By Heather Saville Gupta,
Chief Talent Officer, The 120 Media Collective
Once upon a time, England was the place I called home. I had no problem dealing with its grumpy inhabitants, chilly mornings, formality which often bordered on the ridiculous, and stiff upper lip. I’d plan my life with military precision, I would wait patiently for the lights to change, pay eye-watering prices for the plumber to tighten a dripping tap, and happily lug my own weekly shopping on and off the crowded bus. And of course, when I took public transport, I’d never dream of making eye contact with a stranger. I would be physically incapable of jumping a queue or even knocking on my neighbour’s door without a prior appointment. Life in England is simple, there are rules to be followed, an unspoken code of conduct and a straightforward manner of keeping yourself at a respectable distance from other people.
All of that changed when I moved to Mumbai. Initially, I clung to the vestiges of my English self. I insisted on trying to make people form an orderly queue whether at the bank, the airport check-in desk or the supermarket. I turned up for meetings on time, or even a few minutes early. I avoided my neighbours, and refused to make eye contact with the hordes of people staring at me in the streets. Gradually, I realized that this was completely counter-productive, and unless I adapted and, dare I say it, changed, then I’d end up permanently frustrated, with my teeth continually gritted, and more importantly, I’d be sitting alone for hours waiting for meetings to start.
As I adjusted, and modified my behaviour, I found my attitude towards England changing. I began to – gasp – look people in the eye on the Tube. I even occasionally broke into laughter, in public, when I saw something which amused me. I called my friends and with a day’s notice, suggested we catch up for a drink. I stopped slowing the car when the lights turned amber, and instead put my foot down to zoom through just before the lights turned red. And as my years in Mumbai marched on, I apparently became more and more insufferable when I returned home, raising my voice in restaurants, losing my patience at the drop of a hat and, spending hours and hours wandering the over-laden aisles at the Tesco hypermarket, unable to decide which of the ‘luxuries’ to put into my basket.
Now, after a decade in India, and with the benefit of an awful lot of travelling to and fro, and an Indian husband to help me get some perspective, I’m trying to strike a balance. What initially seemed ridiculous now seems sensible. What seemed irrelevant now seems logical. I’ve tried to dig beneath the psyche of each country, to understand why Indians think queuing is a waste of time and why Brits talk about the weather all the time. I’ve now spent a quarter of my life in India and I like to think that I have the best of both worlds. Although, if you ever have a meeting with me, you’d better not be late! Scratch the surface, and you’ll find an obsessively punctual Brit, however ‘Indianized’ I may claim to have become.
Feedback: heather@the120mediacollective.com
