Small battles of another age
Corruption seems to be the flavor of the season, so I'm dusting out an email from 2002 sent to close friends and publishing it.
Again. This time with the traffic police. Now that it's over I don't know whether I should feel triumphant, righteous, sore or plain sad. I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. But here is what unfolded this afternoon:
I had gone to meet a friend over coffee. Two hours later, I discover my bike missing. When I show my friend where I'd parked it, he points out that it's on the law-abiding side of the "No Parking" board, but outside the (barely visible) line drawn on the street. So off we go to the nearby police station, and sure enough, there's my bike in the parking lot.
Traffic cop: "Show me your license and hand over 150 bucks, I'll give you a receipt that you can show to the parking lot attendant (PLA) and drive your vehicle out."
Fair enough. But I had forgotten my wallet at home so my friend assumes responsibility. He displays his license, but finds only 70 rupees in his wallet. He starts fishing out 10s and 20s from different locations on his person.
The cop leaves us "I'll come back later when you have the money. Now I have to go and impound more vehicles."
The efficient bastard.
We are at the coin stage now. 130-135-136-141. Stop. That is all he has. Should we ask someone for money? Or go to an ATM? Where's the nearest? Deep thought.
PLA: What's the matter? Which is your vehicle?
Friend: That one.
PLA: Didn't you get the receipt?
Friend: No. We have only 141 bucks on us.
PLA considers a scrap of paper he is holding with the vehicle numbers on them. "Okay, hand it over and take your vehicle." He scribbles "141" on his paper in front of my bike number.
It all happens so fast. I am holding the money. I hand it over and we take the bike outside. Something doesn't seem right.
Friend: There, for the lack of 9 bucks you had to bribe the guy. Now in addition to losing the money you can feel guilty about it too.
I: You know what? You're absolutely right!
Riding back home there seems only one course to follow. I grab my wallet and some change and speed all the way back to the station. Hardly half an hour has passed. I walk up to the PLA. Of the officer there is yet no sign.
"Which vehicle is yours?"
"I already took it. I've come to pay the fine."
"What!"
"Yes. Look at your paper. That's my vehicle. I have brought nine bucks with me."
"You want a receipt."
"Right."
"You'll have to wait for the officer. He's the one with the receipt book."
I wait for the officer to return. Other defaulters come by. The PLA starts talking with one of them.
I suddenly catch a drift of his conversation. "...but the officer is not here. Look, I told this guy to go back home and get the remaining money. He's back now, and like you, is waiting for the officer to return."
I turn upon him savagely with blazing eyes and smiling lips.
"Is that right? Is that what you told me?"
Silence.
"I don't remember you telling me to come back with the money. If I hadn't returned, where would the 141 bucks have gone? What's your cut and what's the cops?"
The PLA is avoiding looking at me. "No, see. The tow truck charges 100 rupees per vehicle and 50 rupees is the fine..."
"That's if I have the receipt. Look in my eyes and tell me. Where would that money have gone?"
He avoids my eyes. "Into the pockets sir". His voice is suddenly small. I pat him on the shoulder and lapse into a silence that is comfortable on my side.
Definitely not on his. "I wonder what's taking the officer so long."
More silence.
"He should be here by now."
More silence.
"Why are you taking tension sir? Why don't you sit down on this bike ?"
I smile at him politely. "No tensions here. Thanks, but I don't want to sit on that bike as it is too dusty. I prefer to stand."
The cop soons returns with a fresh haul of vehicles. The PLA steps up to him and gives him 150 bucks. "Please give this man a receipt."
A few minutes later, receipt in hand, I step out of the station building. The PLA comes up. "Everything fine?"
"Yes, thanks." I offer my hand and we shake. "Be good."
The PLA looks distinctly uneasy. I calm him, "I'm not angry at you at all. I understand. It's just me. I'm like that."
The PLA escorts me out "The next time you come here, I too would be like that."
