38. Close Encounters Of The Cops Kind - Three More Cop Stories: #3. I Just Wanted To Make You Talk

They were the final few days of our December vacation. The traffic lights were suspended overhead on this modernized stretch of Galle road between Kollupitiya (Colombo 3) and Bambalapitiya (Colombo 4). We were driving slowly looking for an address. Suddenly the cop who jumped in front of us blowing his whistle, flagged me down. As I was stepping out of the vehicle with the documents, the typical Sri Lankan way, Deepa said, 

“Henry, please don’t go to argue with him. Let him fine if he wants.” 

This was obviously, because we were supposed to fly back in a few days and we certainly didn’t want tangle with the law.

“Why did you jump the red light?” The cop asked.

“What red light?”

“Uh huh! You didn’t even notice, huh? That red light.” The cop pointed at  the overhead color lights at the pedestrian crossing we just passed when it was green.

“I was watching the light all the way. When I crossed it, it was green. I don’t know if it turned amber when I was right under it.”

“All the other vehicles stopped. You sir, just jumped it.”

“I actually came with several other vehicles when you flagged me down. All of them passed us.”

“NO. All of them had stopped. Only you didn’t and you jumped the red light totally ignoring it.”

“Okay.”

I decided to keep my mouth shut and let it ride.

The cop who checked my documents made so many other remarks but all I did was nodding keeping my mouth zippered shut, which seemed to bug him.  

Why is the world so unfair?  How can the innocent survive in this world?

“This is gonna be a court case, not just a spot fine.”

I immediately opened my mouth, as a court case was the last thing we wanted with only few days to spare.

“Please don’t do that, make it a spot fine if you really must, officer.”

He peered at me under the helmet visor.

“Even we know it’s very inconvenient for everybody just to sue for a minor case like this. I JUST SAID SO JUST TO MAKE YOU TALK. WHY ARE YOU SILENT? You didn’t say anything for some time”

My silence has also bugged him. I had imagined it was the arguments that pissed them off.

“I already have said everything I had to say. Nothing else is there.”

“Where are you from?” He checked the address on my driver’s license.

 “Aha!” He exclaimed triumphantly, “People in this area attacked the police station recently right?  Ha ha ha… Were you also there in the mob, sir?” 

“I read there was an incident like that on the internet. I wasn’t even in the country.”

He wrote out the ticket and detained my driver’s license.

You pay this up to the post office and take the receipt to the police station. If you are too busy to come you can also send it through someone else.”

“Thank you very much. I have no one else to send. Bye”

The next morning we returned to Colombo just to pay the fine for an offense I’m quite positive I didn’t commit. So, the tax was paid at last. You can’t outrun the long arms of the law.

36. Close Encounters Of The Cops Kind - Three More Cop Stories: #1 THE MIDNIGHT SERMON

How long can you use a LPG cylinder?

Three weeks?  One month? Well, if I say we use our LPG cylinder for one or two years would you believe me? Well it may sound like a little farfetched tall tale blown out of proportion to you, but it’s true. The reason for this is when we come home for the vacation we are mostly out on the open road moving, eating out. So gas cylinder is hardly ever used. But, no worries, we pay the money due to the motherland in other forms. Especially, through post offices, the Police Department and right into the treasury.

Well the inevitable part of life on the open road is traffic cops. They try their very best to levy the money due to the country we cheat on LPG. “Oh, It’s their duty, isn’t it?”, one might argue. Well here are three cop stories from the last vacation. You decide for yourself!

I am almost always busted for a couple of offenses. One is speeding. Please don’t misunderstand this as driving recklessly and dangerously endangering other people’s lives. You really need to have a special skill developed to track the speed limit signs. They are cleverly placed in a way that you would easily miss them. Even if you find them the other sign that indicate the end of speed limit is missing. So how far is the speed limit is valid is a secret only the cops would know.

