Day -starters
It
was another usual day where everyone was busy getting ready for work. I was
running a bit behind the schedule, which was showing in my temper. It had
rained heavily last night and the surroundings were immersed in water. I was
waiting for the maid to come and do her routine task so that I can leave with a
sense of neat and clean house. She was trying to cope up with the flood
situation in her house and busy to rescue the limited belongings that she
possessed. ‘Damn!! I will be late’ was the thought when I took charge of the
steering wheel. The traffic was chaotic on the road. Everybody trying to
overtake from whichever side. The underway beneath the railway bridge gets
waterlogged; I have to take a longer route now. A car went full speed splashing
the dirty water. My hair and sleeve of the dress got drenched. “Owner of this
luxury car is supposed to be educated and well-groomed, why can’t they show
some sense?” I was imagining myself entering the office as the dirty character of
‘washing- powder- Nirma-ad’.
Anyway,
I have to concentrate on the round-about ahead. On a smaller one usually there
is no traffic-signal. The Traffic police are posted but in a hurry you tend to
miss him standing on one side of the road under a shady tree. Traffic police on
the road is a recent scene for me. The city I grew up had no concept of ‘road
sense’. Foot walkers, cyclists, scooterists and motorists (who were very rare)
used to share the road with equal pride. In mornings and evenings the pride was
further shared by buffaloes, cows and goats. ‘Keep left’ was a slogan mugged in
school but hardly practiced. My memory of a Traffic-police was a man clad in
white uniform; recently changed to blue and white. Another information I had
was they commonly suffer from varicose veins which is an occupational hazard. In
this city I come across Traffic police profoundly during the helmet-pehno-seatbelt-bandho-drive
or licence-check-karoa-drive or pandrah-agast-chhabbis-janvari-explosive-checking-drive.
I have changed the nomenclature to Terriffic police.
I
was following the car in front of me, making a mental note that the motorbike
should not be allowed to cross or I would have to wait till the huge caravan of
vehicles pass off. I was alarmed by the shrill tone of whistle and a white-blue
person emerging in front of me. He was signaling me to stop and waving the
caravan of the opposite side to pass by. Suddenly in a deft gesture he turned
right-angle, clapped heels together and started signaling to the other caravan.
The whistle was blowing in a rhythmic fashion as if talking to the vehicles and
instructing the drivers what to do. His face was fresh and friendly and his
eyes observant, efficiently taking a note of where the traffic is clogging.
While his moves were professional, his decisions were empathetic. It was rare
scene and I was enjoying it. Suddenly I felt a sense of peace coming down on
the drivers. Shrieking of horns subsided and the vehicles were attentive to
take orders like disciplined rows of children in the assembly ground. He was in
total command of the situation. No yelling, no honking, the vehicles were
gliding by as if in a trans. He was acting as an antidote to subside the
overflow of peptic juices. I shall be late today but cheerful.
I signaled
a thumbs-up sign while passing by and he acknowledged it with a subtle smile.
A few good service men ! Kudos to them .
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