related?" he repeated patiently. "Then let me explain why many Indians prefer eating with their hands."
He slowly raised his right hand.
"You see this hand? Once properly washed, it is as clean as any spoon. But this hand belongs only to me. It touches only my food."
Then he pointed lightly toward the only steel serving spoon near the prasad distribution.
" Spoons like that, however convenient, serves many mouths throughout the day. It passes from one person to another repeatedly. So tell me, young man..." his smile deepened faintly, "which is truly inferior? The hand God gave me naturally which belonged only to me, or the tool mankind created merely for convenience?"
For a brief moment, silence spread through the gathering.
Then a loud cheer erupted from the crowd.
"Well said, Panditji!"
One middle-aged man raised his plate proudly.
"We don’t eat from someone else’s leftovers! Our own hands are enough for us!"
Another man shook his head at the foreigner.
"These people lecture us about civilization while forgetting basic manners themselves. When you enter someone else’s home, you respect their customs first."
A teenage boy who just hit puberty suddenly yelled from the back, "Don’t mess with India! Fuck off!"
Several older devotees immediately smacked the back of his head.
"Shut up! Watch your language inside the temple!"
The tension in the atmosphere broke slightly as nervous laughter spread through the crowd.
But the foreigner’s face had already turned red with anger.
"What kind of logic is that?" he snapped. "Even if you wash your hands, they’re still dirtier throughout the day than clean utensils. And the way it looks is disgusting. There are basic standards of manners you can’t justify through religious philosophy."
This time, an older woman from the crowd stepped forward aggressively before Rohit could intervene.
"And what about the ’burgurs’ and ’pijja’, you people eat with your bare hands like monkeys?" she shot back instantly. "At that time it doesn’t feel disgusting?"
The surrounding women immediately nodded in fierce agreement.
"We at least wash our hands properly before eating," the woman continued proudly. "You people just wipe things with tissue paper and pretend that’s hygiene."
Then she suddenly smacked the head of her grandson who was secretly recording the argument.
"And you!" she scolded. "Don’t you dare copy these foreign habits later and waste money on their junk food!"
The grandson rubbed his head helplessly while nearby people chuckled.
Several people in the crowd nodded fiercely in agreement.
Rohit’s mind nearly short-circuited at how fast the argument had derailed. Despite himself, he had to fight back a laugh. The responses were crude, completely unfiltered, and yet strangely effective.
Even the foreigner looked momentarily stunned by the sheer shamelessness of the counterattack.
Before the situation could spiral further, Rohit stepped forward and raised his hand firmly.
"Enough."
The crowd gradually quieted again.
"The priest has already answered your curiosity well enough," Rohit said calmly while looking directly at foreigner . "I think it’s best if you delete the videos and let the matter end here peacefully. Nobody wants unnecessary trouble."
The foreigner guy still looked unwilling to back down.
But then his eyes suddenly brightened with relief as he spotted someone approaching through the crowd.
"There he is!" he shouted. "Satish! Where the hell were you?"
Two men hurried toward the gathering.
One appeared to be in his mid-thirties, dressed in flashy clothes with a thick gold chain hanging around his neck. The second man, likely in his fifties, wore spectacles and a neatly pressed kurta while carrying an air of local authority.
The older man’s expression immediately shifted the moment he recognized the temple priest.
Meanwhile, the man with the gold chain aggressively stepped forward.
"Boss Jeffrey, don’t worry!" he declared loudly. "Satish guide is here now. I’ve also brought Pradhan Ji — the head of the temple committee."
He glared arrogantly at Rohit and Namrata.
"Whoever dared harass my clients will answer to me."
Pradhan Ji adjusted his spectacles calmly.
"Can someone explain the situation properly?" he asked.
Jeffrey pointed dramatically toward Rohit and Namrata.
"These two created a scene because we were filming the food distribution! We came here respectfully as guests, and they publicly harassed us in front of everyone."
The crowd instantly burst into angry protests.
"He’s lying!"
"They insulted our culture first!"
"They called us primitive!"
Rohit remained completely silent.
He simply slipped both hands into his pockets and watched Pradhan Ji quietly with an unreadable expression.
Pradhan Ji barely even paused to think.
He turned toward the nearby security guards and spoke coldly.
"Remove these locals immediately and escort our foreign guests safely to my office."
The crowd erupted furiously.
"What?!"
"Shameless!"
"They insulted us first!"
Before the guards could move, however, a sharp female voice cut through the noise like a blade.
"Pradhan Ji..."
The entire crowd instinctively turned.
Riya walked forward confidently, accompanied by Dhananjay and several temple officials.
Her expression was calm.
Too calm.
"Will you throw me out as well?" she asked softly.
Pradhan Ji’s face lost all color instantly.
"R-Riya Madam..."
Riya stepped closer slowly.
"You’re throwing my brother out of the temple?" she asked in an icy voice. "Interesting. So I assume my turn comes next?"
Artwork.
A suffocating silence fell.
Satish turned pale.
"I... I didn’t know he belonged to the donor family," he whispered nervously.
Pradhan Ji immediately spun toward him with fury.
"What nonsense have you dragged me into?!"
Then, almost instantly, his entire demeanor changed.
He folded both hands respectfully toward Rohit.
"My apologies, young master. I wasn’t aware earlier."
