The Great Indian War

India is at war. And you wouldn't know it even if you see it.

You see, it is a war of attitudes. Indian vs the rest of the developed world. Or so I think.

Every night, Airplanes from all major airports in Europe sneak into Indian cities. A couple of days back, I was on one of them. As always, the plane gracefully swayed and sashayed into Mumbai, giving me one of the best views of Marine drive, even though I was not sitting at the window seat this time.

The landing was bumpy and the taxiing was brief. We had stopped. And then began the great Indian thrust - to be the first to disembark. A huge force propelled us to rise as one and open the overhead babbage bins and we began pulling out our stuff. Um.

The parry: 'All passengers are please requested to be seated TILL WE ARRIVE AT THE GATE. WE HAVE NOT REACHED OUR GATE YET. SIR. SIR, PLEASE PUT THAT BACK . . .'

The air hostess was at her wits end as to how to handle it. In Europe, we were all such well behaved gents and ladies. We waited our turn, were polite even as we were asked who had packed our stuff. Yes, Ma'am. I packed my own bags. No. No one gave me anything. Yes, we had battery operated devices. Cell phones, cameras and laptops. Yes Ma'am. Thank you Ma'am. And we flashed our Colgate smiles with our twinkling teeth.

And the moment we landed in India, the desi air seeped through the pressurized cabin and we geared up for what worked in India. To compete in India, to be the best, we needed to take advantage of every opportunity. Even the opportunity to get off the plane first.

I guess, it shows in the way we talk, the way we act and the way we drive. If there is an opportunity to get an advantage by jumping a queue, I will take it please. Yes, I am Indian. A proud one at that.

Yes, in your world, I will politely wait my turn to be serviced, and wear that smile on my face. But that is not who I am. Very briefly does the mask slip in your world. But the landing terminal is one such place.

I make no judgements, just tell it like it is. You may think I am rude. I am not. I am just the water. I take the shape of the bowl I am placed in. And that is adaptability.

The signal is about to turn green. There are still ten seconds left. I switch on my engine. and I creep forward. . . when I am half way down the crossing, it does turn green. and . . .Yes! I have crossed first.

PS: Re, the thrust and parry, there is a saying that goes thus: He who deplanes first, waits longest for his baggage to arrive. Touché?

PPS: Oh Alright! I made it up.

Till next time