Stereotyping Is Always Bad

It was a rainy evening of
October when I had arrived in Chennai for the first time with fifteen of my
colleagues, six years back. We were soaking wet from waiting for the taxis
outside the railway station. Our luggage was no better. We could only shudder to
think what nightmare awaited us when we opened those. The loud complaints that
I had been hearing during the long 20 hours of journey had become cries of
despair now. Indeed, I remember myself start softening towards the others at
this point, we had barely set foot in the city and our sufferings had already
started!




We were coming from Pune. I
still remember the disbelief that had given into horror later when we had
learnt that we were being posted in Chennai. We were so shocked that we
couldn’t speak for several minutes. Nobody wanted to come to Chennai. Everyone
knew it was a place where dwelled ugly people who ate tamarind in every type of
food that was cooked in coconut oil. Also my oh-so-fair “North Indian” friends were running a risk of being irreversibly
tanned. Several of them considered quitting the jobs. Several returned to the
manager’s room to beg. Ultimately S and I were the only two girls in the group
of sixteen who had to travel to Chennai. Others were aghast that we didn’t beg
with the manager, that we were really fine with going to Chennai. We had taken
a train to Chennai from Pune and by the time we reached, I was brainwashed
enough to doubt whether I was insane to choose to come here.




          The next few days weren’t much better. Amidst sickly rains
and muddy streets as we roamed to find a decent house we were cheated numerous
times by auto drivers who charged Rs. 300 for going from Chinnamalai to Indira
Nagar, laughed at and rudely gestured at by brokers because we didn’t speak
Tamil, humiliated by bus conductors because we didn’t know that it was us who
needed to go to him to buy tickets and not the opposite and many more such
hings. We stayed in a hostel that was infested with cockroaches and where the
warden didn’t even allow talking with a male colleague who came to visit. We
were criticized badly as uncultured “North Indians” just because we climbed up
the desk to hang Christmas decorations from the ceiling in office – any girl
with a proper upbringing wouldn’t do that, imitating boys and climbing up
desks!




But when S and I laughed at
these things and went back at being at peace once again, the others fumed. While
we appreciated the good things, they started ignoring them and blowing up the
bad(s) out of proportions. Slowly we started to scatter away and before the
year had turned, most of them had left the city for “better places” while I
stayed back along with S and a handful more.




Today, six years later, when we
look back, remarkably, while I have all good things to say about Chennai and
its people as I know them, they seem to have nothing short of spitting venom.




While I remember the old
gatekeeper of the housing complex I lived in, who always smiled at me and told
my parents (when they visited) that they needn’t worry, he’d look after their
daughter in Tamil, and, then, realizing that they didn’t understand the
language, took huge pain to explain using sign language; they remember the
cranky neighbour of theirs who complained to their house owner because they
made a racket of bursting firecrackers!




I remember the vegetable vendor
who, upon learning that I was from West Bengal and loved eating fish, kept
providing me with information about new sources of fresh fish! I remember my
boss who was my mentor and tutor in true sense and to whom I still owe
everything I know till date. I remember those two beautiful girls who somehow so
unexpectedly became my best buddies in spite of the fact that we came from
backgrounds that couldn’t be more different. I remember the wondrous applause
in the eyes of those people who had gathered around the old sick man I was
helping by the road. I remember my elderly neighbour who always cooked an extra
set of dosas for me whenever she made some, and yet, we never spoke except few
gestures and smiles.




My friends couldn’t remember
anything even remotely positive about the city, while I was so full of them. And
that’s when I found myself, to my own surprise, defending Chennai and its
people and that somehow amidst all these small things, Chennai had become home
to me!




I mulled over it and I think
it’s the outlook that mattered. While I was friendly from the beginning, they
were brooding. I warmed up to the people and let them see that I was no
different from them, while my friends took pride in proving that they, as North
Indians, were superior.




It’s not only them though. I
had once asked a Tamil guy, what their definition of North India was!
“Everything that’s north to the Deccan plateaus”, pat had come the reply. And
he went further describing a rather humiliating stereotype of “North India”,
which showed his total lack of knowledge of people who actually lived in “North
India.”




Most of us, I find, have an
opinion formed even before we meet someone or visit some place. We then look
not beyond, but try to fit in everything within the definition we have known. For
some of us, the stereotypes matter so much that we refuse to see the reality
even if it lies naked in front of our eyes, because we are afraid of variety,
change, and of the different, the unknown. We prefer to hold on to simple and
ordinary classifications, and whatever we feel comfortable with.






It’s not always aggressive,
rather it’s an over simplified generalization that eases the burden of
considering each individual separately. Especially the North Indian and South
Indian stereotyping in our country have gone a bit too far. It took me a really
long discussion to figure it out that we have got it all wrong! If you are from
a Non South Indian state, chances are, there’s a macro programmed inside your
head which is triggered by the word South India. And the output is always an
oversimplified, “Oh, he is a Madrasi!” And vice versa!



But do you think it’s fair? Do you
think judging a person even before knowing him is right?  Well, if you don’t know already, let me tell
you, it’s NOT. Don’t generalize. Don’t project your opinion formed from your
experiences of someone onto another one. Next time you find yourself justifying
a stereotype, any stereotype, recognize it and rectify it, give the person
before you a chance!




Love

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