He turned toward the guards and barked sharply,
"Escort these two troublemakers outside immediately."
Jeffrey stared in disbelief.
"What the hell is this?! I already paid your guide a huge amount!"
Satish hurriedly moved closer, sweating heavily now.
"Sir, please calm down. I’ll arrange another temple visit somewhere else without extra charges."
"The hell with your charges!" Jeffrey snapped furiously.
His wife quickly grabbed his arm.
"Jeffrey, stop it!" she hissed under her breath. "Can’t you see this is over already?"
Jeffrey looked ready to explode further.
But Rohit’s calm voice stopped everyone again.
"Wait."
The guards paused.
Rohit slowly walked toward Jeffrey.
"You still haven’t apologized," he said calmly. "And neither have you deleted the videos."
Jeffrey turned toward him with naked hatred.
"Screw you," he spat. "All of you."
His voice rose louder.
"You want to threaten me? Fine. I’ll post everything online and show people exactly how foreigners especially from Canada are treated here. Don’t forget — thousands of your people line up begging for visas and citizenship in countries like ours every year."
A few men in the crowd lunged forward angrily before being restrained.
But Rohit’s expression remained calm.
Almost amused.
"Then let’s do it properly," he replied coolly.
Jeffrey frowned.
Rohit gestured toward the crowd surrounding them.
"Keep your video. Upload it everywhere you want. But have a look over here."
Then he pointed toward the dozens of phones still recording.
"My people have also recorded everything from beginning to end."
Jeffrey’s face stiffened slightly.
Rohit stepped closer.
"When one and a half billion people start sharing your face online for insulting their culture inside a temple, let’s see what happens afterward. Who gets more clicks and whose narrative is accepted fast."
His tone remained calm.
"I wonder how your office would react. Or your neighbors. Or your own countrymen once they realize what kind of tourists are representing them abroad."
Jeffrey’s confidence visibly cracked for the first time.
Rohit lightly patted his shoulder.
"Even now, I’m giving you an easy exit. Delete the video. Apologize. And this matter ends here.. ’Peacefully.’"
Silence...
Jeffrey slowly looked around and gulped. He felt his throat dry.
The crowd had turned openly hostile now.
Even the guards looked irritated.
Bella finally whispered desperately,
"Jeffrey... please."
His jaw tightened.
Then, with visible humiliation burning across his face, he pulled out his phone, deleted the recordings, opened his gallery, and showed the screen.
A wave of cheers erupted around them.
"That’s right!"
"Good!"
"Showed him his place!"
Some younger men excitedly began talking about uploading their own recordings online instead.
But Rohit immediately raised his hand again.
The crowd slowly quieted.
"I request everyone here to delete their videos as well," he said clearly. "These people made a mistake, but publicly humiliating them further won’t improve our image either."
Several people looked surprised.
Rohit continued calmly,
"If we claim our culture teaches respect and forgiveness, then we should act accordingly too."
Another elderly devotee nodded.
"He’s right," she admitted. "The wife spoke politely from the beginning."
The elderly woman who had argued earlier joined in too.
"Our culture teaches forgiveness after repentance."
She immediately glared at her grandson again.
"Delete the video."
The boy sighed dramatically.
"Fine, Fine, doing.. done."
Gradually, people began deleting their recordings one by one.
The tension in the surroundings slowly dissolved.
The crowd dispersed again toward the prasad counters while conversations shifted back into ordinary temple chatter.
Bella folded her hands respectfully toward Rohit and the priest.
"We’re truly sorry," she said quietly.
Then, without giving Jeffrey another chance to argue, she quickly dragged him away while security escorted them toward the exit.
Even while leaving, Jeffrey still looked deeply humiliated.
Rohit watched them disappear before quietly chuckling to himself.
’Good thing Riya’s reputation got involved. Otherwise, you would’ve left far more broken than embarrassed, you arrogant prick.’
Only after they were gone did the tension finally ease.
Namrata suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Rohit’s arm with both hands, holding it tightly against her chest.
Her soft body pressed lightly against his side as she looked up at him, eyes still shining with unshed tears. The closeness was noticeable, yet not outright inappropriate for the setting.
"I’m sorry..." she whispered, voice trembling. "Because of me, you got dragged into this."
Rohit blinked in mild surprise. He didn’t dislike the warmth of her touch or the way her body leaned into him, but he was very aware of the dozens of lingering gazes from the devotees and staff members around them.
Namrata, however, seemed completely unbothered by the attention. If anything, she held his arm even tighter, her fingers gently squeezing.
"I was honestly scared when he started threatening us and calling people from the authorities," she admitted softly, her breath brushing against his shoulder. "I didn’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here."
Her voice dropped into something gentler, almost intimate.
"Thank you... for standing up for me again."
It was at that exact moment that Riya’s voice suddenly cut through the atmosphere.
"Ahem."
The sound made Namrata stiffen. She slowly loosened her grip.
"Rohit..." Riya said calmly.
Yet the tone directed toward him carried an unmistakable chill beneath its surface.
"I believe I deserve a little explanation here."
Despite the composed smile on her face, her folded arms and cold eyes made the atmosphere around her feel noticeably heavier. Only the faint pink on her cheeks betrayed the emotions hidden beneath her calm exterior.