When behaviour crosses the line

We were in Berlin during the last leg of our vacation in Europe with friends, and boarded a train to Frankfurt for our return flight. A group of young men were already in the coach, and to describe them as merely boisterous would be an understatement. They carried enough bottles of beer to last the journey, and their voices travelled easily across the entire coach.

We requested the conductor for a change of seats. He empathised, but could do little beyond politely asking them to lower their volume. Fortunately for us, the group got down after a couple of hours, leaving behind spilled beer, tissues, and a collective sense of relief among the passengers. They were football players and their supporters, carried away by the euphoria of the moment, but indifferent to the discomfort they caused.

The previous evening, we had dined at an upscale restaurant in Germany, where another group of young men and women were celebrating a birthday with equal exuberance. The laughter was loud and the celebration unrestrained, and the rest of the diners watched with a mix of indulgence and annoyance. It was only when the waiter quietly intervened that the group moderated itself.

These were, after all, Europeans-often perceived, and not infrequently by themselves, as more disciplined and better behaved than the rest of us from what is loosely termed the developing world. We, too, are quick to accept that hierarchy, and even quicker to criticise our own people for similar behaviour.

And yet, the truth is less flattering and far more universal, for the line between restraint and excess is not defined by geography.

I was reminded of a lunch with old friends at a club in Delhi. We had begun our careers together over four decades ago and were meeting again after many years. Seated at the centre of the dining hall, we were no less animated and no less loud, despite having crossed the age of sixty. It took a gentle but firm message from older diners for us to recognise that we, too, had crossed a line.

There is, therefore, a thin and often invisible boundary between celebration and disregard, between expression and imposition.

However, what we witnessed in the train coach was something more than mere exuberance. It was not just noise; it carried with it a certain assertion-the confidence that comes from being part of a group, the ease with which individual restraint dissolves into collective excess.

We have seen this more starkly across the globe, and in our own country. There have been instances where individuals, backed by political power or sheer numbers, have occupied spaces not meant for them and responded with aggression when questioned. The authority of position, or the anonymity of the crowd, often emboldens behaviour that would otherwise be unthinkable.

It is in such moments that the issue ceases to be one of manners and becomes one of responsibility. Perhaps the question, then, is not about where such behaviour occurs, or whether it belongs to the so-called developed or developing world, but about how easily we slip into it ourselves. The distinction we often draw between societies begins to blur in such moments, revealing that civility is not a function of geography or economic status, but of individual restraint. If there is to be any meaningful change, it will not come from comparing cultures, but from recognising that the discipline we expect in public spaces must first be practised within.

The writer is founder of Kala - Krazy About Literature And Arts, is an author, speaker, coach, arbitrator, and strategy consultant; Views presented are personal.