"Do Desis reserve special treatment for other desis? Is it perhaps based on how we see other desis versus how we see the rest of the American world?", wonders Ranjana Ghosh.

The other day, two friends and I sauntered over to a popular Indian restaurant in the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St Paul, hungering for some quick real food. What we didn’t realize was that the entire city, nay, the entire world, was high on this commercial love fest that day, commemorating the martyrdom of St Valentine. None of us were really into that, but were rudely awakened to reality by the inevitable parking shortage, long wait for a table, the sights of red hearts and cupid’s arrows strewn all over the place and yes of course, starry eyed couples gazing lovingly into one another’s eyes.

Our long wait ended fairly quickly, much to our delight and we were shown a nice comfortable seating. We knew what we wanted and asked for it without much delay or ado and patiently awaited our grub, watching people all over the crowded restaurant in the meantime.

Our server, a fairly friendly chap, who almost knows us on a first name basis (a couple of more visits and we’ll be there!) came with our food, rudely pushed away our glasses of water, hurriedly set our plates on the table and vanished off into thin air without as much as a nod of acknowledgement of our presence. We were a little puzzled by his demeanour but attributed it to the fact that he had about a hundred other love struck people who needed to be fed as well. However, we did notice that though he was on the whole rushed, he was more courteous to other customers, who, not surprisingly, were not desi.

Now, I’m not writing this to assuage my wounded ego or as a tirade against my busy friend. That little incident just got me thinking-- how well do we desis treat other desis- whether here in the US or back home?

How often would you bump into a complete stranger on the street and say “Hi, how’s it going” or pass a simple cursory smile or nod? How often would you do it if that stranger was a desi?

How often do you help out other passengers by moving your luggage a bit in the overhead cabin space or offering to lift that heavy bag up there? Would you do it if the other was a desi?

Would you respond back to a hello from a stranger in a flight, in the supermarket, at a hotel lobby, wherever? Would you, if he or she were a desi?

We are so particular about extending courtesies here and ensure we mind our P’s and Q’s, we are patient on the roads when pedestrians cross, we don’t raise our voices or abuse or create much of a fuss when something doesn’t go right, we use proper channels to voice our concerns- we are etiquette personified. But all that changes, when we are interacting with desis. How often do we thank the “bai’s” at home, or the “Chhotu’s” and “Ramu’s” at the dhabas and countless others, for their muted, yet tireless service that keeps our wheels churning? Why do we forget to signal our turns or yield way to oncoming traffic, not give way to wailing ambulances, or just simply obey rules? Why do we insist on honking the beejeebies out of everyone on the road, insist on waking our neighbours in the middle of the night or in the wee hours of the mornings with loudspeaker broadcasts of our religious fervours, spitting on roads, throwing trash anywhere and everywhere, relieving ourselves in public?

The list of why’s goes on and on and on. Perhaps – the biggest “why” of them all is – Why don’t we extend similar courtesies to our countrymen, that seemingly come so natural to us while interacting with others? Why this desi vs. desi syndrome?

Ranjana Ghosh can be reached at ranjana.ghosh@gmail.com

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