The other is overtaking, especially over the white lines. This is also a game of wild guessing and risk taking. In most of the places the while lines are not visible due to wear and tear.  And the most frustrating thing is when you have to crawl behind a truck loaded with logs, a tractor, a bus that stops at every stop for kilometers on end, as you won’t dare running over the white line.  And at the end when your patience has worn thin and when you think the while lines are over and it’s safer to overtake, and you do so and there you are flagged down immediately by the cops hiding at that very place, whose job is to know such places and trap you. But unfortunately, the private bus drivers who raced passed you overtaking you as if you were standing still, driving on the wrong side of the road, on the other side of the double white lines without giving a shit abut road rules, blasting their air hones which would make elephants shit their pants, terrorizing you, miraculously escape. And you are busted!

Well this is the Cop Story #1 

THE MIDNIGHT SERMON

It was the midnight. We were driving towards Colombo from Dambulla. I and the van driver ahead of me had been crawling behind a heavily loaded truck for the last 20 kilometers. We didn’t overtake because of the continuous solid single or double white line along the mountainous stretch of this road. I also was determined not to be busted this vacation, no matter what. So many vehicles overtook us over the white lines as if they didn’t exist. On severe climbs I even let the truck go ahead as I knew the danger of following a overloaded vehicle uphill. 

Finally the continuous white line transformed into a broken white line, yet shorter gaps and longer lines.

In a little while the faded lines appeared to be the same length as gaps, or at least I thought so. The van driver and I took the advantage of this and overtook the truck. Before I could swing back into my side a red lit police baton and a flashlight jumped out of the hiding place on the wrong side of the road and flagged us both down. The green luminous strips added flavor to the misery.

“SHIT” I muttered in Capital Block Letters.

I glanced at the dashboard clock before I stepped out. It was 12.30 a.m.! I grabbed the documents from behind the sun visor and walked back to the officer who stopped me. This one held a higher rank than a normal traffic cop. 

The first thing that greeted me was reeking of liquor. 

“Do you admit that you committed an offense?” he asked even before I came to a standstill.

“No. I overtook crossing the broken line.”

He shone the flashlight on the middle of the road and asked,

“Are these broken lines?”

“Maybe because they are worn off, to me it looked like broken lines,”

“Let’s see your License and insurance”.

He read the documents with the help of his flashlight and paid special attention to my drivers’ license.

“This is quite old”.

“Yes, but it’s still valid.”

“When you got the license, those days, did they teach you about the road markings?”

“That I can’t remember specifically, but know my highway code”.

The cop nodded smugly like a FBI special agent who finally managed to hunt down and capture a serial killer.

“Ha ha ha!” The reek of liquor penetrated my nose. “I got my license recently. Even I learnt my Highway Code from the book I got from the learners”. 

(Don’t ask me the validity of this because these are his words.)

“At least now, do you admit your fault?”

“Officer, you are going to fine me anyway. What difference does it make?”

“Ah hah! That’s where you are wrong! If you don’t admit that you committed an offense it’s not ethical to fine you. If you think we are there only to fine you, you can’t be more wrong. We are there to guide you and advise you, too. Well sir, I’ll ask you one question. Which road do you think the highest number of motor accidents are reported from?”

“This road.”  Actually I had read it online.

“Absolutely. We can catch 25 lawbreakers an hour if we want. And we are here to minimize that number.”  

The liquor smell was beginning to gag me.

“How nice.” I said.

“Now do you admit it?”

“Well, if you say that I violated a law I have to admit it”.

“Oh no, don’t admit just because I say so… According to your heart, do you accept that you broke the law?”

“Actually right from the beginning it was according to my heart that I said I didn’t. That van driver and I both were crawling behind that truck for so many kilometers without overtaking because of that white line. I have lost count how many other dudes overtook all three of us crossing the white lines. But I know you won’t believe me.”

“Okay, what I want to know is do you admit that you committed a traffic offense by overtaking that truck right here?”

“Officer, I have even advised others never to argue with a police officer, especially at times like this. It won’t do one any good because you hold all the aces  and I am totally defenseless. I have only my word against yours, which isn’t much. So, that is the reality. I haven’t done any crime as I understand. On the other hand the lines here are faded and almost invisible. I overtook at the very end of my patience when I couldn’t take it any more”.

“Sir, what are the places that you can’t overtake?”

“Well, when you would have to cross double or single solid white line. And where you can’t see far enough ahead to be sure it is safe,  er.. near a pedestrian crossing, a corner or bend, a hump bridge, the brow of a hill...”