I laugh. "Hopefully there won't be a next time for me."
Again. This time with the traffic police. Now that it's over I don't know whether I should feel triumphant, righteous, sore or plain sad. I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. But here is what unfolded this afternoon:
I had gone to meet a friend over coffee. Two hours later, I discover my bike missing. When I show my friend where I'd parked it, he points out that it's on the law-abiding side of the "No Parking" board, but outside the (barely visible) line drawn on the street. So off we go to the nearby police station, and sure enough, there's my bike in the parking lot.
Traffic cop: "Show me your license and hand over 150 bucks, I'll give you a receipt that you can show to the parking lot attendant (PLA) and drive your vehicle out."
Fair enough. But I had forgotten my wallet at home so my friend assumes responsibility. He displays his license, but finds only 70 rupees in his wallet. He starts fishing out 10s and 20s from different locations on his person.
The cop leaves us "I'll come back later when you have the money. Now I have to go and impound more vehicles."
The efficient bastard.
We are at the coin stage now. 130-135-136-141. Stop. That is all he has. Should we ask someone for money? Or go to an ATM? Where's the nearest? Deep thought.
PLA: What's the matter? Which is your vehicle?
Friend: That one.
PLA: Didn't you get the receipt?
Friend: No. We have only 141 bucks on us.
PLA considers a scrap of paper he is holding with the vehicle numbers on them. "Okay, hand it over and take your vehicle." He scribbles "141" on his paper in front of my bike number.
It all happens so fast. I am holding the money. I hand it over and we take the bike outside. Something doesn't seem right.
Friend: There, for the lack of 9 bucks you had to bribe the guy. Now in addition to losing the money you can feel guilty about it too.
I: You know what? You're absolutely right!
Riding back home there seems only one course to follow. I grab my wallet and some change and speed all the way back to the station. Hardly half an hour has passed. I walk up to the PLA. Of the officer there is yet no sign.
"Which vehicle is yours?"
"I already took it. I've come to pay the fine."
"What!"
"Yes. Look at your paper. That's my vehicle. I have brought nine bucks with me."
"You want a receipt."
"Right."
"You'll have to wait for the officer. He's the one with the receipt book."
I wait for the officer to return. Other defaulters come by. The PLA starts talking with one of them.
I suddenly catch a drift of his conversation. "...but the officer is not here. Look, I told this guy to go back home and get the remaining money. He's back now, and like you, is waiting for the officer to return."
I turn upon him savagely with blazing eyes and smiling lips.
"Is that right? Is that what you told me?"
Silence.
"I don't remember you telling me to come back with the money. If I hadn't returned, where would the 141 bucks have gone? What's your cut and what's the cops?"
The PLA is avoiding looking at me. "No, see. The tow truck charges 100 rupees per vehicle and 50 rupees is the fine..."
"That's if I have the receipt. Look in my eyes and tell me. Where would that money have gone?"
He avoids my eyes. "Into the pockets sir". His voice is suddenly small. I pat him on the shoulder and lapse into a silence that is comfortable on my side.
Definitely not on his. "I wonder what's taking the officer so long."
More silence.
"He should be here by now."
More silence.
"Why are you taking tension sir? Why don't you sit down on this bike ?"
I smile at him politely. "No tensions here. Thanks, but I don't want to sit on that bike as it is too dusty. I prefer to stand."
The cop soons returns with a fresh haul of vehicles. The PLA steps up to him and gives him 150 bucks. "Please give this man a receipt."
A few minutes later, receipt in hand, I step out of the station building. The PLA comes up. "Everything fine?"
"Yes, thanks." I offer my hand and we shake. "Be good."
The PLA looks distinctly uneasy. I calm him, "I'm not angry at you at all. I understand. It's just me. I'm like that."
The PLA escorts me out "The next time you come here, I too would be like that."
I laugh. "Hopefully there won't be a next time for me."
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