For those like me who have spent more than 50 years in Mumbai, it was a rude shock to learn that we are the “rudest” people in the world. Most Mumbaikars take it for granted that they are the most well-mannered, cooperative, compassionate and concerned people in the world. Naturally, no one is in a mood to accept the survey. But being Mumbaikars, they have taken it in their stride. They do not want to question the findings nor do they want to take the issue to the International Court of Justice. They choose to introspect, or better, laugh it off. The Mumbaikar is too busy catching his local train or bus or solving his crossword or sudoku. Or just earning money. If he doesn’t earn, he doesn’t live. Mumbaikars are just terribly occupied enriching the coffers of the central exchequer. After all, they have to run the economy of the country. The surveyors just missed the point, it seems. Which Mumbaikars did they survey? Of the 1.8 crore people in the city, as many as 1.1 crore live in the slums more dense than black holes. If a surveyor ever visited them, he would have found them extremely considerate and warm. He would have been offered water to drink—it’s another matter that he’d have fainted by the looks of that water. Maybe he’d have concluded that people are so rude, they don’t even bother to give clean water to a guest. The Dharavi resident would not be able to offer a proper seat to the visitor. But he would certainly offer a “cuttin chai” in a glass too hot to hold. Maybe that’s rude too. Mumbaikars on footpaths or slums, helps a person in distress. Most commuters go out of way to help one into a running train. Only those who have travelled in those mobile concentration camps can understand the cooperative character of the people. But yes, they have no time to answer the questions of the survey teams. Also, the surveyors would not be able to observe their socio-cultural behaviour. There is simply no space. Reaching his destination is the Mumbaikar’s greatest achievement of life—be it to home or work. He is more cruel to himself than to others, more indifferent to his wife and children than to neighbours. But still, he somehow manages to live and let live peacefully. If indeed he were to lose his balance and temper, the metropolis would be on fire everyday. There will be murders and mayhem and riot. His decency and concern are difficult to notice because that itself requires patience and compassion. Moreover, there is not one Mumbai. There is corporate Mumbai, then there is middle class metropolis and then there is vast “slumopolis”. They live different, if not parallel lives. Their “address” and lifestyle determines their value systems. There is nothing like an “average” Mumbaikar. How can there be a common ground between a slumdweller and the resident of the Malabar Hill or Pali Hill? What commonality is there between the middle class, white collar resident of a “Vivekanand” society and the handcart puller? But would those 1.1 crore people who live such bizarre life in the slums and gutters, choose to leave Mumbai and go back to the village they came from? No. Because they feel, with all its ugliness, there is some human contact in this otherwise inhuman city. Back in the village, he is oppressed in the name of caste, income, class, status, education and political connection. Here, he is anonymous. His worth is measured in terms of his output, the quality of that output, his efficiency, his being cooperative in factory, office or in shop or whatever trade he/she is in. It is this anonymous Mumbaikar who crowds Sachin Tendulkar and Salman Khan. This anonymous Mumbaikar, who saved hundreds of lives in last year’s floods, even though he might have lost everything. There was neither class divide, nor religious divide there. How could they have done this if they were not helpful, cooperative, patient, compassionate and considerate? It was possible only because all of them were anonymous. Maybe, the Readers’ Digest team should have been there. The writer is editor, Loksatta