“Burrrrrp!” 

The loud burp erupted out of the throat of my teacher brought my list to a standstill.

“Okay, in the mountainous roads where all those markings aren’t there, how do those drivers manage?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean how do those dudes know where to overtake where not to, who’s given priority at the narrow bottle neck and at the hairpin bend and the likes…”

“Okay you tell me.”

“They do these out of courtesy, sir out of courtesy”.

“Uh huh!”

He stopped the lecture and shone the flashlight on my van.

“Who’s in that van? Your family members?”

“Yes my wife and my son.”

“Where did you go at this time of the night?”

“We visited a friend and are now going home towards Colombo”. I gave several answers bundled together in the hope of cutting the conversation short.

“Do you know sir, I can go near your vehicle and point out five faults if I feel like, any given time?  Wanna try?”

“On, no officer. That’s absolutely not necessary. I know you hold all the aces tonight”.

“You can’t find a vehicle that is free of faults, it’s not easy.” He said shaking his head, pursing his lips.

“Now that we are on that subject I’ll tell you officer. This morning on my way here I followed a police vehicle belching black smoke, a long way. There must have been over one hundred faults on the vehicle and in the driving both”.

To hell with it. Water was above my nose anyways.

“I accept that.” The surprised me by handing over my documents back to me.

“Okay. It’s quite late now. Be careful when overtaking. You can go. Good night.”

“Good night, officer, thank you very much!”

As I was snapping on the seat belt I glanced at the dashboard clock. Thirty seven minutes! Actually I edited the lecture which was much longer than this and there was a lot of repetition. But, at least he didn’t fine me.

“What happened?” Deepa asked.

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you on the way. He didn’t fine me. That’s what that matters right now”. I said shoving the documents back under the sun visor flap.

31. CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE COPS KIND

I think the Sri Lankans those who have emigrated and those who work abroad are a much neglected species in their own land. They are bound by several invisible bonds. I wish to discuss about them in future blog posts.

One of those most important bonds is to be back on the scheduled date. As lot of things ride on that, they deliberately avoid situations that could end up in,... say especially courts. They drive more carefully than the others. Never argue with the cops, if it can be helped.

No matter how careful I am, I pay a fine or two every vacation. Mostly for speeding or overtaking. One vacation I was busted at 12.30 a.m. in the middle of Kurunagala City for speeding. I had to return to Kurunagala to pay the fine and retrieve my driver’s license, which we made into another family Road Trip and visited Anuradhapua, too.

One major problem a driver who returned from abroad faces in Sri Lanka is the changes made to the traffic flow and the roads. In most developed countries it’s no big deal to drive through a strange city because the bold road signs give proper guidance. In Sri Lanka, it’s not easy to know which is the one way and which is not. You have to check before you enter one particular road which way the others are driving. Then you follow. In the night, it’s a different story because you get to know quite late because of the absence of traffic. And you learn it the hard way being fined.

Even my fellow blogger Jayya had very recently written about an incident he had faced in Sri lanka where he reversed his car all the way out of a one way street. As he accuses, we have a method of baiting and lying in wait to bust when the law is broken. They don’t seem to believe in warning people not to break the law in the first place. 

If you want to drive in a Sri Lankan City, you need to case the joint first. You have to make a full survey and study about the traffic flow, the streets and the works, first by walking, or taking a bus or a taxi or being driven around by someone else. Then only you should attempt the feat yourself.

Some people I know never drive in Colombo. They leave the vehicles with a friend or relative in the suburbs and take the bus into the city. All this because they can’t cope with the Colombo city traffic regulations.

One vacation, on a weekend I was driving with my family in a Colombo street. I came from Kollupitiya along Dharmapala Mawatha swung right at the roundabout near the War Memorial and on to the public library street street. This used to be a dual carriageway. We had planned to visit the Girl Guide Headquarters Building which was a popular venue for various bargain sales throughout the year. As this was situated opposite the library I had to drive all the way to the next roundabout and return.

So, I drove down to this Green Path roundabout and made the 180˚ turn and tried to enter opposite lane of the road I came when I noticed some vehicles were coming on that lane heading towards me on the wrong side. I realized something was wrong and continued till I was blocked by the traffic cones. 

