I have; on the last weekend
evening. He probably must be a bit older than my son. I have not had such
an encounter with any policeman like this before. I have noticed many policemen
who stop two wheeler riders and look for defaults to show of writing a bill and
take money and never write bill or hand it over; or talk about a heavy fine for
a silly matter and bargain for a bribe to let go off the fine; I have seen
cops, taking away apples and pomegranates filling into their plastic carry bags
for penalizing the poor men and women sitting’ illegally’ on the road side of
Thirumangalam - Ambattur road in Chennai; or taking even a twenty rupees note
from an auto rickshaw driver who pause before the hospital on the Poonamalee
High road a few meters away from the Kilpauk traffic police station.
I dare not to list any more for
I may ultimately forget talking about this strange policeman whom I met for the
first time on a Friday evening in Nellore RTC bus stand, on my way back from
work, heading towards our ‘temporary’ home in Chennai. He was
indifferently different, decent and calm without much emotional expressions on
his face!
It was a very quick to respond
time. And I noticed him quite cool for more than an hour and a half when we had
to travel together. Before he could leave me, I opened my mobile phone and
asked him to dial his number, gave him a ring and then saved it. Soon after I
jumped into the Thiruppathi-born coloured APSRTC bus where we both got down, I
sent him a message on to his mobile. I wished I had taken a picture of him; he
had already taken mine. When I checked on WhatsAap, I could locate
him and see his picture! This is what I scribbled on my phone quickly and sent
him:
"My dear Sir, Hats off to
you! I should not wait too long to thank you for your great help. You turned to
be an angel to me this evening. I could not reward you more than anything that
of a hug. I would ever be grateful to you and to God for you, your parents, and
your leaders who trained you up. I have a story to tell of this experience and
your timely help. Almighty God bless you, your career and your family. See you
soon sometime. Your dear friend, Philipose Vaidyar".
You may be wondering what really
happened! It was about 6:35 pm when reached the bus stand to get
back home for the weekend. Bus route number ‘103’, painted with green stripes
was obviously to Chennai. I could read the bus board in Tamil as I always loved
other languages especially Tamil even many years before I came to Chennai and
someone told me, Tamil is supposed to be the mother of all languages!. Usually
buses from Nellore to Chennai will have English board as well. The short, bus
conductor in strange dark kakhi uniform was around though the bus was
almost empty. I asked him, "Does this bus go by 7:00 pm? I knew there was
a bus to Chennai by that time. He said, “yes”, and I had enough time to get
small parcel for food. I rushed to the restaurant, and ordered a parcel
of idlies, the tiffin available any time anywhere the region. It was not
because I loved idly all the time. The journey is almost four and half hours
and the operators were fond of a regular stoppage where idlies did not seem
that safer food next to the maida made chappattis that did prefer either. For
me, when I eat, was more important than what I should eat.
I had 20 minutes of time unlike
last time when I preferred to buy a packet of biscuits and a tetra pack fruit
juice. This time I thought a couple of idlis will do good for my stomach though
I do not really eat for mouth. As I prefer to eat to live, other than living to
eat, it did not matter me much. But guy at the restaurant took much time
to deliver it to me but I still had 15 minutes. I was telling him, that I need
to go by bus. Now when I turned back I could see new green LED
lights glowing ‘Chennai’ and it is on the next bus, same
green. My bus was gone. But what is there to worry about a bus just missed !? I
came running, enquired about the other bus to the conductor I saw earlier in
blue dark and light uniform. He coolly said, “the bus left, it was the 6:45
bus!” He tells me, it was his bus that would leave by 7:00 pm. Why should
I worry so much? My cabin sized suitcase, with my lap top, good working though
nine years old, enough stuff for a week's travel, and a backpack with full of
personal documents and original ID cards were inside the bus!. I ran out to the
direction the bus would have gone.
I did not speak much Telugu, as
it was just less than two months in this location. I saw a bike coming out of
the bus stand. I stopped him and asked if he could help me follow the bus. He
advised me in Telugu to take an auto and follow as I can catch it before it
will reach the highway. I found yet another bus of Andhra Pradesh leaving and
I thought the police man who was getting inside could help me somehow.
Probably by calling the cops on duty at some traffic signal point and stop the
bus. The old policeman responded something that I really did not follow. I
understood one thing, he sounded helpless and he was asking me how he could
help me. If I knew that I would not have run to him.
It was getting late. I knew I
cannot waste time now. I saw one more young police man getting into the bus
that would leave soon. I decided to run back to the spot. There was yet another
policeman with a Walkie-talkie in his back pocket, boarding the 7:00 pm bus. I
called him for help: he was quite calm. I spoke to him in the Tamil
I was I heard many people in Nellore follow Tamil. But knowing me he responded
in English. But it was very slowly and just few words. I wanted to know what he
could do to retrieve my baggage. But I dared not. I was praying within watching
carefully his responses. He came down and checked with the conductor
if he could get the phone number of the one who left. I thought the conductor
felt it too silly.
