It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an anthropologist new in the field must be in want of interlocutors. However little known the feelings or views of such interlocutors may be on her first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the mind of the anthropologist, that she considers the subsequent drought of interlocutors decidedly unacceptable.
Here I am, starting week two in the field; I have set up lessons with the Maulvi at the shrine so I may be able to interact with him a few days every week; I've been given permission to interview folks who run shrine-related institutions and I speak to the Head Honcho here occasionally. But all these interactions are so formal. So I sit in my house here and wait. Wait for some invitation to a soiree with cucumber-sandwiches and lemonade...well, with kababs and Rooh Afza. I sit in my parlour reading the Urdu newspaper or embroidering whatnots, hoping that the phone will ring and I will be invited to tea. The youth of my fieldwork is in wane...will my interlocutors never ask me to call upon them?
2 comments:
Just don't catch your death traipsing lovelornly among the moors for Gulbarga.
Perhaps Darcy Uncle will come calling soon. Or are you hoping for Heathcoate Ji?
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