I walked into the shop in Jamison centre in MacQuarie, Canberra, where my son’s school uniforms are sold. I was accosted by a saleswoman in her mid thirties, grinning from ear to ear.
“Hi“ She said, “ How are you today?”
“I am good“, said I
“ What can I do you for you Honey? She asked
I swallowed hard, suddenly at a loss for words… Honey? The she turned around to another lady customer of African origin and said
” Just a moment sweetie, I’ll be with you in a while” .
I sighed. Must be her way of familiarity and friendliness with all customers, I thought. I told her that I had given my son’s uniform for embedding the school emblem. I couldn’t come earlier to pick it up.
She said :"Wow … That’s wonderful” still smiling
I failed to see what could be so wonderful about such an ordinary thing. “What is the name of your son?” She asked.
I told her Chathu’s real full name, which is quite a mouthful.
“ That’s fantastic“, she said.
I failed to see what was so fantastic about his name which ought not to have made any sense to her. Except that it rolls off the tongues of Caucasians much easier than mine does. She went in, picked up the packet and gave it to me.
“Is that the one, dear ?” She asked. I confirmed, yes.
“ That’s great. Have a wonderful day“, she said and I stumbled out in a daze into the afternoon sun. That is a strong dose of Australian attitude- peppy, lively, reaching out and putting others at ease...
Now, I have always been a modest guy for two important reasons. (a) I like modest guys and I like to help them out. I believe that there are many out there like me and by being at my modest best, I would like to be benefited by their kindness and
(b) I have much to be modest about.
Life in Delhi could make one seriously rethink that philosophy. Three years in the Capital of India and I am convinced that the meek shall be crushed to the earth; far less than inheriting any of it. Body language, good tailoring and attitude counts for much in Delhi. It is how you walk in to a place that will determine the treatment you get from anyone. This is true as much for the power corridors of South Block as it is for the flea market in Chandni Chowk. Australia looks like reinvesting me with a belief in the essential goodness of people.
There have been times when I was wandering around, puzzled, looking for a place, when someone would ask me whether I am alright. The Bus drivers smile and wish you as you get in. A brief chat about the weather follows to the regulars as they swipe the card. It is the same driver in our route and even passengers are more or less the same. There is no hurry as the driver waits for passengers to search for their card/ coins/cash. When we thank them as we go out, they might respond with a deep “No worries mate”. That’s Australian for "You are welcome" or "don’t mention it"…
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The greatest development of Australian life is that Chathu now is a responsible citizen. In Delhi we had a host of maids keeping us going round the clock and I suspect he used domestic help to get the socks off his feet as he came in from school. Now he opens the house, heats the chapattis, microwaves the curry, eats, washes the plates, helps to hang up the washing. I am impressed. He is chilled out about school. Says he is treated like an adult out there. That scares me. No homework, not much pressure…He won’t be fit for the Great Indian School rat race when he gets back. In any case I have serious doubts about him making it to the IITs and IIMs. You can see the pictures of him washing the plates and putting out the clothes to dry....
“Hi“ She said, “ How are you today?”
“I am good“, said I
“ What can I do you for you Honey? She asked
I swallowed hard, suddenly at a loss for words… Honey? The she turned around to another lady customer of African origin and said
” Just a moment sweetie, I’ll be with you in a while” .
I sighed. Must be her way of familiarity and friendliness with all customers, I thought. I told her that I had given my son’s uniform for embedding the school emblem. I couldn’t come earlier to pick it up.
She said :"Wow … That’s wonderful” still smiling
I failed to see what could be so wonderful about such an ordinary thing. “What is the name of your son?” She asked.
I told her Chathu’s real full name, which is quite a mouthful.
“ That’s fantastic“, she said.
I failed to see what was so fantastic about his name which ought not to have made any sense to her. Except that it rolls off the tongues of Caucasians much easier than mine does. She went in, picked up the packet and gave it to me.
“Is that the one, dear ?” She asked. I confirmed, yes.
“ That’s great. Have a wonderful day“, she said and I stumbled out in a daze into the afternoon sun. That is a strong dose of Australian attitude- peppy, lively, reaching out and putting others at ease...
Now, I have always been a modest guy for two important reasons. (a) I like modest guys and I like to help them out. I believe that there are many out there like me and by being at my modest best, I would like to be benefited by their kindness and
(b) I have much to be modest about.
Life in Delhi could make one seriously rethink that philosophy. Three years in the Capital of India and I am convinced that the meek shall be crushed to the earth; far less than inheriting any of it. Body language, good tailoring and attitude counts for much in Delhi. It is how you walk in to a place that will determine the treatment you get from anyone. This is true as much for the power corridors of South Block as it is for the flea market in Chandni Chowk. Australia looks like reinvesting me with a belief in the essential goodness of people.
There have been times when I was wandering around, puzzled, looking for a place, when someone would ask me whether I am alright. The Bus drivers smile and wish you as you get in. A brief chat about the weather follows to the regulars as they swipe the card. It is the same driver in our route and even passengers are more or less the same. There is no hurry as the driver waits for passengers to search for their card/ coins/cash. When we thank them as we go out, they might respond with a deep “No worries mate”. That’s Australian for "You are welcome" or "don’t mention it"…
***************************************************************************************
The greatest development of Australian life is that Chathu now is a responsible citizen. In Delhi we had a host of maids keeping us going round the clock and I suspect he used domestic help to get the socks off his feet as he came in from school. Now he opens the house, heats the chapattis, microwaves the curry, eats, washes the plates, helps to hang up the washing. I am impressed. He is chilled out about school. Says he is treated like an adult out there. That scares me. No homework, not much pressure…He won’t be fit for the Great Indian School rat race when he gets back. In any case I have serious doubts about him making it to the IITs and IIMs. You can see the pictures of him washing the plates and putting out the clothes to dry....
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