And I was thinking....

It isn’t the first time when I have thought about this. And thus am going to write it down. At the risk of sounding a prude, or a snob, that I might be made out to be after this, I am still risking it all.

Yesterday evening, as I stood at the top of an escalator at a mall, wanting to go flying down, rather than take the stairs (I agree, its not great for my health), I found my way blocked. I just couldn’t move ahead. As I looked up, I saw a woman with her entire family (running to about 12) standing at the top of the moving staircase. Her children were jumping up and down, and she was frantically trying to hold them back from jumping on the escalator, and presumably avoid the kind of fate the other 6 year old had met at the Delhi International airport couple of years back. Their father was clinging on to the staircase the sides and screaming at the children to stop. Her sister/aunt or someone was trying to experience the escalator by going up and down and smiling comfortably all this while. This would have all been fun for the kids and the aunt, but for the fact that they were blocking movement of close to 100 people waiting to get on that escalator.

You see, the twist does not lie here. At this point, I would like to tell you that the family was one from the ones labeled as “lower classes”. Fresh into the concept of a mall, the children had no idea what a line for billing at Spencer’s was, and pushed all about trying to get their chocolates billed. Well, sure. The power of the rising Indian.

For those who know the restless soul inside me, you would have probably guessed my reaction by now. Either would have made a comment, or something like else like take the staircase. I did neither. Instead, I stood there watching them and evaluated myself on the two thoughts, which came one by one sequentially to me.

The first was the instant irritable thought. Why are these people here? I hate the concept of the rising Indian. These people are everywhere. Making long queues at the airport now as well. What happened to the royalty associated with flying in the skies? Ughh, Give way lady.
And almost instantaneously, the other thought cajoling me to be nice and polite and let the children swing their way through the escalator for ten/fifteen minutes while me and others behind me stood trying to get into our respective vehicles and drive away to other important things. And that we should all be benevolent and patient and think about the rising consumer, made up of these people who are somehow connected to all the money and decisions we make in life. There are people I know who are strong advocators of this. But I know somewhere they are just justifying that other urge in their conscience, which struck me too. How many of us can really say, yes we never get annoyed when they block ways, make scenes, when their children run wild in such places, when we see them taking the very next place in the airplane?

That’s still not strange. The strange part is, have we forgotten where we came from?
Not all of us were born into riches. Dint we all experience the thrill of the escalator a first time? Going up and down? Wasn’t there a first time we flew in the skies? I still remember the first time not so long back; I tried to use my debit card at Westside.
It was a funny scene. The store clerk kept saying something in Hebrew, and I had no idea what to do with that thing in my hand. I finally figured it’s his job and not mine and gave it to him. At one of these reality-singing shows on TV, one of the participants was mentioning that while she tried to get an audition with various music directors, she met with rude, ridicule ridden comments. She blankly asked one of the judges if the biggies forget where they came from. He didn’t know what to say, and of course, as part of the show, he dint fit the bill.But her question begets an answer, did we?