I hadn’t realized that they had made this a one way street because it was the weekend and there were no traffic on that lane for me to see. I looked for a gap between the cones and steered towards it so that I can make another swing and enter Green Path. Then I heard the ear piercing police whistle. There was the traffic cop standing patiently near that statue near that unused library gate.  He waved at me as if waving to his best friend. I steered through the cones and drove near him.

“Park the vehicle over there and come with the documents, sir” the cop said kindly.

I parked and stepped out with the documents, the typical Sri Lankan way.

Even my son followed me to taste a new experience live which he gets everyday on Need for Speed. 

The cop was dark skinned Dude just like me. He welcomed me with a broad smile.

“Ooo a very fair skinned gentleman, just like me. Come on over, sir”

I couldn’t believe my ears. He looked at my son and asked, “Is this your son, sir?” I said yes.

Then he said very lovingly.

“Son, you go and sit in the van. I’ll have a chat with your dad and send him back in ASAP!” Amused he returned to the vehicle.

“You and I both are the handsome dudes of the same skin tone!” The jovial cop said, laughing. I was wondering what the hell this cop was up to.

“Where on earth you were going over there?”

“Officer, I didn’t know it was a one way street.”

“Why sir, it was published on the newspapers. It has been a one way for some time now. Are you new in Colombo?”

I avoid mentioning that we work abroad because we believe if we do so everything would be overcharged, including the fines. People seem to believe that we are on the gravy train. Only we know the bitter truth behind.

“Do you accept that you committed an offense.”

“Well officer, do I have a choice?”

“Come on sir, don’t say like that.”

“I didn’t know it was a one way street.”

“Why my dear sir, didn’t you see those traffic cones?”

I had never met any other police officer who talked like that. This was quite contrary to what most of us had experienced. So I also made some extra enthusiasm in talking to him. Still a doubt was lurking in my mind about his unusual approach. After some time he asked me if I wasn’t working abroad.

I pleaded guilty.

“Which country is that, sir?”

I told him which.

“Ah. Your president was here last month.”

I lost my composure for a moment.

“Look Officer, that is not our president. My president is the same one as yours. We are Sri Lankans, though we work there.”

I got a bit angry because I felt the same hurt I feel when our friends and relatives make such remarks to the effect that we are no longer citizens here making us lose our identity that we cherish so much. The cop loved my attitude. He said it never occurred to him that I would be hurt to hear him say so.

“Ok, sir, most of the people who return from abroad circle that roundabout just like you did.” The cop laughed.

“No doubt about that, ‘cos there’s no way to know. No signboard, nothing!!” I said.

“Ok then. What do you prefer? A court case of a spot fine?”

“A spot fine is much better.”

“Ok then a spot fine.” He opened his book.

“How big a fine?”

I was flabbergasted. I gaped. He was smiling enjoying himself.

“How should I know that, officer?”

“You and I being handsome dudes of the same complexion...How can I say it?” “If you think so you can let me go without a fine.” I said with raised hopes.

“No, no let’s have a verrry small fine… as a good luck charm.” 

He opened the clip of the pen and got ready to book me.

“How small?”

He pouted his mouth.”Oooh  what about five hundred rupees?”

“Five hundred rupees isn’t a small fine.” I protested. “You do anything you want.”

He closed the clip of the pen with a snap, shut the book, too  and looked at the van.

 “Is that your wife and the kid in the van?”

I said yes.

“So you are going shopping?”

“Yes, we have an idea like that.”

“Okay sir. You are my fair skinned mate. You can go.”

“What?” I thought but didn’t say it.

“Okay sir, then you can go. Drive carefully. You know sir, so many dudes who return  from abroad, go around that roundabout, ha.. ha!!. Okay, then, God Bless You!”

I thanked, shook hands and walked to my van. I started the engine and drove along the boulevard behind the Viharamahadhevi Park and swung around the roundabout at the very end near the Horton Place. 

When I was driving past him on the opposite lane, now to enter Green Path he was questioning another driver. I tapped on the horn. He looked, gave me abroad grin and wave  before he returned to the new dude.