American Discretion

Does the economic wellbeing of a nation afford its grassroot level functionaries enough discretion? Well,I feel so.

In a recent American contest, the “indiscretion” as attributed to Mahatma Gandhi and Indian gods and goddesses (remember the “You Tube dance” and “Maxim bout” ! ) may have been in bad taste, but the amount of discretion that society gives to its grassroots -level functionaries is something that won our hearts during our sojourn in that country this summer.

We were then in Denver, the capital of Colorado. We set out to go for a city tour when at the ticket counter of a historical monument, we were asked to present our identification documents. We had forgotten to carry our passports and what I could flaunt to the woman on the counter was my I-card.

She recognised my photo and quipped, “An officer!” “Indian Police Service”, I said with pride. With a matching glint of appreciation, she said, “Welcome, sir, and bring the lady also in.” We did not have to buy tickets; instead the tour was all gratis with a guide in tow.

At an unaffordable town inhabited by rich and fashionable people, Aspen, also famous for being one of the world’s top destinations for skiing, the question as to whether a “Group of five concession” should be given to us or not arose again. We were four adults besides our one-year-old grand-daughter, Anaysa. She being the fifth member, we claimed the group concession. The woman on the cash counter, having a good look at Anaysa, wrapped in a pink snow-suit then, smiled and happily conceded the desired concession.

While going in a city bus to King Sooper, a grocery store, the driver of the bus played what turned out to be an innocuous prank on us. He was a Muslim from Mumbai, and his complexion being pinkish-white, we could not make out his Indian connection. I offered three one-dollar bills for being fed to the ticket machine when he said I needed to put “Thirty dollars, sir”.

I was shocked, for that was a fare demanded 10 times more than the actual. I held my hand back when he smiled again speaking in Hindustani, “Hota hai bhaijaan, yahan bason main bhi chalna padta hai!” And he allowed us a free return ride on our way back. Next day again we took the same route when on our return journey on the same tickets, the new driver said we needed to buy fresh ones. When we told him about the previous day’s journey undertaken on the same route, for the same duration and between the same stations, he allowed us his discretion.

At Glenwood Springs we reached Adventure Park through the cable cars at five in the evening. The charges being quite high, we were advised to preferably come the next day, for just an hour was left when the park would close. We wanted to visit the park, time being very short with us, notwithstanding. “Alright, in that case you can visit the park on the same tickets tomorrow as well in case you are able to find some time” offered the man on the counter.

Here again at Star Bucks, ordering Chai Latte for four “to go”, we enquired as to where could we find milk for the baby, since at quite a few places visited that evening we could not arrange milk for Anaysa. Lo and behold! The stewardess filled a take-away container with two glassfuls of milk and said, “You don’t need to go anywhere else. And don’t need to pay either!”

This Article has been published in The Tribune dated June 25,2007