A Shakedown on Gandhi's Birthday

On the Mahatma's birthday, the children had an important lesson on how our system of law and order functions. They saw Mom and Dad give in to a bully.

We were headed to Koshy's for lunch and took a left turn at a light just two blocks away from Gandhiji’s statue on Mahatma Gandhi Road. Our car was flagged down by a couple of policemen.

There were the usual hapless motorcyclists begging and bargaining for release. We pulled over and rolled down our windows. One of the cops sauntered to our car.

“You took a free left turn on the junction,” he said. “There is no free turn.”

We were certain the light had been green. In any case, there had been cars in front of us that had turned left on to the empty road, and so had we. We had done nothing as wrongful as blowing through a red light, which Bangaloreans routinely do whether the streets are empty or not.

All the cars in front of us and behind us were gone on the empty road. We were the only foolish ones to stop for a person in uniform.

We insisted we had not turned left on a red light. The cop demanded to see my husband’s licence. He looked disappointed that it was all legitimate. He looked at us: a family out for Saturday lunch. He looked at our kids, who had stopped reading their books and looked worried.

“You turned on red light,” the cop said. “If you go back, you will see.”

The shakedown was so pathetic and obvious. I would have laughed were I not seething. “But the lights have changed already, have they not …?” my husband said, incredulous and polite.

The cop looked deliberately at the licence again. He was reluctant to return it. “You have to pay something,” he insisted. Now he was getting to business. “Hundred rupees,” he said sticking his hand out. "For violation."

There was no question who was being violated, but we paid up. It was his word against ours so there was no winning this fight. And like any skilled extortionist, he gauged the amount was small enough for us to write off as an irritant not worth disrupting our day for.

He took the money and waved us on generously. There was no receipt for the “fine.”

"But we did nothing wrong ...!" the children protested. We told them this was an abuse of power that we could challenge successfully in a place where the government functions in a fair and transparent manner. Not in India.

On the Mahatma's birthday, my children witnessed for the first time something that happens every day millions of times across India. Currency notes embossed with Gandhi’s face and proclaiming "The truth always wins" are wrongfully extracted from the pockets of citizens by a breed of common bully called a government servant.