The Indian diaspora in the United States has long been a story of success, hard work, and quiet assimilation. For decades, Indians have built reputations as educated, law-abiding and contributing members of American society. But that carefully nurtured image is being eroded by the behaviour of a small yet noisy group of recent arrivals who seem determined to transplant not culture but chaos. The latest incident — of newly relocated Indians bursting Diwali firecrackers outside residential complexes in American towns — has set off a storm of embarrassment and anger within the community. What was intended, perhaps, as celebration has instead been seen as a shocking disregard for civic sense and local law, turning a festival of light into a spectacle of thoughtlessness.
The reaction from long-settled Indians has been swift and sharp. Mohit Chauhan, who has lived in the United States for three decades and is a Texas resident for the past fifteen years, voiced his outrage on social media, calling out what he described as the “disrespectful” and “careless” conduct of some of his compatriots. His words resonated widely, for the frustration runs deep. Chauhan described how these new immigrants, in their attempt to recreate India abroad, have been flouting regulations and local norms with a kind of misplaced bravado—bursting firecrackers in housing colonies, immersing idols of deities such as Ganapati and Durga in rivers and ponds, eating with their hands in restaurants and trains, or breaking into noisy dances in public spaces like sports arenas. None of these actions, taken individually, might seem catastrophic. Yet together they present a troubling picture: that of people unwilling to adapt, unwilling to respect, and unwilling to understand that being Indian abroad requires both pride and restraint.
For Indians who have painstakingly built their lives and reputations in America, this behaviour feels like a betrayal. They recall how acceptance did not come easily. It was earned—through quiet conduct, cultural sensitivity, and professional diligence. For decades, the Indian presence in the United States has been synonymous with contribution: from medicine to technology, academia to entrepreneurship. But today, those same individuals report being looked at with suspicion or mockery, whispered about as “those people” because of the actions of a few who seem to have mistaken America for an extension of their neighbourhood back home. The discomfort is no longer private. Many Indians fear that the growing impatience of local residents could harden into something more—resentment, discrimination, or even policy prejudice. In a time when the United States is tightening its immigration and visa renewal norms, such irresponsible acts are more than embarrassing—they are dangerous. They risk triggering backlashes that could affect even those who have lived within the law for decades.
At its core, this issue is not about culture but conduct. There is nothing wrong in celebrating one’s heritage or cherishing the rituals that define identity. Diwali, Holi, Durga Puja—these are festivals of meaning and belonging. But when celebration turns into nuisance, or when tradition disregards context, it ceases to be culture and becomes caricature. Every country has its customs and codes, some written, many simply understood. To live in another land is to respect those unspoken boundaries. One cannot demand acceptance while showing none in return. India itself expects visitors and expatriates to conform to its social and legal norms; should Indians abroad not extend the same courtesy? The very success of the Indian diaspora has been built on balance—on the ability to blend values with modernity, tradition with tolerance. It is this fine equilibrium that must be preserved.
Regrettably, the recent wave of excesses has already stirred talk beyond dinners and community WhatsApp groups. What remains hidden is how these incidents feed into a narrative of blame and suspicion. The long-resident community fears that local neighbours who once greeted them with curiosity and respect are now shaking their heads and whispering: “They are Indians.” The risk is that individual misconduct will translate into collective punishment. With stricter visa enforcement and deportations on the rise, the timing could not be worse. The diaspora cannot afford to be seen as insular, disruptive or oblivious. The price of misbehaviour is not just reputation—it may be livelihoods, residency and the goodwill painstakingly earned over generations.
There is, ultimately, a lesson in this embarrassment. It is a reminder that identity is not a performance; it is a responsibility. To be Indian abroad should mean to exemplify the best of what the country stands for: dignity, discipline, and decorum. The recent spectacle of crackers and chaos is not Indian culture—it is its distortion. And those who claim to represent the spirit of India by acting without thought or grace do their homeland no favour. As the global Indian community continues to grow, it must also grow up. The world will respect India not for how loudly its festivals are celebrated, but for how gracefully its people conduct themselves wherever they go.