I am an Indian, a proud one. The beaming pride of being one shines on you the moment you step out of the country.
As I type this, I am traveling enroute Colombo from Kandy in Sri Lanka, sitting in the crisp chills from the air conditioner made in China, fitted in a Japanese car while the scorching sun sets the outers ablaze in its fury.
Truly, the world would cease to exist if country to country coordination and association takes a road bump or a bottleneck. If countries can, why people can’t?
As a tourist whose country’s border is just 32 kms from this country, I am often appalled by how we see each other. Being the face of a country, you expect people to reciprocate the compassion in brotherhood while the same ceases the moment I desist flipping out my wallet.
Being an Indian is hard outside India as much as it is in India. For people, any tourist is just a walking stack of notes, easy enough to manipulate.
The moment I turned down a tour guide, cold eyes and contempt follow me down the halls. The moment I don’t tip, smiles beguile.
The moment I step into a shop, price tags become least selling prices.
The moment I don’t buy, I get cursed in their language.
A taunt is a taunt in any language.
A deceitful look is the same in all places.
You, being the face of the country, show me an attitude belittling your already small island nation, guess what, I do care. I am not just a wary tourist pumping in my hard earned money to boost your economy, I could probably be a loggerhead for your country’s economic development. If I can stop one person from coming to your country, if I can stop one dollar from being spent, I am definitely one to watch out for.
Doesn’t this malady happen in India by an Indian to an Indian in an all Indian context?
Well, yeah. It does.
And that is the sad state of affairs. Our affairs.