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Close encounters at Traffic signals
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In less than a moment, the dutiful traffic constable on the beat is at the spot. With a smile that says `Gotcha!'.
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WHO SAYS traffic policemen are tough and often mean? Come on, they are `reasonable' people. Unlike politicians, they are open for peace talks all the time and for amicable solutions, every time you cross the border — the No Entry or the Line of Control — the STOP line at the traffic signal. The only things, you need to get out of the situation is
a.Time
b.Money
c.Names of relatives of top police officials (knowing the top brass alone will not do, as one of these stories indicate).
Scene One
Date: March 12
Venue: College Road-Greams Road Junction (down the bridge on the river Cooum).
Time: 4 p.m.
A media professional with an appointment with a senior police officer rushes across towards College Road. A plainclothesman stops. Crime? ``Jumping signal''. The professional insists on identity. Reply: ``Are you not reading newspapers? Now Commissioner Vijay Kumar has said anyone can check vehicles''. Professional agrees to pay fine but insists on a challan. Reply: ``As per the new system introduced by the Commissioner, I will call the control room and a sub-inspector will come and pick up your vehicle''.
Soon, there's a huge group of people. Embarrassed professional requests to shift talks to pavement. Reacting to the hostility, the professional (without revealing his media identity) says ``I am a friend of (particular officer)''. The `victim' calls the officer on the mobile to tell him that no offence has been committed but he has been stopped.
The personnel laugh, ``Enna Film Kaaturiya'' (``Showing off''). They wouldn't believe it. The officer promises help over phone and hangs up. One of the policemen now decides to play KBC. ``You know him? All right, tell us his sister's name,'' he chuckles. The professional tries using the officer's children's names, but that's not good enough. So he calls his other ``friend'' an even higher officer over the mobile. The officer comes on the line but the three policemen have had enough of this. ``First one officer and now the other officer? Give me the phone, I can get you Commissioner Vijay Kumar on the line,'' one of them laughs.
The victim on the verge of tears thinks, ``All that critical work against police and now it was all coming back to me.''
Another 45 minutes pass, the drama continues, the cast of characters now includes a sub-inspector who decides to play saviour and let the `detained' man leave, but with an apology. The victim (still without having revealed his media identity) insists on some challan for being stopped, in vain. Leaves before the policemen change their mind. He complains to DCP, JCP and even the Commissioner. Nothing happens. The victim investigates the track record of the personnel in question and finds out serious issues of propriety and ethics concerning their functioning.
Scene Two
Date: March 17 (Sunday)
Place: Gandhi Statue Point, Marina
Time: 8-45 a.m.
A young event executive zips across in his car from the beach road to take the right to Radhakrishnan Road. The signal grows amber and as thoughts flash past his mind: ``What to do? Might be late for appointment at 9 at Egmore. There's no traffic. Who would know? But wait, we Indians they say don't follow rules. Time to prove it wrong.'' The car halts but a bit late for the front wheel has just scraped past the STOP line. He tries a reverse, but the Ambassador behind him doesn't oblige. In less than a moment, the dutiful traffic constable on the beat is at the spot. With a smile that says `Gotcha!'.
The light goes green. But our event management friend stays on for debate. ``I could have gone, you couldn't have caught me. But I stopped. You will have to appreciate that.'' No luck. The policeman informs him that the fine would cost Rs.110 but he could let him go for fifty (probably because only two wheels crossed the line!).
The traffic constable reasons: ``You can go on arguing, but you are late. It makes sense for you to pay and leave without wasting your time.'' Executive goes on to mode `plead'. ``See, the truth is — I DO NOT HAVE MONEY. But I promise, that if you let me go now, I will come back and pay you your fifty''. The policeman gives him a disbelieving look, ``Vilayaduriya'' (``Playing or what''). ``I swear. God promise. You have to trust me,'' says the executive earnestly.
The man in uniform gives him one helpless long look and says: ``Okay... But remember,'' he pauses. ``The time is now 9.00. By 10 if you don't come back, you are not a gentleman.''
10-02 a.m.
The car races back to the same spot. Halts. The executive gets out, looks around, spots the personnel bonding, walks up to his saviour that morning and hands out the fifty. All the men shake hands with the executive. ``You are gentleman, Sir''.
Fade out.
Scene Three
It was the same night, a well-known director-cinematographer said he was roughed up by an allegedly drunken policeman in mufti. Newspapers flashed the story the next day. And the union of cinematographers took up the issue seriously.
By Sudhish Kamath Illustration by Surendra
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Life
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