Chandigarh: There is a little-known story about the Hollywood star Gregory Peck that offers a sharp lesson in dignity, restraint, and the quiet authority of self-worth – one that stands in stark contrast to the public culture of power and privilege in present-day India.In this account, Peck walks into a restaurant in Los Angeles with his agent and is brusquely told by the maître d’ that no tables are available, and that he will have to wait his turn, which could take time.Peck opts quietly to wait, but his incensed agent urges the actor to announce who he is, thereby securing a table immediately – hardly an unreasonable instinct in a city inured to fame, celebrities and grand entrances by superstars.Peck refuses, replying, almost prophetically, “If I have to tell them who I am, then I ain’t.”The tale may be apocryphal, as many such stories are, but the honest and down-to-earth message attributed to the late actor was unarguably clear: real stature does not need to be displayed and those who flaunt their importance patently rarely possess it. Peck’s apparent choice to quietly wait at that restaurant spoke for itself, a subtle reminder that true authority needs no announcement, display or fanfare; it is self-evident.Such restraint, that seemingly came so naturally to Peck decades earlier, finds no echo in India today, where public and private spaces routinely reverberate with a familiar challenge from self-important officials and personalities: “Tum jaante nahi main kaun hoon (don’t you know who I am)?”This line is barked out ad nauseam with weary predictability by politicians, civil servants, police and military personnel, judges, businessmen, minor government officials, and, by extension, even some of their relatives, drivers, and security staff – trading on their proximity to power by association.President Donald Trump enters the stage to deliver remarks at the Rocky Mount Events Center in Rocky Mount, N.C., Friday, Dec. 19, 2025. Photo: AP/PTI.Simply ain’tIn recent decades, this utterance has become shorthand for entitlement, impunity, and the belief that rules apply only to others. Furthermore, this performative bludgeon of authority is wielded to extract submission, excuse misconduct, justify rule-bending, and, above all, to assert dominance – as though the world owes the speaker compliance simply, because he or she happen, for the moment, to loudly assert their authority and station.Simply put, without their stentorian proclamations of status and braggadocio, these self-styled luminaries simply ain’t – as Peck put it; they ain’t impressive, ain’t notable and ain’t influential in any meaningful or humanly relatable wa and in the end, they’re just ain’t – existing merely to feed their constant, self-generated applause.In this sense, many of these high-end ‘ain’ts,’ the very opposite of Gregory Peck, rely on motorcades, grand bungalows, security details, and ceremonial trappings to feel significant. Internally hollow, they exist only through the office they occupy. But once the pageantry fades – at retirement, relinquishment of office, or through loss of power – they all collapse into nothing, their supposed importance evaporating with the pomp and spectacle that earlier sustained it.And yet, the structure of power and society across India is such that the more these ‘ain’ts’ promoted themselves and bludgeoned their way to undeserved privilege and perks in public life, the more they were seemingly indulged. Everyone around participated in their pantomime of power display: society bowed, bureaucracy genuflected, media amplified, and the citizenry, conditioned over decades in the art of deference, applauded from the sidelines – but fully aware that it was all a performance, a staged display of authority with little substance behind it.The culture these ‘ain’ts’ perpetuated was also one of noise and spectacle.Sirens blared, and traffic was halted to clear the way for their convoys of dubious urgency. Consequently, ambulances were stalled, office-goers missed appointments, students missed their examinations, and schoolchildren sat stranded in buses under the scorching sun.Flights too were often delayed because one of these ‘ain’ts’ arrived late, triggering missed connections and cascading disruptions for thousands of flyers; trains were held at signals to facilitate their leisurely arrivals, and entire neighbourhoods were sealed off, all to suit the convenience of the privileged and to further entrench the authority of the ‘ain’ts as something to be unquestioningly obeyed, rather than examined and dismissed.Moreover, beyond these daily inconveniences lay a deeper distortion of public services, which increasingly functioned around VIP needs and schedules rather than those of ordinary citizens. Police were routinely diverted from genuine security threats to manage traffic and enforce protocol, and over time, locals were compelled to internalise this imbalance – forced to organise their lives around power, rather than expect power to adjust to them, which in democratic societies was the accepted norm.Commuters move along a city road as large billboards welcome Prime Minister Narendra Modi ahead of his two-day visit to Assam, in Guwahati, Thursday, Dec. 18, 2025. Photo: PTI.Social mediaAdditionally, social media had only intensified this tendency, giving the ‘ain’ts’ a far larger stage. They posed for video clips, with even minor functionaries performing as celebrities. Because, for the ‘ain’ts,’ power was no longer exercised quietly; it was staged for ‘likes’, ‘shares’ and validation, as optics increasingly substituted for substance.By contrast, a genuinely confident officer, leader, or professional commanded respect through competence and restraint, rather than insignia or display, as they had no need to announce themselves or lean on ceremony and consequently respect followed them naturally.History’s most admired figures, whether in politics, the military, or public life, were often understated in manner, understanding that real authority was exercised quietly, never needing to advertise itself. They also rejected the widely followed axiom of Indian officialdom – ‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it’ – understanding instead that real authority and stature did not need to stridently proclaim itself.This culture of asserting one’s importance has clear antecedents in India’s ancient caste system, where social hierarchy was rigidly codified and respect was often demanded based on birth rather than merit. Status was both visible and performative: titles, symbols, and ceremonial privileges marked one’s place in society, teaching generations that recognition must be sought, loudly if necessary.During British colonial rule, these tendencies were further formalised and amplified. The Raj institutionalised hierarchy through offices, honours, and protocol- gun salutes for Maharajas and honorific titles for Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims-making deference to position an essential part of daily life. Post-Independence, many of these practices – formal titles, bureaucratic rituals, ceremonial precedence – persisted, embedding in Indian society an enduring lesson: authority and importance must be displayed, or they are deemed nonexistent.In contemporary India, this legacy finds expression in multiple arenas – politics, business, entertainment, and even everyday interactions. The compulsive need to announce oneself, to demand recognition, reflects centuries of social conditioning reinforced by institutional structures.The line attributed to Peck in the story – “If I have to tell them who I am, then I ain’t” – makes clear, real authority does not need amplification. It requires no sirens, shouted threats, or name-dropping – only quiet confidence exercised within the rules, not above them.Those who lean on protocol, titles, or ceremony instead of substance, once shorn of fanfare, are simply not worthy of the deference they demand. As the off-the-cuff but salient one-liner underscores: true stature needs no proclamation, no edicts, and the self-styled mighty, without titles, fanfare, or ceremony, simply ain’t.