There are moments in life when history, geography and blood pressure converge at one small counter. One such moment happened today for me, at the Mumbai airport. I had just finished a 15 hour flight from New York, and had expected a sour looking officer at immigration. The immigration officer stamped my passport, looked up, smiled broadly and said two words that deserve a commemorative plaque. ‘Welcome back.’
I nearly checked behind me to see who he was talking to. Surely not me. In India we are trained to expect efficiency, silence and the occasional grunt at such counters. Words are optional. Smiles are rare wildlife. A welcome is usually assumed, like the warranty on government furniture.
The last time I entered India, emboldened by patriotism and jet lag, I had asked the officer at the counter, “Can’t you say welcome instead of grunting?” He looked at me the way immigration officers reserve for people who might require extra forms.
So when it happened today, it felt personal. Intimate even. A welcome back. Not welcome. Not next. Not move along. Welcome back. As though the nation had noticed my absence and approved my return.
It does something to you. Your shoulders straighten. Your internal anthem plays softly. You feel less like a file being processed and more like a human being being acknowledged. Belonging arrives not through flags or speeches but through a smile and two syllables spoken sincerely.
We have inherited many things from our colonial past. Railways. Legal systems. And a magnificent ability to look stern while doing ordinary jobs. Standing stiffly like sentinels in police stations and security posts became our way of proving seriousness.
As though friendliness might compromise national security.
As though courtesy is a luxury item that must be rationed.
The irony is that we are among the warmest people in private spaces. Invite someone home and they will be fed until they beg for mercy. But step into an office and suddenly warmth is considered unprofessional. Authority must frown. Stamps must thud. Greetings must be withheld.
But change sneaks in quietly. It does not arrive with circulars. It arrives with a grin. One officer. One moment. One welcome. And suddenly the system feels less like a machine and more like a country.
Welcome back also carries philosophy. It suggests that your return matters. That you were not just permitted entry but invited into belonging. It is a small word with a large emotional footprint.
Perhaps it is time we used it more often. In offices when colleagues return from leave. In churches when someone walks in after years. In families when someone comes home without explanations.
Welcome back says we remember you.
We are glad you are here.
Today a man with a stamp and a smile reminded me why words matter. Thank you my dear country. A big thank you to that smiling officer for making me feel I’d received a bouquet of flowers..!
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