Polite or Not

I remember, a few years ago, there was a survey conducted by Readers Digest about how polite people around the world are. Several cities were studied for the politeness of their inhabitants, and Mumbai emerged as the rudest city. Does it sound shocking given the spirit of Mumbai that we all are proud about? We know that Mumbai, apparently, has an infinite capacity of individual and collective helpfulness as witnessed by us during the calamities that the city has been so often subjected to.

Coming back to the survey, although the parameters on which politeness was measured could be debatable, the outcome of the survey insinuates that perhaps, we need to think if we really are the rudest people in the world. A few quick questions.....while walking through an entrance, how many times have you encountered someone who holds the door for you? Don't we love to jump queues at a slightest potential opportunity? Don't you often feel annoyed when people inturrupt you when you are in the middle of an important discussion with your colleague? I suppose the answers to all these questions are not what we would like them to be, which according to the survey means that we are rude. Is it offensive to hear that we are rude? We don't need to resent this allegation because in my view, we often misconstrue politeness as helpfulness or goodwill. But after a closer look, I think we perceive them quite differently.

As I said before, Mumbai can really brag about the helpfullness of its people. This goodwill is not only limited to the tragic catastrophes like the monsoon deluges or terrorist attacks, but I witness it every single day in some form or other. There are innumerable everyday examples of people helping each other. This disposition to kindness is undoubtedly present, and such is the tenacious core of Mumbai that this compassion will prevail forever.

So what was Readers Digest talking about? How come we are the least polite people in the world? What is this politeness afterall? Come to think of it, Politeness is a very familiar concept in our culture, and it is looked down upon with an allergic reaction. This much hated concept is called 'formality'. When you thank a somewhat familiar person, it is very likely that you will hear - "its okay yaar, no formalities". We detest these 'formalities', dont we? Why? Because we think that being formal is being artificial. For us, formality is a falsified expression of gratitude or concern. And sure as hell, we hate falsehood, dont we? As per this definition of politeness, we are indeed rude, and perhaps we are proud to be like that !

Even if we take solace in knowing that we are fundamentally helpful and not falsely polite, in my view, politeness is important. This is because there comes an important connotation with being not polite, and that is; we are crass and socially ill-mannered people. That we are not refined in the way we conduct ourselves. Please do not misunderstand that I am defending the western essence of social manners, because after touring most of Europe and the US, I am aware that the west lags behind us by ages in the goodwill that I talked about earlier. In India, for example, if a friend could not bring lunch, we happily offer to share our meal with him. This will never happen in the west. They miss that gene code. Nothing against the west, but they have a completely different way of life. So, please do not even slightly believe that I am bent on advocating the western philosophy of good manners.

Getting back to my stand on politeness; I still persist that it is important to conduct ourselves with refinement. This is because with refinement comes gracefulness, and who doesnt like to be looked upto as elegant? Also, politeness is not inherently bad at all unless it is actually a lie. But only few people really fake politeness. Most polite people are truthful to their good manners. And I think we are intelligent enough to perceive bogus from genuine. We can easily sense the indifference lurking behind feigned good manners.

From my experiences, I can safely claim that politeness or formality, as we like to call it, can be used as the first brick to be laid for any type of relationship. Genuine politeness is invariably harmless and friendly. And I think we all like to talk to friendly people, don't we? I usually like to start an interaction with a formal note and then let the warmth gradually seep in.This usually makes a strong and fulfilling combination.

We all must have read sometime that being formal and polite has higher chances of landing a job than being noisy and unkempt. On a first date, most females prefer guys in a formal attire and having a well-mannered conduct. (I dont know what guys in general expect! But I would like my blind date to wear.......)

Besides everything else, being polite feels good. I can claim this from my personal experiences. The most challenging difficulty to be polite is the awkwardness that comes along with it. Most of us are not used to being like that. We were not groomed to be like that. Sometimes, I suspect that this clumsiness attached to politeness is the real cause of our detestation of formalities. Perhaps, we just protect ourselves from polite awkward situations by making lame excuses about the falsehood of their very purpose. We are just shy. When I tried hard to slowly get the habit of being polite underneath my skin, it turned out to be a pleasant experience than a bad one. It is nice to smile at a colleague in the morning and say 'hello'. It suggests a refined taste when you hold the door open and let someone else walk through first. Gentlemanly people naturally inspire respect and sophisticated appeal.

