Some time back, I was standing at the gate of our housing society, waiting for my daughter’s school bus to arrive. A neighbour, the mother of one of my daughter’s classmates, began complaining about the poor standard (according to her) of teaching in the school, which is Christian mission-run. Her contention was that teachers who aren’t qualified, or don’t really excel, are allowed to stay on in the school simply because they’re Christian. “You see them in the school photos,” she said. “All converts, you can see by their faces.”

I pointed out gently that most Christians in India (or actually, across the world) have been converted, at some time or the other, either in their own lifetimes or through their ancestors.

“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” she said. “I mean people who have been given incentives by missionaries to convert. I have lived in South India, I have seen a lot of this.” She must have seen the look on my face, and she hurried to clarify. “You can tell they’re converts, because of their mixed names.”

“I have a mixed name,” I said. Madhulika Liddle.

And then, I think, the penny dropped. So far, she had forgotten, perhaps, that I am Christian.

She blustered. “Of course, of course. But not you. I mean people who look perfectly normal but are Christian.”

“Normal? So Christians are not normal?”

By which time the school bus had arrived and I think both of us were relieved to have an end to what had become an awkward conversation.