Having a servant prostrate herself at my feet is not something I had ever imagined I would experience. It seemed so of another century. But this morning as I was leaving SinhaRaja’s home, the cook and her daughter came to the front room to bid me goodbye. The night before the daughter had made a superb meal for a dinner party. When I thanked them for their hospitality, the young woman knelt in front of me, bent over with her palms pressed together, and lowered face to the floor. She remained in that position for what seemed to me like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds.

To say that her gesture gave me pause is an understatement. In that moment, purely on instinct, I made the decision not to embarrass her by saying that she should not do that with me. Somehow I thought that to diminish her prostration by invalidating it in some way was much worse than simply honoring her and thanking her for her graciousness. My overwhelming response was that I didn’t want in any way to strip away her dignity.

In moments like these, you can’t help but have multiple thoughts running simultaneous through your head. As I was instantaneously deciding to just “go with it,” I was also feeling like I was in a movie. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a film where a Westerner is greeted in such a way. But somehow I have some sensory memory of this happening in a movie where the Westerner pulls the prostrate servant up and tells them that they should not do this. What I do know is that such an action is more about the Westerner than the servant. Deep down I knew that to do something like that would be even patronizing. As the same time, I understood that her gesture was a sign of respect and honor, and to negate her genuine expression was more humiliating for her than any discomfort I might have had.