While our ability to travel has advanced rapidly, our understanding of what it means to be a considerate tourist has not always kept pace, writes Harsh Goenka
A few years ago, while holidaying in Gstaad, Switzerland, I came across something that left me both uncomfortable and reflective. In the lobby of the charming Arc-en-Ciel Hotel was a notice addressed exclusively to Indian guests. It politely requested that guests not carry food away from the breakfast buffet, avoid speaking loudly in corridors and balconies, use only the cutlery provided, and be mindful of other guests. My immediate reaction was one of annoyance. Why should an entire nationality be singled out? Why should Indians need a special set of instructions? As someone deeply proud of my country, I found it mildly offensive.
Later that day, however, I sat quietly in the lobby and observed what was happening around me. Several Indian families had gathered there. One group had spread theplas across a coffee table while the unmistakable aroma of pickle drifted through the room. Children were racing around the lobby with boundless energy while conversations were taking place at a volume that ensured everyone in the hotel could hear them. The atmosphere felt less like a serene Swiss mountain retreat and more like a bustling Indian railway station. Suddenly, I found myself without a convincing counterargument. That moment has stayed with me ever since.
India has changed dramatically over the past two decades. Millions of Indians now travel abroad every year. International holidays that were once considered aspirational have become commonplace. We are among the fastest-growing groups of international tourists in the world. This is a matter of enormous pride. It reflects our rising prosperity, our confidence, and our growing place on the global stage. Yet while our ability to travel has advanced rapidly, our understanding of what it means to be a considerate tourist has not always kept pace.
Over the past few years, social media has been filled with videos that are difficult to defend. We have seen groups performing garba in restaurants and airport terminals, people playing videos on mobile phones at full volume, passengers arguing over overhead baggage space, travellers jumping queues, and public spaces being treated as extensions of private living rooms. During the World Economic Forum in Davos, I witnessed an Indian businessman arrange for Punjabi music to be blasted so loudly that much of the town could hear it. He proudly described it as his contribution to India’s soft power. I could not disagree more.
To be fair, these incidents involve only a small minority of Indians. The overwhelming majority travel with grace, dignity and consideration. Unfortunately, reputations are rarely shaped by the silent majority. They are shaped by the visible minority. A handful of inconsiderate travellers can leave a lasting impression on thousands of people who may never visit India but will form opinions about Indians based on what they observe abroad.
Part of the problem lies in our environment. India is vibrant, energetic, colourful and wonderfully chaotic. We live amidst noise and activity. We are accustomed to sharing space in ways that many other societies are not. At home, conversations spill into public spaces, celebrations overflow onto streets, and personal and public boundaries often merge seamlessly. What feels perfectly normal in Mumbai, Delhi or Kolkata can feel intrusive in Zurich, Copenhagen or Kyoto. Many of us simply carry our habits with us without realising that different societies operate according to different norms.
There is also a newly discovered confidence that accompanies India’s rise. We have every reason to be proud. Indian professionals lead global corporations. Our economy is one of the fastest growing in the world. Indian entrepreneurs, scientists, artists and sportsmen are making their mark internationally. Yet somewhere along the way, some of us seem to have confused confidence with entitlement. We have begun to believe that being loud signals importance and that attracting attention is somehow a demonstration of national pride.
Whenever I travel to Japan, I am struck by the extraordinary courtesy of ordinary people. Schoolchildren clean their classrooms. Citizens leave public spaces exactly as they found them. Trains carrying millions of passengers operate with remarkable discipline and consideration. Japan’s soft power comes from the everyday behaviour of its people. The world admires Japan because the Japanese have understood that national reputation is built by citizens going about their daily lives.
The same principle applies to India. Every Indian travelling abroad becomes, whether they realise it or not, an ambassador for the country. Long before people encounter our diplomats, our businesses or our economic achievements, they encounter us in hotel lobbies, airport queues, restaurants and breakfast buffets. Their perception of India is shaped by those interactions. As India’s influence continues to grow, the responsibility on each of us grows as well.
This is where those of us in our sixties, seventies and beyond carry a particular weight, and a particular opportunity. We grew up in an India that placed enormous value on dignity, restraint and good manners. We were taught that how you conducted yourself in someone else’s home said everything about who you were. Travelling abroad is no different. We are guests in another country’s home. Our generation has also, in many ways, set the template for how Indians travel- the children and grandchildren watching us are learning from what we do, not merely what we say. If we model patience in boarding a plane, consideration at a queue in a buffet at an international restaurant, and respect for silence in a hotel lobby, we pass on something far more valuable than a packed itinerary or a camera roll full of photographs.
India’s next great leap will be measured by the grace with which we occupy the world’s shared spaces. We built this country with discipline and dignity. Let us carry both with us when we leave its shores. The finest souvenir we can bring home is a reputation well earned.