Hemashri explores the vital need for courtesy and systemic educational reform, reflecting on personal growth and dignity on DifferentTruths.com.

My daughter recently called out a bad habit of mine: “Maa, tumi manuhor logot kotha pati thakute mobile tu pirik parak saay thaka.” (Maa, you keep glancing at your mobile even when someone is talking to you. It’s very odd and bad manners.)

I asked her to elaborate, promising to improve. She explained she’d noticed it more lately—perhaps because she lives alone and has fallen into a kind of mobile addiction. 

I observed myself and realised she was right, at least to some extent.

This feedback sparked deep reflection. Yes, I monitor official WhatsApp groups, but I don’t scroll constantly.

It reminded me of a visit from an officer who retired in 2011. Still in good health, he shared a story about an official matter, then lamented the behaviour of a lady officer in a subdivision in middle Assam. When he entered her room, she was glued to her phone and dismissively gestured for him to speak with her subordinate. Even after staff noted he was a senior officer who had served in that district, she ignored him.

He felt deeply humiliated—his eyes moistened as he recounted it, and I felt ashamed.

Courtesy costs nothing.

From day one, in my civil service career, I vowed to treat everyone with courtesy as a humble public servant. My first boss taught me this the hard way: when I reported for duty, he did not allow me to sit. I felt humiliated, as till that moment, I was under the impression that it was a basic courtesy. I’ve endured that slight many times since. With age and experience, I’ve grown more mature and maybe patient, adjusting my strategy along the way.

What fuels this mobile habit? The relentless pull of WhatsApp groups with crucial instructions. Still, I’m committed to minding my manners and mending my ways.

Now, I consciously avoid glancing at my phone when someone is speaking. Thanks, dear daughter. I’m grateful to my parents, who treated everyone with dignity and raised me to see all humans as equals. As a mother, I’ve learned we achieve nothing by violating basic human respect—even a child craves it.

A recent official exposure visit drove this home: countries that instil respect in children—regardless of rank or caste—build thriving work cultures, civic sense, and team spirit. This spirit is reflected in their neat, clean workplaces and public spaces. Labour laws are stringent, and respect toward everyone is unconditional. 

This appears to be the basic tenet that motivates each citizen to take great pride in their profession and perform it with utmost sincerity. This is grossly missing in our culture, which breeds arrogance, vindictiveness, and toxicity, which are insurmountable barriers to creating a sensitised atmosphere, and it affects workplace motivation, impacting performance and productivity.

Politeness, respect for others’ time and dignity, faith in God, and empathy for fellow humans are essential qualities we must instil in children from an early age—at home and in school—rather than prioritising rote learning in a foreign language.

My heart swelled with pride riding across the new bridge connecting North Guwahati and the riverbank park—Assam’s first mega-infrastructure project of its kind. Yet I’m disgusted by videos of people littering it within hours of opening.

Is this an education deficit, robbing us of pride in our assets and responsible citizenship?

As a lifelong learner, I’m delighted to discover that highly developed countries prioritise elementary education, moulding impressionable children with respect, empathy, life skills, and love for nature. These kids grow into well-behaved, law-abiding citizens.

India’s modern education system, designed by colonial rulers, has long awaited fundamental reform. It is now time for all stakeholders to create a broad policy framework that accords high priority to the most crucial formative years, i.e., elementary education, if we are committed to producing fine citizens of tomorrow.

Years ago, I saw a framed quote in the office of a senior officer I admired for his polished manners and patient empathy. He never shouted—everyone respected him and worked sincerely.

The quote, etched in my mind:

“हम उसी ईश्वर की सेवा करते हैं जिसे लोग मानव कहते हैं।” (We serve that God whom people call ‘human’).

May we all remember: how we treat people—and our public spaces—reflects our deepest values as citizens and humans

Democracy cannot guarantee civility, but is civility not the foundation of civilisation?

If we aspire to be a progressive, developed country, should we not seriously imbibe the best practices from other parts of the world? Maybe it’s time to reflect.

Retirement or superannuation does not diminish a person’s value. The harsh reality is that many maintain contacts primarily for favours or influence, leaving retirees feeling insignificant upon losing those ties. Yet, our seniors remain valuable human assets, capable of offering insightful policy input.

Dignity for All should be everyone’s commitment and concern.

Seniors deserve respect from everyone—as do women, and indeed every individual.

So, let’s mind our manners and mend our ways.

I am at work.

Picture design by Anumita Roy

Hemashri Hazarika

Hemashri Hazarika is an Officer of the Assam Civil Service since 1997. Her research on Assam Civil Service brought reforms in 2015. A first-class Postgraduate in Economics from Gauhati University, she was awarded JRF/NET by UGC in 1997. Her experience as a bureaucrat has sensitised her to human sufferings. A solutionist by passion, she takes an active interest in issues related to Governance, Development, Women, Children, etc. Reading, Writing, Speaking and Painting are her hobbies.