I thought of a scene at Delhi’s international airport some years ago. A twentysomething north Indian woman, ground staff of a European airline, stood by the X-ray machine asking everyone, “Are you sure you don’t have any pickle in your cabin baggage?” She turned to an elderly rustic Punjabi woman with her young son and said if you do, please move it to your check-in baggage. Sure enough, they opened their bags and did. Her grin seemed to say: “Indians will be Indians, so you will carry your pickle. Well, do so by all means, but no way are we letting your pickle stain our tapestry.”
These days, I’m glad when I can spot a community trait instead of a soulless “global soul”.
Epaper
Newsletter
Stocks
Weather
Horoscope