And for me, there is one more important reason to be smooth in your demeanour, and that is, to not annoy or intimidate people. I feel very annoyed when someone just cuts through an important conversation that I may be having with, for that matter, anyone. I don't like to be disturbed blatantly. I expect people to atleast say 'please' before they start talking in between. Also, it calls for some decorum when asking a colleague for help. Suppose you are working on an interesting challenge with your heart and mind in it, and people come straight to you and start narrating their issues vehemently, wouldnt it be nagging? And they don't even appreciate if you ask them to come later.

Next time, I will surely take care that my mobile phone does not lie on my desk ringing loudly and making people stand up to look over or turn their heads.

Post-nuptials Photography

I have a problem with just-married people, who try to impose their bliss on me. The most annoying way of doing that is making me see their post-wedding/honeymoon photos. I am glad about the fact that I know very few people having such dangerous inclination to share their post-nuptials photography. One such example is my cousin; she got recently married and has moved abroad with her dear hubby (bubby, babbu, sweety, jaan, shonu...etc. How I came to know about these aliases will appear later in the text)

I enjoyed being at her wedding; it was grand and was planned to inspire awe in the attendees. Money was generously spent. In short, it was like any other flamboyant NRI wedding. I knew right then that this was just the beginning of a ‘filmy’ episode, the photos of which I would be coerced to witness under some sense of family obligation. Now it has been a month since her wedding, and I got to know that she is doing just great. I had sent a few emails to ask about how she was doing, but received no replies. She almost vanished after her wedding only to emerge a few days ago when I got four emails from her. Perhaps the spell of honeymoon had started wearing off…I was wrong.

The photos were in staggering numbers. I must say the she and her hubby have a nice apartment with a beautiful view, and honestly that was all I was curious about. After a few interesting pictures, I saw what I was getting into. There were photos of her in different costumes trying to mimic the bridal look. Okay, we know how happy you are to be married!!! Then came some photos of mehendi; mehendi in Australia, okay it is very great of you to have found mehendi there and drawn it all by yourself; anyway, I wasn’t interested.

Next were her photos with exotic Indian outfits in every corner of the new apartment (except the washrooms), and in different poses, trying hard to look replete with ecstasy because….well…she was happily married now. I had reached my threshold of boredom but I had to view these photos because my parents wanted to see all of them, and I being the only computer literate, had to take them through all of the 387 photos.

Now came the photos of the walls having my cousin’s posters. Yes you read it right, posters! Like the ones you might have seen of Aish, Salman, Ferrari and other such entities, hung on the walls of people who are die-hard aficionados, usually in their teens. The posters had my cousins with plenty of histrionics, trying to pose with well-attempted facial expressions radiating bliss. Needless to mention about a complete spectrum of wardrobe. This idea of posters also hit the funny bone of my parents and they were slowly getting uninterested because clearly, humor wasn’t the intention of watching the photos.

After the posters, came smaller posters with postcard size photos of her alongside saccharine, mushy and overly sentimental messages of love. The occasion was valentine’s day!! So, we were at one level higher from the posters. I was visibly anxious now. I just didn’t want to know what she and hubby (the everlasting lovers) decided to click on the lover’s day. As we saw the photos, my father suddenly grew curious about what was being written on the messages. He is more unpredictable than me and has an impressive track record of aggravating my social awkwardness; be it at home or otherwise. The messages grew more intimate (this is when I came across the words mentioned in the first paragraph; babbu, manu, monu, shona etc). I was trying hard to attract my parent's attention to other attractive things on the wall like the paint, the bigger poster that we saw in the previous cluster of photos. Or I talked about what I saw hanging on the walls in European homes when I was abroad. My mom had already started objecting to these valentine posters and wanted me to skim over the photos fast so that she could view the next group. The words changed from love, promise, togetherness to hugs, cuddles, and cheeks. When words like kisses and touching started coming on the screen, my father gave up too. According to him, this was too personal to have been snapshotted and sent across to people. I looked at him and thought what kind of guy he would have been in his college days.

After this scant relief, we were ushered to the next higher level of husband-wife companionship. Photos of the bed!! In a very brief moment over the first photo, I saw my cousin sitting on the middle of the bed with her hubby having his arm around her shoulder, both wearing loose and comfortable clothing vaguely resembling sleepwear, and there was a glowing pink candle surrounded by rose petals on the side table. With utmost swiftness (I am proud about this quality of mine!) I switched off the modem and announced to my parents that the broadband connection had been lost.

Thereafter, I quickly excused myself to get something to eat and disappeared from the scene not forgetting to close the browser. They haven’t mentioned about the photos since, and I think they never will. However if they do, I think our internet connection will have to stay shut.