I expected the police would take
his walkie-talkie and call some police on the way to stop the bus. But he took
his mobile phone and whispered something to someone. I was curious to know his
strategy but kept watching him. He asked me to follow him. He negotiated with
the driver of the Thirupathi bus already began to move. Finally, he asked me
get in and he got in too. The bus was full, but the conductor helped sit on the
tiny foldable seat near the doorway. The policeman also had got a regular seat
in the front. I continued to search on my mobile for contact numbers of the bus
depot at Ponneri, where the bus had belong as told by the other
conductor. But it was in vein. The policeman responded to me after
my long wait, “We can get the bags. I will ask my friend to collect it
from the bus. But it will be after an hour!” My God, one hour ? What
all can happen to the bag on the seat?
By the time the policeman asking
me details about the bags. The suit case was grey-black, and on the luggage
spot just above the seat. The back-pack too was grey in colour and it was left
on the second row of the seats on the window side, behind the
doorway. He kept scribbling on his phone. He then said, he will take
a picture too for the one who collect the bags to recognize me. In the meantime
there arose an argument between the bus operators and a passenger. It seemed
that the passenger had requested a concession for which he had to show an ID
proof. He had one, issued by the government on some service scheme. But the
driver insister that he should have an Aadhar card. Unlike in
Kerala or Tamil Nadu, here the driver was acting more authoritative. They did
not bunch even a little and finally the passenger alighted. The conductor asked
me to go and sit on that seat. I said I will stand. But the policeman advised
me to go over and sit as it would take certainly more than one hour. He told
me, “I have asked someone to collect the bags at the toll plaza”. Hesitantly I
went behind and sat. A little while the conductor had come and issued me ticket
for Rs.95 to Naidupetta and collected the 100 rupee note. The idly packet is
swinging from my hand as I was holding to the cross bar in front of me.
Everything, because of this idly, I thought. But I was praying as the bus was
in full speed on the highway. Almost 45 minutes gone, you won’t know how I
could sit in the bus calmly. The policeman is calmly watching the TV behind the
driver’s cabin.
There comes the toll plaza. I
went up to the front, ready to get out. But the police friend told me, “not
this, the next toll plaza”. I had to sit again. It was one hour by now. The
second toll plaza had come, and I am there near the policeman. He told me, “the
bags are collected but I asked him to stay after the toll plaza on the
highway”.
By now I had gained strength to
ask him, “Sir, will you have to go all the way back?”
“No, I have to attend a meeting
here on the way at Ozli. My duty is there and it
still belonged to the Nellore Police station area!”.
I
had gone back to my seat. I had finally decided to call my wife and inform what
had happened expecting her too to pray, though I had the faith deep down in my
heart that I will not miss the baggage. Ozli was approaching. Now he turned
back to me and nodded, no way I could miss noticing him. The bus was
approaching a bus stop on the highway. It was a small junction. There in the
headlight of the bus I could see a young man holding my grey backpack and the
suitcase beside him. Mr. D.S. Vijay Kumar, the police constable had also
advised to check the bag for my belongings. The bus stopped and both of us were
soon out on the road. I shook the hand of the young man who was holding my bag,
quickly opened the front of the hag and pushed the packet of idlies and looked
for my hand bag with all my ids in the main section. It is there! “Shall I
continue on the same bus?”, I asked him. “Yah, better not to lose time” he
suggested. I had no words of gratitude to express. I flung my arms
wide and gave him a tight hug before I could get back on board.
As I was thinking on, seated in
the bus, how difficult it would have been if otherwise, the policeman texts me
back, “Thank you for providing me a chance to serve”.
Was he not really an angel to me
at that point of time send in by the Lord Almighty? How could I meet him on
that moment when he was boarding a bus? Was it not a perfect timing ordained by
the good Lord? Can I also consider this as a greater reward, as promised by the
Lord, “You will be given by the same measure you use; hard pressed and
overflowing?
philjy@gmail.com
The fishermen are called Machikarulu, both the Tamil speakers who
are about 300 families and the Telugu speakers who will come to over 1,000
households. Yenadi and Yerukula are tribesmen who live in 7 villages and one
village respectively. Mathikas and Malas are part of Scheduled castes; Yadavas,
Pathmasali, Gowdas, and Chakili are considered to be backward classes. They are
the working class and labourers. Reddys and Komutulu (Vaisya) are well-to-do
families. Reddys are landowners and agriculturists while Komutulus are the
business people. Brahmins are called Archakulu and constitute about 50 families
only. Though each of them has a traditional job of their own, most of the BC
and SC people are wage earners. 
