India’s real problem isn’t infrastructure. It’s civic sense

Garba music blasting on portable speakers at the Burj Khalifa. Children screaming on flights and kicking the seat ahead of them, with their parents blissfully unaware. Food crumbs littered all over plane floors and restaurant tables. Large groups of belligerent, pot-bellied people arguing over prices and services at establishments that don’t offer discounts.

This is increasingly becoming the face of the Indian traveler abroad, one that makes us ashamed to be identified as Indians. But we should just leave them alone; they are just having fun, not harming anyone…

Recently, at a performance of Mughal-e-Azam at NMACC, Nita Ambani’s stylish and swanky mecca for the arts, well-heeled audience members removed their shoes and placed their feet on the seats in front of them, inches away from another person’s head. Tiffin boxes were opened, and the smell of food permeated the air. Food was passed around. Plastic bags crackled throughout the show. Conversations continued at full volume on cellphones at maximum brightness while Anarkali poured out her heart and soul. Mind you, these were seats priced at a premium, and the show was ruined for many. But chalta hai, right?

Travel to Uttarakhand and the story gets worse. The hills once known as Dev Bhoomi are now littered with broken beer bottles, food packaging, disposable plates, diapers, and sanitary waste. Quaint eateries cling precariously to steep mountain slopes, serving steaming Maggi, while colorful streams of garbage flow downhill beside them. You will be surprised at the contents—plastic wrappers, fabric scraps, filthy diapers, and even lone discarded slippers—all have a home in the refuse rivers of the hills of India. But it doesn’t exist if you can’t see it, right?

Visit a multiplex. People spend ₹800 on popcorn but leave the floor covered with spilled food and tissues. Bins are visible front and center, but using them appears optional. Bang in the middle of the climax scene comes the phone call. Instead of stepping outside, many feel entitled to conduct an entire conversation in the middle of a movie. Work updates. Delivery OTPs. Family discussions. WhatsApp chats on full brightness—we are privileged to see and hear it all. But it’s only for a few minutes, right?

In gated communities, residents drive luxury cars and spend thousands each month on maintenance. Some even have air-conditioned rooms for their expensive purebred pets. Yet many refuse to take those pets outside for walks, or scoop the poop, allowing them to relieve themselves in parking basements and common areas instead. Clearly, wealth offers no guarantee of responsibility.

This is not a class issue. The poor may lack infrastructure and awareness. The middle class looks away. The wealthy know better but frequently treat public spaces as someone else’s problem. “Sab chalta hai”.

India’s litter crisis is not caused by a lack of awareness. We have campaigns, advertisements, school lessons, and social media messages. We know what is right. It’s as simple as a lack of consequences.

That is why appeals for better behaviour will achieve little; in fact, they will be countered with aggression and machismo. Change will come only when littering, public nuisance, and civic violations carry real penalties that are consistently enforced.

Perhaps it is time for dedicated civic enforcement officers. In a country with so many unemployed “cockroaches,” why not employ them for the betterment of our environment? Hire people whose job is to monitor public spaces, issue fines, and ensure accountability.

Enough is enough. Ye sab NAHI CHALTA HAI.