Dogs don't have to come from Slums

Slumdog Millionaire paints India in poor light. That’s why Indians are still not sure of their feelings for the film. If it wins the Oscars should they rejoice that an ‘Indian’ film has made it to the academy awards? Or should they be ashamed of how a Mumbai slum is appalling enough to appeal to the global audience.
In my opinion, there is really not too much of reason for Indians to be ashamed of. We are infact great people of a great nation. And how do I know that? Simply by stepping into London’s National Rail carriage 8:30 in the morning.

People in India may not appreciate this, so I must tell you a bit about British trains. Normally trains run on diesel or electricity. But British trains run on diesel+electricity+old-fashioned politeness! It’s a gentleman’s carriage with gentlemen sitting, who expect every not so gentlemanly person to behave as gently as possible. People sit quietly on the seats-one person per seat, and read books! Hardly as in Mumbai where people will argue eloquently if a seat for three is not being utilised to accommodate four butts. Even when people have to stand in these trains, there is an aristocratic discipline with which they carry themselves. I have spent hours in Indian trains where I have had to tolerate a shoe trampling my foot or a pugnacious armpit hovering around my nose, or trying to not feel envious of the luggage who is frankly more cosily accommodated than me. Out here, its paradise. No sweat. No shove. No loud talking. Only polite whispering. Gracious smiles. Good perfume.

So why should we be proud of our trains, or of ourselves?

Now this is the depiction of an English train when there had been a train at the station two minutes before and a train after it will glide into the station, two minutes later. What happens when this impeccable infrastructure breaks down and suddenly you find no train for half an hour thanks to excess snow; and the platform looks just as populated as a busy Indian platform on a general day.

SLUMDOG HAVOC!

All of a sudden people find themselves quite in the cross-fire between 18th century courtesy and the 21st century practicality of trying to get to work on time. The train slowly and ominously entered my platform today, and it was jam-packed. Lots of people on the train and lots of people on the platform and one humungous cocktail of humanity ensuing when the train stops; that's life as usual for a Mumbai commuter, but life out of the blue for the British gentleman!

Now in Mumbai, before a platform comes, the people in the train who are bound for the next stop collude and the entire gangway reshuffles to get divided in two rough halves, the ones to get off, crowding around the door. In London, people do not rely on this kind of team effort. Here people stay where they are, and after the train has stopped politely ask to be excused! So the train halts. The doors open. And the scene freezes. Then you hear a cacophony of ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘I have to get off’ being heard from inside the train. About roughly two minutes later, the inmates force themselves out as if escaping from a burning apartment.

But that’s just the beginning. The real fun is when you try to get in.
In Mumbai trains, there is a kind of universal understanding that regardless of how crowded the train is; as long as there is a willing person on the platform, there will be a few square centimetres of place reserved for him in the train. That kind of universality evidently does not appeal to the Brits. So after a handful lucky have got in and a third lady trying to elbow her way in…….the system of politeness and courtesy goes for a toss!

“Can’t you understand, the train is too crowded”, sermonised a girl comfortably inside, to a resolute lady who was trying to desperately accommodate her bulky bag and body inside the train at one go. “F***k off, Why don’t you get off the train then.”, came the reply. “What, how dare you....YOU f***k off, who the f*****g hell do you think you are!” came the counter attack!

Frankly I was disgusted. While Indians try to find a solution by shoving in, ‘pole dancing’ on the train, occupying every inch of available space; all these ‘foreigners’ do is to abuse through their nostrils! As if the entire problem of space and time allocation would be solved by a heated exchange of f***k’s. Which made me think, that given the size of our population, we do pretty well. Under pressure, we are a fantastic organised force. We can do a much better job of getting into trains, getting out of trains, accommodating people into trains; and similarly efficient in other situations; that these Westerners with all their refinement and seemingly gentlemanly superiority are helpless like babies! All those who sneered at India; its poverty and apathy in the film of Slumdog Millionaire should reconsider - if their country was in a similar situation-demographically, economically, socially- they would have behaved like irresponsible brats.

Half an hour on the train, listening to the f***ks, excuse me’s, stop pushing you b*****, can’t you see, there is no place,EXCUSE ME PLEASE, ’ I suddenly realised a very important thing.

Something that I had involuntarily forgotten while watching Slumdog Millionaire.

That it's a matter of pride to be an Indian!