Do we say enough 'Thank You's in India?

It's funny how in India we thank the restaurant manager who assigns seating at the door, but not the waiter. When was the last time you thanked a taxi driver, bus conductor or a domestic help?
As I was traveling on a public bus in New York State, I probably said "Thank you" a hundred times: I thanked the baggage handler first, for putting my bags in the luggage rack; I then thanked the nonchalant ticket collector for taking my ticket and accepting me on the bus (though I paid an absurd $50 for the ticket); I then smiled at the bus driver and then thanked him for telling me how long the journey would be.
No, it wasn't that I was having a great day - in fact, I did badly in an exam the night before. I had simply adapted to the social norm in the US to thank people for all acts, no matter how small. It wasn't just me - everyone on the bus was thanking these workers and greeting each other as they boarded. At the end of the bus ride, everyone thanked the bus driver again.
The next day, I landed in Mumbai. As people got out of the airplane, no one even bothered looking at the baggage handlers, let alone thank them for the service. When I did thank the kind man who picked up my bag from the conveyor belt, he looked as shocked and grateful as though I were a Bollywood actor. Instead of getting the typical "You're welcome" response, he simply kept flashing his paan-stained teeth at me. Perhaps he wasn't used to a 'Thank You' or more likely, he was hoping to charm his way through to my wallet.
But, what is it that precludes Indians from such simple acts of politeness seen commonly in American society? One might argue that paying people is a sufficient token of gratitude. But could it be the linguistic hierarchy between English and other languages that is affecting our limited social gratitude?
The hierarchy of English over Indian languages is so commonplace, that we often fail to apprehend its impact. In India, English is viewed as a language that empowers people who want to succeed at our top universities and companies. On the other hand, languages such as Hindi have failed to achieve that same degree of perceived sophistication and respect.
Take for instance, the flak Modi received in his campaign days as he flustered in his English speeches. His inability to speak English was possibly associated with his humble beginnings. The ability of the Indian elite to speak English accords it with a certain degree of superiority over others in society. This hierarchical disparity manifests itself in the form of a social bias on the part of the elite - it often fails to acknowledge those who do not speak in the same medium. Perhaps, the English-speaker thinks that it is not worth saying 'Thank You' or in my view, the lack of a common tongue accords him with a greater degree of control in social interactions.
As I was traveling with a friend while in India, the taxi driver took a wrong turn. Along with a few English expletives, my friend was quick to dismiss him. Two months later, I was with that same friend in the U.S. when a taxi driver made a similar mistake. This time, my friend took the pains to explain to him politely. As a bystander in both these cases, I sensed that my friend realized that he did not have the same degree of control in the situation because the driver was perfectly able to retaliate back in fluent and probably better English. In contrast, my friend knew he wielded a natural superiority over the Indian driver because of the driver's inability to converse in English. No matter how the driver argued back in Hindi, it would not have commensurate impact.
While we must celebrate our linguistic diversity, we must also reflect whether such hierarchy is precluding our ability to acknowledge kindness and service. Maybe next time we should take a moment to also thank that waiter.