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By:

Naresh Kamath

5 November 2024 at 5:30:38 am

Indian Tourists Need a Reputation Reset

India has long taken pride in the philosophy of ‘Atithi Devo Bhava’ - the belief that guests deserve warmth, respect and dignity. It is an idea deeply woven into the country’s cultural imagination, often been projected as a defining Indian value. As millions of Indians travel overseas every year, the conduct of a small but highly visible section of Indian tourists is increasingly shaping how India itself is perceived abroad. The issue is not about a single incident or a handful of viral...

Indian Tourists Need a Reputation Reset

India has long taken pride in the philosophy of ‘Atithi Devo Bhava’ - the belief that guests deserve warmth, respect and dignity. It is an idea deeply woven into the country’s cultural imagination, often been projected as a defining Indian value. As millions of Indians travel overseas every year, the conduct of a small but highly visible section of Indian tourists is increasingly shaping how India itself is perceived abroad. The issue is not about a single incident or a handful of viral videos but a pattern that is drawing notice from hotels, tourism operators and local authorities across the world. The debate gained fresh momentum after reports emerged of a Swiss hotel issuing a notice specifically addressed to Indian guests. The advisory reportedly requested guests not to pack food from breakfast buffets for later consumption and reminded them to maintain silence in corridors and balconies. Hotels routinely issue guidelines. But when a particular nationality becomes the subject of a specific advisory, it inevitably raises larger questions about perception. “It is a sorry state of affairs. Indians, especially in groups, are displaying atrocious behaviour. This was anyway bound to happen,” says Subhash Motwani, founder of Namaste Tourism. Embarrassing Incidents Whether the notice was justified is another separate matter. The question is why such perceptions are emerging in the first place. Recent months have seen several incidents involving Indian tourists gain traction on social media. One widely circulated video showed travellers performing garba on an airport tarmac in Vietnam. Garba is among India’s most vibrant cultural traditions and a source of immense pride for millions. Yet airports are highly regulated spaces where safety protocols and discipline take precedence over celebration. The incident became symbolic of a larger problem. The rise of social media has encouraged some travellers to treat foreign destinations as stages for content creation. Public dancing, loud celebrations, disruptive behaviour and attention-seeking stunts may generate views and engagement online, but they can also leave lasting impressions on locals and fellow tourists. India is hardly the first country to confront such a challenge. During the 1950s and 1960s, American tourists acquired a reputation for arrogance abroad, giving rise to the phrase “Ugly American.” Britain spent decades dealing with the international embarrassment caused by football hooliganism. China faced similar concerns as outbound tourism surged during the early years of the twenty-first century. A nation’s image is shaped not just by its economic achievements and diplomatic influence but also by the behaviour of its citizens overseas. India today finds itself in a similar situation. Indian tourists are now among the most visible traveller groups across Europe, Southeast Asia and the Middle East. This is, in many ways, a remarkable success story. However, with visibility comes responsibility. Hospitality professionals across destinations frequently point to recurring concerns. Excessive noise, queue-jumping, disregard for local regulations, overcrowding hotel rooms and attempts to bypass established rules through jugaad are among the complaints often cited. Collectively, repeated experiences can create lasting perceptions. The most revealing aspect of the debate is that Indian travellers often display exemplary discipline in countries known for strict law enforcement. In destinations such as Singapore, the UAE, Qatar and Saudi Arabia, compliance with rules is generally high. Complaints tend to emerge more frequently in places perceived as relaxed or lenient. That suggests the challenge is not one of awareness. Most travellers understand the rules perfectly well. The problem is often a mindset that rules can be negotiated when consequences appear unlikely. Changing that mindset is far more important than introducing additional regulations or issuing fresh advisories. Every interaction at an airport, hotel, restaurant, tourist attraction or public transport system contributes to how a country is viewed. These everyday encounters often shape perceptions more powerfully than government campaigns or tourism advertisements. As India stakes its claim to a larger role in the world, its citizens must recognise that national prestige is shaped not only by economic achievements and diplomatic successes, but also by everyday behaviour abroad. The overwhelming majority of Indian tourists travel responsibly and leave behind positive impressions. Their conduct rarely becomes news because courtesy seldom goes viral. Yet a handful of highly visible incidents can overshadow thousands of positive experiences. The challenge is to encourage responsible travel and a greater awareness that behaviour abroad carries consequences beyond the individual. The conduct of Indian citizens overseas should reflect the confidence and values of a nation seeking not merely recognition but enduring respect. (The writer is a senior journalist based in Mumbai. Views personal.)

