Please stop staring!

"Why are you taking away our jobs? You are breaking our rice bowls." Those were the silent cries of the staff in the office. Yet nothing could stop the fact that our jobs were being outsourced to India. In this era of globalisation, jobs are slowly but surely shifting from the developed countries to the less developed. Even for a developing nation like Malaysia, we lose out in the wage arbitrage against a country like India.

This has been one of the most painful years in my career. When the news broke out, I was lost for words. People look to me as a local manager to defend their cause to the expatriate bosses. As I stood in front of the staff, it was unbearable to see the tears, the fears, the unspoken anxiety and the extreme disappointment on their faces. Even the men were close to tears. I still remember that day when I had to be the reluctant hero.

In due time, the Indians came. Before their arrival, we were preparing for the worst. We joked about the way they would speak and behave, perhaps even how to endure their body odour. We distrust their skills and qualifications right from the start. "Could they do our jobs better? It is not possible!" I shrink every time people around me start all these banter. Most times I remained silent. On the surface, it was fun to let go of the frustration and the disappointment with the outsourcing exercise. But at the bottom of it all, we are just prejudiced and downright biased.

Honestly I cannot imagine myself in the shoes of those who were sent from India to do our work. I now know that they have been given training on how to deal with antagonism and hostile behaviour from the client. It is no wonder that these Indian men did not retaliate when trainers raised their voices in impatience and annoyance, when they were being reprimanded for silly errors and mistakes, when they were being spoken to in a condescending manner. We laughed at how senior accounting roles were being matched to people with a lower level of experience. We complained loudly at their lack of basic accounting concepts and at the slow pace that they work. These people did not choose their roles; rather they have been assigned those roles by their management. These people are just ordinary people trying to make a living. Not only did they have to dodge bullets because of their skill inadequacies but also on their cultural behaviours. They get laughed at for every little thing; from their English accent, to their constant shaking of heads and to drinking water from a water jug instead of from a cup or a glass.

In due time, we Malaysians went to India. I was part of that contingent to Bangalore. The first couple of days for me were filled with incessant headaches just commuting from the hotel to the office and back. Every man, woman, child, cow, dog, car, lorry, motorcycle, bicycle and rickshaw is on the road, struggling to get somewhere! The traffic is horrendous coupled with the unending honking from every corner. In a city with 7 milion population, I can accept the fact that it will be super congested but how does one deal with the sight of rubbish at nearly every corner! How can one live in such an undignified state? Pity is an inadequate word to describe the poverty level in India.

Again and again we laugh and stare. We laughed at how people drive on the streets, as if there were no laws. We laughed at how more than 10 people can fit into a little 'auto' rickshaw. We stared at the sight of cows having to scavenge for food in the rubbish dump. We stared in disbelief when people stop to open the bags of rubbish for the cows. We stared when men urinate at the road side. We stared at kids roaming free on the streets without shoes. We stared at women scrubbing and beating dry their laundry by the roadside.

We stared at them and so did they. I remember a young teenage girl who stood just about 2 feet away from me while I was queuing to see the Taj Mahal. She looked at me point blank without blinking. I seemed to her an alien from another world who had no right to be there in her country. I am fair with yellow skin, not dark skin. I have short hair whereas all girls in India wear their hair long. I stood out in the masses; I am a foreigner. If there is such a thing as private space, she invaded mine by her stare. Later, I realised that such stares were not uncommon for foreigners.

Their stares may be harmless but they shout into my head telling me that I am a foreigner and I have no right to judge them. This is their country. This is their way of live. Many come from a lower strata of society, with lower education levels, without proper hygiene and necessities. They did not choose to be in such positions. If we laugh at the poverty and chaos, we are in no way more civilised than they are. It reveals us for who we are. We have to search our hearts and realise that we are no different. How am I more civilised? I am civilised if only I would exercise patience and professionalism when dealing with the Indians who came to train with us, render them the assistance that they need, respect the cultural differences and accept them as fellow colleagues. I am civilised if only I have compassion, kindness and love. If I have none, I am nothing. For me, India is unforgettable. It changed my worldview and it changed my heart.