Clichés about what it means to be an Indian continue to sprout across the world like mushrooms in dark places. It sometimes feels that this has always been the case, was even centuries before The Beatles turned to our shores for dubious advice. For years now, we have revelled in our non-existent sense of superiority about how we approach life. We promote meditation, vegetarianism, a healthy respect for life, and swamis in white robes, who can supposedly share secrets of the universe to anyone who pays them well.

I'm sick of it though. I don't buy the narrative, wholeheartedly reject the sustained PR campaigns, and am willing to go out on a limb to declare that Indians are possibly the least peaceful human beings on earth. It's obvious, at every corner of every single street, that we have an anger management problem. It manifests itself in the horns we uncaringly blare outside schools and hospitals, the shoving that comes naturally even when there aren't that many people to push through, the high decibels at which we shove our religious beliefs down the throats of those around us, and the cuss words and threats we distribute like confetti.