Mumbai
There was a great op ed piece in the Wall Street Journal this week about
Mumbai, which used to be called Bombay. In a recent Reader’s Digest, Mumbai
was voted the rudest city, and New York the politest. The op ed piece says:
In the immoral words of Rudy Giuliani, when he was informed of the
verdict of etiquette experts in 2001 that his was the nation’s
politest city, “What were they smoking?”
The last paragraph of the op ed is one of the most eloquent writings supporting
my theory that there are mostly great people (and a handful of knuckleheads)
in every country. I’ve been to 20 so far, and haven’t seen any exceptions.
I will let Suketu Mehta say the rest…
If you are late for work in Mumbai and reach the station just as the
train is leaving the platform, don’t despair. You can run up to the
packed compartments and find many hands unfolding like petals to
pull you on board. And while you will probably have to hang on to
the door frame with your fingertips, you are still grateful for the
empathy of your fellow passengers, already packed tighter than
cattle, their shirts drenched with sweat in the badly ventilated
compartment. They know that your boss might yell at you or cut
your pay if you miss this train. And at the moment of contact, they
do not know if the hand reaching for theirs belongs to a Hindu or
a Muslim or a Christian or a Brahmin or an Untouchable. Come on
board, they say. We’ll adjust.
I have seen this phenomena myself on four trips to India. It is a country jam packed with friendly people.