Clarity Potion

Interesting topic came up between my colleague and me the other day. He asked me why would someone pay such a premium for imported cars - especially the Swedish and German brands. A multitude of thoughts crowded my brain all of a sudden, and the deluge poured forth - part anger, part frustration and for pure clarity.

Most Europeans have the duty-of-care aspect inbuilt in their regular functioning. They will hold doors open, wait for someone faster to cross first, or simply, take care to do their job to as perfect an extent as possible. In simple words, attention to detail - what we Indians seem to lack big time.

As I have noticed, Indians need to be paid to pay attention. A supervisor is only required because the workers, apart from lazing and slacking off, won't bother one bit to maintain any sort of standard - forget consistency. This is why "phoren maal" is always preferred. The "chalta hai" attitude is exactly what is holding us back. People argue over the points that we are not a "backward country" but a "developing nation".

There is a difference between the two terms, the latter meaning those who have seen the light, and are on their way of change for the better.

He said, "Ok, let's suppose Tata makes a "premium car" with the exact features as a Volvo S80. Wouldn't it cost less than half as much?"

I said, "Sure it would. And after all I've said about quality and consistency and attention to detail, this is what would happen in the event of an accident -

in a Volvo, I would be sure that the car would drop it's speed drastically upon detecting the oncoming idiot, the safety belt pretensioners would kick in and hug me gently, but tightly into the soft leather seat; the supplemental restraint airbag system would activate in it's dual stages and prevent any sort of major injury whatsoever. I would walk out unscathed, but slightly shaken.

in a Tata, I would brake in panic after realising there's an idiot headed the wrong way. The wheels would lock and the car would skid, devoid of all traction from those pathetic tyres. The impact would not activate the crumple zones, but rather, send the front bumper through the radiator, and consequentially through the dashboard, impaling me, and puncturing my liver. While all of this is happening, the seat belt would violently hold me in place by my neck, nearly decapitating me, or at best, leave me with a deep cut wound on my neck. Suddenly, the cigarette lighter flies out and takes out my eye.

There is the difference: Case one - the car saves me. Case two - the car kills me.

End of discussion, followed by painful laughter as the truth.