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Aradhika Sharma
The conversations during my Air China flight to Vancouver were quite edifying. Certainly, I got doses of the typical Punjabi person travelling abroad.
Peering in through the glass, trying to spot my check-in counter before entering the doors of the crowded Delhi airport, I thought that I should look for the counter before which lots of Chinese people were queuing up. Turned out that my counter was the one for which hoards of Punjabis were making a beeline. Indeed, it seemed as if an entire pind of Punjab had lined up in a serpentine, uneven queue. I don’t believe I’d seen so many Punjabis together even in the Bazaars of Patiala! The common destination was Kaneda.
Many of them were completely out of their depths, never having set foot even out of their province. Sone pe suhaaga was the fact that their carrier of choice was a Chinese aircraft, wherein neither could the Chinese staff comprehend its rustic passengers, and nor could the hapless passengers muster up enough English (or courage) to even request for a glass of water. I tried to help the best I could, soon finding that I had, willy-nilly, been unofficially designated the interpreter and ‘tour guide’ of a group who seemed to have, much like limpets, attached themselves to me.
“Why these Cheeni don’t have Punjabi translator in hawai jahaaz? At least one Cheeni should know Punjabi, nahin?” A gentleman from Mohali with a smattering of the queen’s language opined.
“It would be simpler if Punjabi people learnt English,” I answered. “At least it’s a common world language.”
“Why a Punjabi person should learn English only to fly in Cheeni plane?” he argued.
“Perhaps because the Punjabi person is going to Canada where most people speak English,” I retorted. “How else will the Punjabis understand their language?”
“Hain! Kaneda wich saare Punjabi bolde hain!” he retorted and jabbed at the TV, probably to try and find Jatt and Juliet or some such linguistically suitable movie.
The plane was to break journey in Beejingg (Beijing). When we boarded again, a rustic young gentleman seated across the aisle from me summoned the pretty stewardess on duty and made a somewhat unusual request:
“Show me Cheeni money,” he demanded. The girl smiled sweetly and said, “Sorry… no understand.”
“Money… money…” the man insisted, pulling out a 500 rupee note from his wallet and waving it. “Cheeni money… show me”. The poor girl looked startled. I thought it was opportune to intervene before she summoned security and the young rustic gentleman was detained for making improper propositions.
It’s sad if we must be embarrassed about our own countrymen. If this be the typical representation of our countrymen abroad, one wonders whether being from a pind is excuse enough for anyone to not learn about the expectations of behaviour in public spaces? If our populace cannot be trusted to behave appropriately and display due regard for others, then some orientation towards travel behaviour should be mandated before we unleash our masses on the world.
High time we learnt to earn respect!
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