Surviving Sanely

As one of those silly naive children of this world who believe we can help make the world a better place by participating in society and by enforcing good behaviors, and discouraging destructive ones, I have the bad habit of caring a bit too much at times. 

Those who can survive in India over long periods of time do so via apathy and a passive disregard for things which strike them as immoral. It starts with cultural relativism, not questioning how others live their lives, pretending they are equally good.

Add a pinch of tolerance for the intolerant. You see beliefs, behaviors, and systems which, by definition, exclude, persecute, and breed intolerance. When combined with step one, this becomes tautological.

Lastly, garnish with hypocritical immoralities, and argue you can change nothing as a foreigner. Things like pollution, cheating, corruption; all committed by foreigners who sincerely believe themselves to be in Rome, and act accordingly. 

This type of moral lethargy truly gets to the locals, as I am constantly hearing stories which justify their behavior through anecdotal examples using foreigners as role models. Standing up to corruption? Nah, that’s only in the movies!

Don’t forget, in many developing countries, entire government offices or public industries are designed to multiply the corruptions. Go here, get a form, use this agent to sign it, get that officer’s permission, pay the processing fees, wait in that cue to get the proper…..

So allow me to shuffle and deal and example of the daily stresses you may find in northern India. 

Yesterday, I set out to send my Absentee Voting Ballot to the States, trying to get my vote in on time. Walking to the post office, was I wrong to assume there were some basic qualities to a post office? Waiting in front of four idle customer service booths, all four gentlemen refused to even glance at me. As I played the waiting game, others simply pushed me out of the way and demanded attention. Ahh, I see. So I pushed them out of the way and demanded attention. No English…ok. So I went through the employee entrance and went into the back, asking who can speak English. 

Don’t forget, more Indians speak English than any other language, and only around half of the population speaks Hindi. That said, if the local government only hires Hindi speakers, in a town where the largest industry is tourism…. It doesn’t say much for forethought.

 

I finally found someone who spoke utterances, it was enough. Ten minutes later, he realized I was asking for an envelope. No, the post office doesn’t sell envelopes. You have to go to the stationary shop for that. 

So, following bad directions, being thrown off course by unwitting locals pointing random directions, I got to a stationary shop, and bought a couple of envelopes. When I got back, the guy forgot who I was and I had to start all over again. Just an off note, but what kind of post office doesn’t carry basic office equipment like scissors, a stapler, or a ruler? Finally getting the damn thing sent, I went back to my guest house for a coffee, showing the owner the ridiculous 600IDR ($11) I paid to send an envelope to the US. 

That was then I realized the gobshite sent the package to Perth, Australia. ….sigh. Trying to jog back to the office before they sent it, I was impatient at this point, to say the least. Then again, I should have checked it.

Why did you send it to Australia? If you weren’t sure, why not ask? Before I can ask these questions, I was told to get behind the ‘cue’ of 25+ people crowded around one window. No. Barging back into the processing room, I demanded someone correct their mistake and fast. Once again, it seems this is the most effective method. A while later, after supervising the process, and correcting four more mistakes while he was typing, I also had to point out that the new address to the USA was about 100 rupees less. Refunding me, they hoped I had not seen this. When it was all said and done, the man, a.k.a. gobshite, asked for money for helping me. 

In other words, because I did not wait, I should give him cash for putting up with me. Five, four, three, two…. I cried corruption for all to hear, and then left. I am aware this put my envelope in jeopardy, but I am not sure if Mr. Gobshite realized I am pedantic enough to have taken his name and plan to check in Delhi if the package made it through. 

I can only hope that at least one person could see that you do not need to deal with it. I am not some entitled foreigner demanding respect. We are all entitled to respect, and until we all demand it of society, some will always take advantage of most. Traditional countries push cultures of the blind, philosophies of servitude, and lifestyles born into debt. The question is, how to encourage most to demand some?