Indians have forgotten what the word queue, once the name for a Chinaman’s pigtail, means. At some stage in the evolution of the English language it became the word for a line of people waiting for something in an orderly fashion. Indians have forgotten that as well.
In today’s India there’s no such thing as a line of people waiting for something in an orderly fashion. At the post office, I present myself at the stamps window just as it opens for business. In five minutes there are seven men beside, around and over me. Everywhere but behind me, in a queue. One odoriferous fellow with breath that could kill low-flying pigeons was so close beside me, we could have been joined at the hip. Why don’t you all stand in a queue, I shout. They stare at me mystified with a look that says Why are you speaking Chinese, is it because a queue is a Chinaman’s pigtail, and why do you want us to stand on a Chinaman’s pigtail?
Much the same thing happens at the cinemas, the lifts, even the fish market in Goa.
Recently, at Dubai airport, checking in at the cargo class counter, I was almost knocked over by a hurricane behind me. It was a swarthy fellow wanting to beat the queue. Bloody Indian, I said, stand in queue. Sir, said the man, mind it please, I am Pakistani.
