As I travel outside India, I often hear people taking pride in eastern spiritualism and deriding western materialism. The notion of material comforts versus peace of mind. Yes, life is simple in India. Yes, we do things you would term culturally rich. But we also commit shocking acts in the name of religion. And I have met remarkably materialistic Indians, just as I have met remarkably generous Danes. I’m slowly starting to reject the spiritually elevated nature of East versus the hollow materialist West as just another stereotype. All young people I’ve met across the continents are the same. All guys, well most of them, talk about getting laid and which girls they want to hit on. CBS exchange student residence dinners had girls casually categorizing bars where guys grope genitals softly. We Indians do the same. You talk, we whisper. Same subjects. I think there’s much more to learn from each other than we all care to believe.
Indians are so very good at laughing off misery. We experience 1-2 hour electricity power cuts in a day about as often as Danes party in a week. Go 50 miles from New Delhi and it gets worse. But we make good use of it. In the darkness we talk. We go for a walk. We joke about it. I still remember Henrik’s expression when the water tap went dry for 20 minutes one day in four months and how he riled about his 60 percent income tax return to Mr. Rasmussen’s kitty. You Danes are rich, spoilt and demanding. You could learn some patience from us.
Indians are so very emotional. We are the Bollywood breed. We are better lovers than the Italians. We fantasize too much. We also compromise too much. I think India’s sub five percent divorce rates are as misleading as Denmark’s 60-something percent divorce rates. Those five percent hides quite a number of unhappy households, female social divorce stigma and male dominance. You Danes are much better at handling relationships. You move on. We often drag relationships. But family gives us the greatest pleasure. We never travel alone. We never eat alone. We never shop alone. We’re always a bunch. We are never alone. We are so very socially potent. Moms, dads, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, nephews and nieces are our life. You could learn some family relationship management from us.
Indians are entertaining drinkers. We simply don’t know how to. Decades of strict government control on alcohol has catapulted drunkards into collective social despisement. If you are walking funny in the middle of the night in India, expect no sympathy. If you fall, you’re going to stay there until you wake up next morning. Danes drink to celebrate – so very often without reason. I was amazed by the remarkable tolerance you have for drunks. Indians start out drinking to celebrate, but end up melodramatically imparting great worldly wisdom to everyone around. For teetotalers, it’s a hilarious sight. We need to learn drinking from you. We all need to join the two-month-Danish-beer-boot-camps.
Indians need to give more space for women in politics, public service and on the dance floor. There are too many men out. Ludicrous it may sound, considering that India’s crime rate against women is several notches higher than Denmark’s, we are brought up where the society’s civility quotient is directly proportional to the moral conduct of women. It’s so much freer to be a man here. The thought of randomly grabbing a girl’s rear in the middle of drunken fest in the Barcelona Bar in Copenhagen comes with a moral liability. It should. But a woman’s willingness under disco lights shouldn’t decide the moral meter of our society. We need to learn from you. Indian men should do dishes more often.
Indians take education too seriously – maybe because of our population of one billion people or having so much free talent at our disposal. But we take it all too seriously. We worry about exams more than the content of the education itself. It should be more like CBS. Learning should be fun. We need to have cooler professors. We need to have fashion shows late in the day followed by free beer. Okay, free flavored milk and juices. We need to party like you on Friday and Saturday nights.
I was dating Denmark for four months. I followed her every move, at every hour. How they got your paperwork done at the local Kommune. How the professors took time to meet you. How the neXus staff welcomed you. How the librarian went down the basement to search for the book for you. How the neighbors on the upper floor talked to you the day after your late night partying. How the bus driver took time to understand where you needed to go. She was delightful.
Whenever I think of Denmark in the future, I will think of Solbjerg Plads, drunk young people, old people in buses, kissing couples, sleeping babies on the back of bicycles and a lovely Danish Christmas with Henrik’s family. I will always cherish my Danish memories.
Five stars to CBS’ exchange program. Thanks for the beer too.
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