The Soul of Bharat on the Big Screen

Mumbai: April 4, 2025, my heart feels heavier than it ever has. The news hit me like a monsoon storm—Manoj Kumar, the towering legend of Bollywood, the man who painted patriotism across our screens, is no more. At 87, he slipped away at Mumbai’s Kokilaben Dhirubhai Ambani Hospital, leaving behind a reel of memories that flicker in my mind like a projector that won’t stop spinning. As a movie fan who grew up with his films, I’m not just mourning an actor—I’m grieving the loss of a piece of my soul, a piece of India itself. They called him "Bharat Kumar," and oh, how he earned that name.


I remember the first time I saw ‘Upkar’ (1967). I was a kid, sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to our old TV. Manoj ji played Bharat, the farmer who gave everything—his dreams, his love—for his country’s soil. That song, “Mere Desh Ki Dharti,” wasn’t just a tune; it was a heartbeat, pulsing with pride and sacrifice. I’d hum it walking to school, feeling like I, too, could be that noble, that selfless. He won a National Film Award for that one, and rightly so—it wasn’t acting; it was living.

Then there was ‘Shaheed’ (1965), where he brought Bhagat Singh back to life. I’d sit there, popcorn forgotten, as he roared defiance against the British, his eyes blazing with a fire that could’ve lit up the darkest colonial night. It wasn’t just a film—it was a revolution on celluloid, a call to remember the blood that bought our freedom. Manoj ji didn’t just play the martyr; he became him, and every time I watch it, I feel that lump in my throat, that sting in my eyes. It’s no wonder it snagged three National Awards—his passion was a gift to us all.


Oh, and ‘Purab Aur Paschim’ (1970)—how do I even begin? He directed and starred as Bharat again, this time wrestling with the clash of East and West, showing us the beauty of our roots while the world tried to pull us away. I’d laugh at Saira Banu’s antics, then choke up when Manoj ji stood tall, singing “Hai Preet Jahan Ki Reet Sada.” It was a blockbuster, sure, but it was more—it was a love letter to India, penned in his signature hand-over-face style. That move, mocked by some, was his shield, his quiet strength, and I adored it.

And who could forget ‘Roti Kapda Aur Makaan’ (1974)? He directed and starred as Bharat—again, because who else could?—tackling poverty, injustice, and the gut-wrenching struggle for the basics of life. I’d watch, fists clenched, as he fought for the everyman, his voice cracking with raw emotion. It wasn’t just a movie; it was a mirror to our society, a cry for change. Seven Filmfare Awards across his career, they say, but this one felt like it carried them all—his heart bled through every frame.


Then there’s ‘Kranti’ (1981), the epic that had me on the edge of my seat. Manoj ji as the freedom fighter, leading Dilip Kumar and Hema Malini through a storm of rebellion—it was grand, it was gritty, it was everything Bollywood could be. “Zindagi Ki Na Toote Ladi” still echoes in my ears, a reminder of the battles he fought on screen, battles that felt so real I’d dream of joining the fight. He didn’t just direct that film; he sculpted a monument to resilience, and I’d cheer like a fool every time he outsmarted the British.


As I sit here, flipping through these memories, I can’t help but feel cheated. Manoj Kumar wasn’t just an actor or director—he was family. Born Harikrishan Goswami in 1937, he carried the Partition’s scars from Abbottabad to Delhi, turning pain into purpose. He gave us over 50 films in a career spanning four decades, snagging the Padma Shri in 1992 and the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2015—honors that felt too small for a man who gave India its cinematic soul. His last role in ‘Jai Hind’ (1999) might’ve flopped, but it didn’t dim his light in my eyes.


I’d read how he met Bhagat Singh’s mother before ‘Shaheed’, seeking her blessing—can you imagine the weight of that? Or how PM Lal Bahadur Shastri urged him to make ‘Upkar’ after the 1965 war, handing him “Jai Jawan Jai Kisan” like a sacred torch? That’s who he was—a man who didn’t just entertain but carried a nation’s dreams.


Manoj ji, you weren’t just “Bharat Kumar” to me—you were the uncle who taught me pride, the friend who shared my anger, the poet who sang my hopes. Your films weren’t movies; they were my childhood, my rebellion, my tears. I’ll miss you like I miss the India you dreamed of—flawed, fierce, and forever ours. Rest in peace, sir. Om Shanti.

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