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Is Chennai a rude city?

In the frenetic pace of city life, do people have the time to be polite? GEETA PADMANABHAN reports

Answer these three questions. Honestly. [1] Would you hold doors open for people behind you? [2] Would you rush to pick up a newspaper dropped by a stranger? [3] If you were a shop assistant, would you thank your customer post-sale? If your answer to the questions is "yes", pat yourself. If it's "no", consider yourself rude. Enrol for a crash course in manners. In a study, Reader's Digest's correspondents used these benchmarks to check the politeness quotient (PQ) of metrozens in 35 world cities. After the 60 tests in Mumbai failed to trap people into holding doors open, picking up dropped papers or thanking customers, the magazine put the city at the bottom of the heap and declared it the rudest. New York finished at the top while London and Paris crowded in the middle. The Digest published the conclusion with the disclaimer, "We realise this isn't a rigorous scientific study, but we believe it is a reasonable real-world test of good manners." Ha. By the way, is it polite to call someone rude?

For Mumbaikars, it was a rude shock. Punching furiously at keyboards, they pointed out that the test ignored cultural differences. We don't say the word but we certainly smile our thanks. Doesn't body language count as courtesy? Dhilliwallas are outraged too. "Mumbai, the rudest?" snorted a CA. "Not while Delhi is alive!" Chennai-ites are miffed they were not consulted. "In language alone, we would have beaten Mumbai," said Raj, 29, TCS. Salil Chaturvedi, writer-poet bristled: "We are insensitive as a race. My neighbour regularly lets his car-wash collect in front of my gate; people park vehicles without a thought to others' inconvenience. Point it out, you'll be caught in a fight."

Why do we do this? "In a metro bustling with activity, people don't have the extra time to be polite or courteous," said Raj, controversially. "People in high society keep thinking about work and deadlines, middle and lower levels get stranded in commuting, home problems, rising inflation ... and lose their sense of courtesy. And autos! You need not even say. Perhaps retired people are the best when it comes to being nice."

Adman Mohan Menon blames it on environment conditioning. "Try and be polite in a bus queue in rush hour in Chennai. Nice guys will quite literally finish last. The increasing cases of road rage are a vivid example of people venting their anger and frustration. The well educated too can be shockingly rude and abusive. `Culture' is for sabha evenings. Are people as rude in smaller towns and villages? I think not. Big isn't always beautiful."

Lack of training

We aren't ready for modernity, said Salil. "Every society needs to train its members into accepted forms of behaviour. Our rudeness has its roots in the lack of training in modern living. Villagers are less rude and more hospitable. They don't have the pressures of a modern lifestyle." With alarming candour, "Isn't politeness a form of hypocrisy," asked retiree Ram. "Why would you thank shoppers you want to whack with your measuring rod? Also, we are like this because we don't know any other way. That can't be rudeness!" Rudeness can be situational (provoked) or internal, said counsellor Saras Bhaskar. Some people are rude for no reason at all (thanks for confirming that, Doctor) "If it creates problems, work it through counselling and guidance."

What we need is a desi courtesy rating. After all, our road, queue, spitting and interruption habits are entirely different from those seen elsewhere. Chennai-ites are not likely to hold doors open for fellow persons. Rudeness? Nah... Here men always went ahead and shut the door behind to protect the family. Anyway, the Chennai male can hold it open for women only at the risk of being tagged "Kooja thookki". And aren't you happy people walk through a door without slamming it on your face?

Picking up dropped papers isn't courteous either. "No, no!" the dropper might scream in complete distrust of your unexpected action. Again, it's a "pozhaikka theriyadavan" who would waste time collecting dropped papers from the general litter. We stoop to pick-level only if the paper happens to be money.

But we must come down heavily on retailers for not thanking buyers. Where else can you find bargain hunters believing statements like, "The dress is the right size/fast colour, madam," or "It's a fast-moving item," or "Fresh stocks arrive tomorrow, sir"? Where do consumers grab old idli maavu stacked on the front, leaving the fresh ones at the back for the next day? Accept bundles of greens with rot in the middle? Cold-shoulder guarantee cards, let fly receipts outside the shop? We never bother to crosscheck weights and adulteration is no sin for us. Yes sir, we purchasers deserve a big "thanks".

For a genuine PQ appraisal, researchers must [1] spend time at a bus stand at peak hour (is there a lean hour?) shadowing both the drivers and the commuters, [2] follow pedigree dog owners walking their pets, [3] watch mobile conversationalists and [4] tell middle-of-the-road chatters to take their discussions to the sidewalk.

But ours is a tolerant city. We may toot the horn throughout the drive, ring doorbells non-stop, answer cell phones in the movie hall, bawl at our subordinates and let our dog bark all night. But we put up with a lot, starting with silencer-free autos, bansheeing trucks and callous co-residents. We "adjust". We are expected to. As the guy who crashed into Salil's car said, "If you live in a crowded city, you should expect your car to be scratched!"

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