Its such a refreshing feeling while coming down the elevator from the lonesome niche of 8th floor to the real world with real people. I sometimes get company of a smiling old Kiwi man or a cherubic African girl in the elevator. The face meets and a random ‘hi how are you‘ pops out of the mouth. Bright ‘good mornings‘ are exchanged. I reach office and I prefer taking stairs to reach my 2nd level office instead of the crowded elevator. (Elevators make me dizzy- I am claustrophobic). I generally meet few Indians also near the stair well. No smiles are exchanged- no hellos are said. An awkward feeling sweeps the whole situation waiting to surpass as quick as possible. Indians don’t pass smile when I smile back.
Its not only my office tale. It happens when we are busy shopping groceries in the supermarkets. If we see an Indian they look the saddest. They are always cocconed and have no awareness whatsoever of their native fellow around them. Even if they talk they talk(never in mother tongue but their strange english) with such sudden emergency as if they are being taxed for every word being spoken. Quick ‘bye byes‘ are said on rare occasions. Even if the talks are taken up a higher level than mere ‘hi hellos‘ they proceed to the fact of how long they have been here and their melodramatic struggling saga which bores me to death. They take a certain pride in being living in a foreign land for decades and yet ironically cribbing about the country and its blood sucking taxing system. My head pops out a quetion with a bang -’if you’re so sad and tensed why not leave and go back?‘
Indians will never help Indians. They’re bhai bhais(brother brother) in glossy Karan Johar’s picturesque America drama where the hero (read irritating Shahrukh Khan) breaks out a punjabi number (read Pretty woman in Kal Ho Na Ho) in the street and every Indian starts dancing.
I have many helpful Indian friends too but exceptions are everywhere. I am talking about the general mindset of Indian community here.