Dirty Indians

Ever came across a handful of men staring at you in great resentment?

I did in the market-place today. Their coal black eyes resembled ambers. Their mannerism looked serious as if to say -- Dude, I mean no-nonsense! Worst of all, piercing arrows of all those pairs of eyes were directed at me.

ADRENALIN RUSH happened. FIGHT or FLIGHT, my mind asked, simultaneously wondering what had I done to invoke their wrath? TRUCE -- my higher self intervened. [I am high on Yoga and meditation these days.]

So, I strutted towards, oh don't-ask-where -- electricity bill collection centre. Suddenly, it dawned upon me that the men I have been referring to were not an angry mob, they were an angry queue. REALISATION No. 2: The queue was lined-up for paying up electricity bills. (This is what months of making online reservations and paying OL bills does to your sense of reality.) I had completely discounted the idea that if I were to continue enjoying my digital lifestyle, I'll have to stand at the rear end of this human chain. [In true saggi spirit I was paying my bills in the last hour of the last day of the given deadline. Going by the length of queue, though, it seems my status as a lazybum is under severe threat.]

Anyway, like any other law-abiding citizen I took my position at the tail-end. Now, that men's gaze had shifted from me and I had enough time to kill, I decided to wear my psychoanalyst shoes. The topic of analysis being -- why those men looked angry? Few reasons I worked out, go like this:
1. Their wives might have nagged them into this.
2. They might have pesky bosses, back there to report to
3. They might have *taboo -bad-sex-life- taboo*
OR
4. May be meditation has made me a calmer being. I have evolved while rest of my species has been entangled in the mess of "maya".

The last one was a chewy thought but before I could savour it, I heard angry shouts. I turned just-in-time to notice that a lady was walking past us, clearly ignoring others' protests to stand in the queue.

She seemed, to me, a great follower of Alexander. Veni, Vidi, Vici . . .she came, she paid, she left. Actually she could not execute the last leg of her invasion plan as she was mobbed. Amongst angry shouts, I heard a familiar voice - - MINE. What was I saying-- " This is what you gonna teach your kids, SCHMUCK WOMAN!!!" (Here goes my higher self for a toss.)

So this is it. The resentful eyes of those men, they were not directed at me. They were trying to pre-empt this phenomena UNIQUE to and PATENTED by Indians. That of breaking and bending all rules. That of showing middle finger to law and order. I mean, that lady looked well literarte (apparently not educated though) and well-to-do. While senior citizens, daily-wagers and even lazy ME wait for our respective turns, this woman has to be in time for her scheduled appointment with the PM. HUH!!

This is why resentment grows and stays in local trains. Road rage becomes more of a style statetment. This is why most of the Indians walk on the streets with a big frown on their foreheads. (I swear, I stood on an overbridge once, to check out how many smiling faces I could encounter. Result = ZERO!!)

This anger, probably stems from the realisation that we as a country have no civic sense, no collective conscience. We are dirty opportunists. I bet, that lady would be the first to point fingers if a political thug were to outshine her in another similar queue (Since queues are such a universal phenomena in India.)

Few months back, a local Reuters correspondent (a British guy) had written a particulary unflattering article about "habits of Indians". I was the first one to call him and give it to him left, right, centre . . .top, bottom -- whatever. "Magi, you don't understand. You are not complete India. You are a behavioural minority", he had said.

I so wish, he was wrong. How I wish, some day he would be wrong about it.