Gopidas

Every time our group enters the Gateway Hotel in Kochi, we are met with a big smile, a polite greeting, and an enthusiastic handshake. After we pass through the metal detector, the same hand opens the door for us to enter.

            Gopidas Vikay, the tall, brown-skinned doorman, is the source of these kind gestures. He always makes us feel welcome and even valuable as guests, a skill he has surely refined through his fifteen years of hotel security experience. His thousands of days of practice could easily wear on his enthusiasm, but he brings such genuine energy to our interactions that I always feel he truly enjoys them.

            Gopidas was born in the Malappuram district of Kerala to two government employees. His mother in Education and his father worked with the irrigation department. Under their guidance, he completed his schooling through the twelfth standard, which is equivalent about to a high school diploma in America.

            When I ask him about other jobs he has held, he pauses for a second to adjust the cap that matches the full-length charcoal coat with maroon accents he wears to work every day. Tiny rivulets of sweat wander down his face to collect in the full mustache that tops his ready grin. I wonder if the perspiration stems from the heat of the mid-November afternoon or the strain of communicating in his rough English. I feel sweat collecting on my own back, for a combination of these reasons.

            “I practice martial arts for two and a half years,” he announces eventually. I ask if he did the traditional Kerala arts, but it turns out he did taekwondo. “From Korea,” he clarifies. He says he became interested for self-defense reasons, and won the silver medal for the state of Kerala in 1994. He doesn’t practice much anymore, mostly because he works so much. I naturally wonder if he ever uses his skills on the job, and he says he hasn’t been in a fight for years. When he first joined the hotel in 1998, a drunk man started harassing guests at a private dinner function, so Gopidas had to punch him a few times, but that was all. Confrontations are uncommon now. Outside of work, he likes going to the cinemas for fighting films. “They are very exciting,” he says, “and also very realistic.”

            I ask him about travel, and he says he once spent six months working hotel security in Quetar, but then returned to Kerala. He has visited many parts of India, like Goa, Bombay, and Karnataka, but he never wants to live anywhere else. “It’s God’s country,” he explains, gesturing vaguely into the air with one hand while smiling broadly. 

Besides that, he has a wife here in Kochi, who just twenty days ago gave birth to a baby girl. The excitement has spread to his coworkers, as evidenced by the nearby guard who pipes up top share the big news when I ask about his family.

Gopidas, like many Indians we meet, seems to take a friendly interest in foreigners. As I turn to leave from our interview, he asks for my name and shakes my hand. Shortly afterwards he tells our professor about the conversation we had. He walks into the hotel bar that night and waves when he sees me there. As we leave the next morning, he catches my eye to get another handshake and wish me safe travels. I get the sense that the attention I paid him was somewhat unusual. Most guests at the hotel are older North Indians or older foreigners, and seem a bit more interested in a private vacation. Our students group definitely tries to reach out to the people we meet, and it is fun to see them respond so warmly.