Trip with sister: Queuing for a train ticket
And even though we, hopelessly tourist with a huge backpack, never managed to get apples for 30 Rs a kilo, the bargaining with auto-wallas went smoothly in an unexampled way. Knowing how drastically a life of a white foreigner changes in India once you put a backpack on your shoulders I anticipated a long argument with rickshaw-drivers. Yet, going down to a fair 60 Rs from the initially quoted 70 Rs (hei, do they remember me at the market?) was not difficult, so we victoriously got in the auto and headed to the New Delhi Railway Station. Still being on the positive wave, we tended to perceive the rush of the railway station as rather festive than tiring. However, once we found out that the international tourist office gets closed at 2 pm on Sunday and now we are to take a general queue to get the tickets, the whole outlook of the situation has changed over a moment.
After a brief enquiry we found out which counter to queue for – second sleeper in the current booking was easy to identify by the longest (for the obvious reason) line. After taking my turn in the all-male line I got a chance to revisit the concept of defending your queue, something I read about before I even came to India and something that really stuck in my mind as extremely relevant knowledge.
The man right after me was perfectly aware of the fact that I was before him. And he nodded every time I drew his attention to this circumstance. Despite the verbal agreement was there the non-verbal resistance proved strong. Whenever the queue was to move further, he made sure he moved quicker than I did, so to glue to the man in front of me quicker than I even realized the necessity of doing so. At some point of time a man approached me and said, ‘Take your turn’, pointing out at the fact that I just had my foot in the queue and the rest of me was outside. By Indian standards, I was jumping the queue and not bothering to take my turn. ‘I made sure I have taken, baisab’. The man behind admonished, “Maintain your queue”. I stroke back, ‘You immensely help me do so.
Yes, I was not able to follow the concept of ‘let us stick to each other’ in this all male queue. I thought once again that even the very queuing culture in this country reinforces exclusion of women from anyhow agentic behaviour. I realized there was a point... a good point, actually… in having a big backpack on my shoulders so to ensure no one glues to my back and whatever follows it. Being a token felt as clear as it could. Leaving aside stares and roaming around me, the very fact of being the only women in the line of 50-60 people is horrifying on its own right once realized. When I already could rather hear than see what was going on an the back of the line I got to hear a huge buzz caused by a few woman trying to appeal to the concept of ladies lines and on that plea jump the queue. I would not like to encounter the anger and the aggressive verbal attack of the all-male crowd that the women bravely faced.
Being observant always pays in India – the principle proved once more time after I found out that people are holding some paper forms. A question to the man in front lead to the form being obtained and filled in for me – a luxury of unselfish help that you, almost unlearnt to trust people, encounter in India now and then. The form appeared to be an application for ticket reservation, quite a vital attribute for getting the ticket.
As the queue was getting closer to the counter, it was turning into a crowd multiplied by the people humbly standing nearby and then all of a sudden merging the queue and the people standing on both sides and claiming they were told to wait. Here, almost at the counter I could grasp the alchemy of the current booking. Two men in the shining golden framed small rectangular glasses, golden watch and golden seal-ring both deep into the thick and huge registers with thin paper sheets and were writing off pink manual tickets at a speed ignorant of the rush in front of the counter.
After a brief enquiry we found out which counter to queue for – second sleeper in the current booking was easy to identify by the longest (for the obvious reason) line. After taking my turn in the all-male line I got a chance to revisit the concept of defending your queue, something I read about before I even came to India and something that really stuck in my mind as extremely relevant knowledge.
The man right after me was perfectly aware of the fact that I was before him. And he nodded every time I drew his attention to this circumstance. Despite the verbal agreement was there the non-verbal resistance proved strong. Whenever the queue was to move further, he made sure he moved quicker than I did, so to glue to the man in front of me quicker than I even realized the necessity of doing so. At some point of time a man approached me and said, ‘Take your turn’, pointing out at the fact that I just had my foot in the queue and the rest of me was outside. By Indian standards, I was jumping the queue and not bothering to take my turn. ‘I made sure I have taken, baisab’. The man behind admonished, “Maintain your queue”. I stroke back, ‘You immensely help me do so.
Yes, I was not able to follow the concept of ‘let us stick to each other’ in this all male queue. I thought once again that even the very queuing culture in this country reinforces exclusion of women from anyhow agentic behaviour. I realized there was a point... a good point, actually… in having a big backpack on my shoulders so to ensure no one glues to my back and whatever follows it. Being a token felt as clear as it could. Leaving aside stares and roaming around me, the very fact of being the only women in the line of 50-60 people is horrifying on its own right once realized. When I already could rather hear than see what was going on an the back of the line I got to hear a huge buzz caused by a few woman trying to appeal to the concept of ladies lines and on that plea jump the queue. I would not like to encounter the anger and the aggressive verbal attack of the all-male crowd that the women bravely faced.
Being observant always pays in India – the principle proved once more time after I found out that people are holding some paper forms. A question to the man in front lead to the form being obtained and filled in for me – a luxury of unselfish help that you, almost unlearnt to trust people, encounter in India now and then. The form appeared to be an application for ticket reservation, quite a vital attribute for getting the ticket.
As the queue was getting closer to the counter, it was turning into a crowd multiplied by the people humbly standing nearby and then all of a sudden merging the queue and the people standing on both sides and claiming they were told to wait. Here, almost at the counter I could grasp the alchemy of the current booking. Two men in the shining golden framed small rectangular glasses, golden watch and golden seal-ring both deep into the thick and huge registers with thin paper sheets and were writing off pink manual tickets at a speed ignorant of the rush in front of the counter.
posted by Olga Tikhonova | 7:08 pm
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