Cutting in line
In India, lines seem to be a mere pretense at organization, just a suggestion of order but not something to really obey or participate in. It doesn't matter what the line is for-ordering food, washing your hands, the bus-people ignore your very presence and pass in front of you. At first I assumed I was getting cut in line because I was a polite foreigner, too passive to say anything, but then I saw Indians cutting other Indians just as frequently. In many of the restaurants and cafeterias on campus, you order at a cashier's stand, pay and then take the receipt to the kitchen for your food to be prepared. These scenarios are particularly maddening because this presents multiple opportunities for cutting. However, luck was on my side one day last week when I was in line with an Indian man who was as frustrated as I was about being cut in line by a man and his son who handed their tickets over before I could even form a frown of injustice. The man behind me let the little boy hand his ticket over, but when the father did there was a rapid-fire exchange in Tamil between the man behind me and the kitchen worker taking the tickets. From the gestures and facial expressions that followed, it was obvious that the cutter had been tattled on and was being sent to the back of the line. My ally and I exchanged smug, victorious glances as he stalked off and we handed our receipts over for our veggie meals. I was so inspired by this incident that I stood my ground the next day when another person tried to cut me. I blocked his pass but smiled sweetly as I held my ground. He backed down and in celebrating my success I didn't even mind that a family of five had snuck in front of me and was now ordering. Little victories.
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