"The foreign language-English or Hindi?
It was a warm spring day as I set off on the mundane duty of sending important post as speedily as possible. As I took my place in the quintessential queue which is the hallmark of Indian post offices, I noticed a man who after an arduous wait had finally made it to the counter but was being unceremoniously shouldered aside. With a totally baffled look he looked at the person who had replaced him at the counter and seemed to ask him something to which the gentleman replied with a vague gesture backwards. Unwilling to relinquish his coveted position at the head of the line, my man broached the second in line. The queue inched forward at the excruciatingly slow speed at which lines in government offices always do. The man I observed was dressed in a loose fitting kurta pyjama and by appearances belonged to that class of individuals who are born to toil and are called daily wagers. He moved back and forth along the line, a crumpled paper clasped in his hand and a beseeching look in his helpless eyes. The issue at hand was the filling up of the e-MO form which he could not do himself as it was in English. Since there were still a number of people ahead of me, I was engrossed in his dilemma and his inability to send the money in spite of being perhaps the earliest comer to the post office. He knew only Hindi, as he in his request to all, was repeatedly stating 'Sir hindi mai nahi hai nahi to hum hi faram bhar lete'. ( Sir the form is not in Hindi otherwise I would have filled it by myself). As is usual, a conversation gained momentum on the uselessness of the government which had public forms printed in a foreign language. My man's agitation grew as he was probably getting late for his duty and would be deprived of his wages for the day.
The indifferent clerk sitting behind the counter rummaged through her bag and pulled out her mobile which was busy pelting out a loud bollywood number. Then followed a long conversation, which covered issues ranging from the neighbour's new saree to the best coaching classes. Meanwhile all the civilized, educated and respectable citizens of India waited patiently for the hotline to cool down and official transactions to restart. Someone with an extra drop of the milk of humanity asked the clerk why she did not fill up the form for the poor chap. Heavily spectacled eyes rolled heavenwards and a sharp voice clarified that the govt did not pay her to fill up individual forms.
Someone rudely prodded me from behind with the comment 'Oh Uncle aage bado aapka number aa gaya' (Oh uncle move ahead your number has come). I was jolted out of my reverie and walked away from the line. Seeing me approaching, my man gave a sigh of relief. I could see a slow smile spread hesitatingly on his face. It finally became a beam when I offered to help fill the form for him. Another loud call from the clerk at the counter admonished me to get his signatures on the cuttings also. I started making entries in the form. He was sending the money to his wife and aged parents in a town named Bahraich in UP. During the form filling process, he was regretful 'apka number aagaya tha par meri karan aapka nuksaan hogaya' ( Your number had come and because of me your work too got hampered). He explained that he sent his meager savings to his family as he wanted to educate his children in an English medium school otherwise they too would be unable to fill forms. He thanked me with 'Bhagwaan bhala kare Sir' and with authoritative magnanimity, he requested me to stand in front of him in the queue."
