On the line: Why hating on queues is a Boomer move
On the Line: Why Hating on Queues Is a Boomer Move
The Queuing Debate
On the line - Consider this scenario: When Indians watch GenZ's Reels showcasing queues at new cafés, viral dosa joints, beauty pop-ups, or limited-edition sales, the grumbles of Boomers echo instantly. “Why queue for dosa?” they might scoff. “It’s just coffee, not a cup of gold!” “Diamonds in those sneakers?” they wonder, as if the act of waiting itself is somehow outdated or unappealing. This generational disdain for lines often comes with a dismissive tone, framing the younger crowd as chasing trivialities.
Queues Through Time
Yet, every era has its own version of waiting. In the 1960s, Indians stood patiently at ration shops, ensuring their families wouldn’t face hunger. The 1972 British Museum crowd famously spent 14 hours to glimpse Tutankhamun’s gold mask. Even in 1996, Mumbai’s elite lined up for Michael Jackson’s first concert in India, enduring two-hour waits without complaint. Millennials, too, embraced the experience, waiting in line for McDonald’s’ debut in the city.
The Soviet Connection
Queuing wasn’t just a cultural trait in India—it was a global phenomenon. In the USSR, it became a national ritual, with people waiting endlessly for basic goods. Vladimir Sorokin’s 1983 novel Queue captures this essence, following a man in an endless line where purpose is unclear. The story is filled with snippets of conversation, rumors, and the iconic question, “Kto Posledniy?” (Who is last?), highlighting the communal nature of the wait.
Waiting as Social Currency
Today’s queues aren’t about scarcity anymore. That 90-minute wait at Rameshwaram Café isn’t cringey—it’s a conscious decision to linger and connect. “GenZ sees FOMO as a bigger loss than time spent in line,” explains Ranveer Lala, a 21-year-old real-estate professional. “When the wait gets boring, I can doomscroll in peace.” His friend Samarth Purohit, a chartered accounting student, adds that queues can set the tone for outings: “By the time you reach the table, a couple is past introductions and awkward silences.”
Unexpected Benefits of the Line
Waiting often comes with its own rewards. During a recent visit to Mokai, Pooja Bhatia, a communications professional, noted a 45-minute wait for the matcha menu. She and a friend used the time to explore Bandra, grabbing cookies at a local bakery. “I’d never have made the trip just for that,” she admits. Other times, she’s browsed second-hand books or tried momos near a hyped restaurant, turning the wait into an adventure.
Redefining the Experience
In Delhi, a 20-minute lunchtime wait at Saravana Bhavan hasn’t deterred loyal fans. Shweta Gandhi, a 46-year-old businesswoman, uses the time to browse CP’s jewelry stalls and absorb the city’s vibe. “My father would never have agreed to stand in line,” she recalls. “We had to convince him to go to Nirula’s for pizza and sodas.”
The world often labels India as a land of impatience—where personal space is neglected and lines are seen as chaotic. But this perspective overlooks a vital truth: the act of waiting is a deliberate, shared experience. As Mumbai-based actor Kiaan puts it, “You learn so much by being an observer. While waiting, you’re surrounded by new faces. Isn’t that why we step out?”