Written by: The Unpopular Indian
Indians are everywhere now—from Ivy League universities to tech parks in Toronto, from suburban streets in Melbourne to hospital wards in London. Our diaspora is among the world’s largest, well educated, and increasingly affluent. We are known for our hard work, ability to deliver and never say die attitude. Our willingness to do whatever it takes to get ahead, has been identified as a distinguishing characteristic of our work ethic thanks to acute deprivation of resources while growing up.
But along with our defining characteristics and numbers has come a rising tide of criticism. Not just the usual anti-immigrant noise, but a growing wave of frustration, resentment, and now open stereotyping—specifically targeted at Indians.
And while racism is real and inexcusable, we must also be honest with ourselves: many of us have handed our critics the ammunition.
Spend even five minutes browsing social media in the West or listening to the public discourse around immigration, and you’ll see the shift in tone. Indians are now openly mocked as “job stealers,” accused of taking over tech, medicine, and finance. We are called “curry stinkers,” “smelly,” and even “sub-human.” The stereotype is that we don’t bathe, we overcrowd neighbourhoods, live ten to a flat, drive luxury cars we can’t afford, and ruin the places we move to – culturally and professionally.
These are disgusting, lazy, racist caricatures. And yet, the most painful part is this: they are now being reinforced by the irresponsible behaviour of some among us—and applied to all of us. And as always, the disciplined and silent pay the price.
When Indian students overstay their visas, cheat immigration systems, and lie to authorities, we are all branded as scammers. When groups block public roads with illegal religious processions, blare devotional songs through the night, and leave neighbourhoods full of litter, we are all labelled as nuisance makers. When professionals isolate themselves into linguistic or regional cliques, ignore the local culture, and show off wealth while disregarding civic etiquette, we are all seen as arrogant and entitled. When senior hiring managers only target fellow Indians in hiring, we are all labelled as tribal and ethnically obtuse, willing to only support the less qualified from their own community over the well qualified and competent.
This is the bitter truth. The sins of a few are being weaponized against the many. In an age where perception moves faster than facts thanks to social media, it doesn’t take much for isolated incidents to become national or even global reputations. We now dance garba at airports, eat traditional Indian food on newspapers at airport gates and we do much more than this and post it on social media with pride, expressing our bravado on how we have managed to such things despite rules and regulations. But there are unwritten rules and codes of conduct that determines our perception in the world; guidelines that are not articulated or expressed, yet determining the fates of many.
This makes it even more important for every Indian abroad—student, professional, or entrepreneur—to remember: the world is watching. And your behaviour is being recorded, judged, and multiplied in ways you may not even realize.
There is a contradiction at the heart of much of our migration story, and we must face it and introspect before this becomes an accepted self-evident truth.
Many leave India because they seek a better life. They want cleaner cities, safer streets, better governance, functional infrastructure, and greater dignity. That’s perfectly valid. But if you leave India for a better system, then it is your responsibility to uphold that system—not to bring it down to the level of dysfunction you supposedly fled from, because it demeans the graciousness of the host country.
What sense does it make to move to a country known for civic order, only to dump garbage in rivers during religious festivals, play loud music at odd hours, break traffic rules, and try to recreate the very chaos you were\ trying to escape?
It’s like moving into a clean, peaceful home—and then trashing it because that’s what you’re used to. This brings us to the heart of the issue, the real virus we’ve been exporting—the chalta hai mindset. It’s the belief that cutting corners is acceptable, that the rules are flexible, and that consequences are negotiable. Let us refer to the recent viral video of the lady who was caught for theft at an American store which painted the entire community with one single stroke – as thieves and scammers. It manifests in every corner of our public life in India. And unfortunately, we take it with us wherever we go.
Didn’t get a permit for a festival? Chalta hai. Worked 30 hours when the visa allows only 20? Chalta hai.
Littered in public during a religious celebration? Chalta hai. idn’t pay taxes or used someone else’s ID to get by? Chalta hai.
Didn’t learn the local language in five years of living abroad? Chalta hai. In India, this attitude has kept our systems broken for decades, it has literally kept us from rising as a civilisation and abandoned the promise of a great nation that was sold to the youth immediately after we won our hard fought freedom in 1947. Abroad, it doesn’t make us street-smart—it makes us liabilities. Staying abroad, with a work or student visa is a privilege, not a right, and out of 1.6 billion people, a few of us get to do this, so doing it right is more important than doing it the same way you have been doing it all your life. Abandon the chalta hai mindset here for the betterment of India and before you board your flight.
And let’s flip the mirror for a moment. Would we tolerate this behavior in our own country?
If a group of foreign tourists marched through Varanasi without a permit, blaring loud music, disrupting traffic, and dumping trash into the Ganges, how would we respond? We’d be outraged. We’d expect them to respect our culture, our cities, our laws.
So why don’t we offer the same respect to the countries that host us and give us oppportunities? Yes, locals misbehave too. But they’re locals. As migrants, we are guests—and guests are expected to behave better, not worse. Guests are expected to integrate, not impose. To contribute, not complicate. To preserve order, not disrupt it.
You cannot isolate yourself into linguistic or cultural ghettos, refuse to learn the local norms, and then complain that you’re not accepted. You cannot bring casteism, sexism, and pollution abroad and expect people to welcome it as “Indian culture.” You cannot build temples and religious centres abroad while openly violating civic discipline and assume people won’t push back, it has to be done under the ambit of the law and with utmost civility and cultural sensitivity.
And let’s be clear: yes, racism must be condemned. But we also need to understand that much of the resentment we face abroad isn’t just random irrational bigotry—it’s a now a sharp reaction to behaviour. It’s the result of patterns. It’s the backlash to our own negligence, arrogance, and insensitivity.
India is not a helpless country. We are not beggars at the global table. We are a rising nation, and our people are visible in every major global industry. But with that visibility comes responsibility. Being Indian abroad isn’t just a passport or a job title—it’s an identity. And every Indian abroad is, whether they like it or not, an ambassador. You carry the image of a billion plus people with you. Your actions speak louder than your passport. You are not just one person—you are a walking impression of India.
If you want the world to see India as modern, capable, and respectful, then that’s exactly how you must behave. So here’s the truth: if you can’t integrate, don’t migrate. If you can’t follow rules, don’t apply. If you can’t behave better than the locals, don’t expect to be welcomed like one.
We are not entitled to respect just because we’re Indian. We must earn it and we must uphold it. Because if we don’t represent the best of India abroad, we will be judged—and punished—based on the worst of us instead. And the price for that misjudgement—is lost opportunities, lost dignity, and rising hate—and that price will be paid by all of us.
Let us demand higher standards, from ourselves and completely eviscerate chalta hai from our collective consciousness.
