Why so discourteous?

Flatulence, as you know, kids, is the expulsion through the rectum of a mixture of gases that are a byproduct of the digestive process of mammals mainly. The noises commonly associated with flatulence are caused by the vibration of the anal sphincter and occasionally This mixture of gases is known as flatus or informally, as a simple fart. Apparently, someone who farts for a living — a professional farter is called a flatulist. Apparently.

An air-biscuit is another name for flatus, that is far nastier, but a lot funnier too. Air-biscuits are undoubtedly the source of much mirth and hilarity. They’re not, you say? Then how do you explain the fact that the business of whoopee cushions is still booming? Maybe it isn’t. I don’t know for sure. But I do know they’re sold all over the world. I also know that they have remote-controlled devices that can emit the sounds of a flatus symphony... on demand.

I also know something that might be an urban legend but here goes... some weird girl, well known to a few friends of mine, allegedly goes around saying, “Oops! Came out!” every time she drops an air-biscuit, the frequency of which I’m told is alarmingly regular. Could be a flatulist for all we know. Anyway, the comedy value of farts is not something I intend to discuss here.

It’s the timing that I’m more concerned about. Only a couple of hours ago, I attended a meeting of the mayor of Stuttgart and his Mumbai counterpart. I would’ve thought the occasion would bring out the best behaviour from Mumbai’s representatives, who in an ideal world, would want to show their city in the best light. Wake up and smell the moonshine, I later found me saying to myself. When it wasn’t a reporter burping or slurping tea uncomfortably close to my ear, it was a senior councillor unleashing his volley of burps. When that wasn’t the case, it was Mumbai’s mayor who had no idea of what to say or do, leaping at the snacks on offer, almost as if it was the last plate of sandwiches (and some other junk) left in the world.

Then, as the discussion between the Stuttgart mayor and the commissioner of Mumbai (because the mayor of Mumbai had nothing to say) got to the topic of water management, I hear one of the peons — as he walks past me — let out a low, bass-heavy rear blast. I watched on incredulously as he continued walking nonchalantly past the dignitaries. Ok,... that happened, I said to myself as I tried to pay attention to what this dude from Deutschland was talking about.

Then it happened. That final switch. That last thing that told me loud and clear — Citizens of my city have absolutely no regard for manners, courtesy or even appropriate behaviour.

<I had an inkling about this when I first started living in Mumbai in 2005, when I noticed how people could not stop staring... at anything... anyone. A number of people I know have ranted about this staring thing, some have blogged. In fact, I know a few of these starers too.>

Staring, though was the least of my concerns. That final switch was the realisation that people believe it to be their God-given right to have their mobile phones on Ultra Loud mode at the most idiotic times. I’ve known this for a while, but it all came together today. I’ve seen mobiles ringing loudly in hospital wards, theatres during plays, cinema halls, press conferences, college lectures and even at a small meeting with the Nation’s Prime Minister.

The worst offenders are cameramen and photographers, who for some reason live under the belief that vibrate mode has not been invented and such a concept does not even exist. In fact, talking softly is a concept that’s alien to them as well. Aside from a couple of exceptions, most people I know in these categories are the loudest and most obnoxious people alive. To top it all off, they have the most annoying ringtones on the planet. Criminally irritating stuff.

Today’s photographers were no exception. Loud jangly and oppressive ringtones. In the middle of the meeting. What took the cake was that the deputy public relations officer, for whom (on a side note) food is a fulltime occupation, also did not have the sense to keep his phone silent, because sure enough, his phone began ringing loudly, throwing the mayor of Stuttgart off for a moment, in the middle of a sentence.

The deputy PRO merely glances at his phone... in the process, allowing it to ring for a while longer and then as nonchalantly as the farting peon, proceeds to slip the phone back into his pocket, as his eyes track another plate-load of food travelling across the room.

It wouldn’t be right to pass judgment, I know. And I’ve always been taught that being rude to someone rude, isn’t the right way to do things. The fact that I disregard those teachings most of the time is a different story altogether. Telling someone something politely... that serves no purpose. Yelling at them... even worse as you’ll probably get beaten. Ignoring them... hard to do, very hard to do and in a way, it shows that you accept what they’re doing.

So what have we learnt? Nothing.
What changes will we make in the future? None.
Where will all the knowlege you’ve gathered through this post, take you? Nowhere.

And yet, the sheer degree of catharsis from having vented all this, compels me to quote Lt. Aldo Raine who said, “You know somethin’, Utivich? I think this might just be my masterpiece.”