Chalta hai, Ho Jaega, Dekh Lenge

What bothered me the most during my four-month stay in India? It was definitely the timeless laid-back “chalta hai” attitude, but that was just the beginning. There was also “Dekh Lenge,” “Ho Jaega,” “Two Minutes,” and other gems of procrastination. Having learned my lesson on punctuality in the US, where missing a train once taught me a hard lesson, and encountering the direct approach of Americans regularly, punctuality and straightforwardness became second nature to me. Adjusting to people’s more relaxed approach in India posed quite a challenge during my stay.

I remember sitting in a Chartered Accountant’s office discussing my tax return filing. As we wrapped up, I asked about the fee.

“Arey koi baat nahi, fees ka baad mai dekh lenge,” the CA casually replied.

Now, this “Dekh Lenge” business never made sense to me. It’s like saying, “We’ll figure it out later,” essentially suggesting, “Let’s leave room for a future argument.” Maybe it stems from a desire to be polite or avoiding an uncomfortable discussion upfront, or even a fear that the client might walk away if the price seems too steep. But regardless of the reason, why invite chaos and bitterness into a professional relationship, or even a personal one, for that matter? I’ve witnessed the aftermath firsthand—dramatic showdowns and heated debates just to agree on a price tag, all because we didn’t settle it upfront.

Imagine a wedding planner casually telling a bride, “The cake? Dekh Lenge.” Next thing you know, you’ve got a bridezilla wielding a cake knife. It’s the kind of attitude that escalates minor inconveniences into full-blown crises.

And then there’s “Two Minutes.” In the Indian context, it’s as fluid as a yoga pose. It’s the most elusive time frame since the dawn of time. It’s like Schrödinger’s Time—simultaneously infinite and instantaneous. You could brew a cup of chai, solve a Rubik’s Cube, or grow a beard waiting for those “2 minutes” to tick by. It’s a promise shrouded in uncertainty that can lead to endless waiting and frustration.

This cultural quirk can be both amusing and maddening. For me, it’s a bit of both. While we may eventually adapt to it, a little upfront clarity wouldn’t hurt. After all, someone’s plans might hinge on your commitments. Why keep things in limbo and ambiguity when being direct and clear is often the best approach?

And last but not least, there’s the dreaded “Aur Batao…” phrase holding you hostage on the phone, urging you to prolong the conversation even when it’s run its course and you have nothing meaningful left to contribute. While I was accustomed to the American approach of being direct and concise, saying “Alright, I’ll let you go…” or “I’ll catch up with you later…,” I found myself trapped in the obligation to fabricate small talk to satisfy the persistent “Aur Batao” insistence.

Reflecting on my time in India, I’ve come to appreciate these cultural differences, even if they did test my patience at times. It’s all part of the charm and complexity of living in a diverse world. And hey, at least it makes for some entertaining stories to share back home!