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If you can't trust a handshake, try namaste

Prince William and Kate Middleton were in India earlier this week on a visit. They shook hands with Prime Minister Narendra Modi, and the media encircled in red the finger prints of the iron handshake left on the back of Prince William's palm though his face showed no visible signs of pain.
The handshake is an incomprehensible Western custom in which utter strangers at the very first meeting grab at each other's right hand and give it a vigorous shake up and down. Hands were shaken in this manner as far back as fifth century BC in Greece.
The British and the Americans believe in a firm handshake. The Japanese don't. The Arab speaking countries of Middle East are gentle with each other's hands. In Russia, men shake hands, but women's hands are best kissed there. In Turkey, the kind of handshake that Modi specialises in will be considered rude.
As a custom, the handshake originated from mistrust. It was to test if the stranger had any weapon up his sleeve. The up and down movement of the hands would have sufficed to drop a knife or two into view. In short, it is a shake-down, the modern equivalent of frisking. It is war by other means. How puzzling that a gesture that set out to measure one's evil intentions evolved to represent its exact opposite: trust.
It wouldn't be so far in the terrorist-infested future that frisking upon meeting would be the new normal. From shaking hands to checking one's pockets or the inside lining of one's underwear is but a matter of few more bombs.
I can well imagine a related scene in the near future. The host introduces John to Harry. Hey guys, Harry, this is John; John, Harry. And both men then proceed to frisk each other.
We may think, no, this is too apocalyptic a vision, but considering the trust quotient between individuals and societies are at an all time low, there is likely where we are headed. Any airport is an excellent laboratory to measure the plummeting of the human trust in society at large.
I come from a family in which my late aunt, (my mother's sister) was married to a prince, K C K Rajah. He was in the line of Zamorins, the traditional royalty of Calicut, part of the Malabar Coast, and they had complete control over the area from 12th to 18th century. Later they continued to be kings under colonial invasion, but their powers were curbed. They are still kings, in lineage, but most of them live the average Indian life of bare necessities. And they shake hands only at the point of a gun.
When Vasco Da Gama, the man who pioneered globalisation by opening a sea route to India from Europe, anchored at Kappad beach near Calicut in 1498, the Zamorin, my uncle's several times great grand father, sent him a palanquin, so he didn't have to muddy his boots, but when the visitor reached his palace, the Zamorin did not shake hands, a tradition my uncle exemplified. He would either smile in acknowledgement or say namaste.
I mention Vasco da Gama because in all probability he and his fellow-shippies were responsible for introducing the hand-shaking civilisation of the West, with its attendant violence and exploitation, into India. It is a colonial gesture.
In all the engravings and paintings from that period though Vasco is seen as bowing to the king, hands folded in namaste. One would suppose he was instructed that was the thing to do. And a good thing too. Vasco had travelled across the sea round Africa, connecting Atlantic to the Indian Ocean; he had started out in July 1497, and reached Calicut in May 1498. Who knew what viruses he carried on his skin, what bacteria he had collected in those strange winds, what fevers he carried in his long unwashed hands? Indeed, when was his last bath?
The virtues of namaste are many. It is a gesture that does not take the liberty of intruding into your body space. It shows respect and trust. It is aesthetically more pleasing. It is healthier than a handshake, and of course it leaves no physical traces on the body, say, the (in)delible red marks Modi left on Prince William's hands. It is a gesture that acknowledges each other - nama means to bow, te is you; I bow to the divine in you-but as is the Indian understanding of reality, it presumes no physicality. We bow in acknowledgement of our transience, and go past each other into eternity; you carry no traces of mine on you.
Prince William and his wife are safely away in the gentle country of Bhutan. Where everybody bows deeply to each other. It is also one of the happiest countries in the world. Thought I cannot say namaste is directly connected to a state of joy, I would think a world where greetings are less physical represents relatively a less aggressive one. On that note, we part. namaste.
CP Surendran is a former editor-in-chief of DNA newspaper, a novelist and poet