You talking about Pakistan ???
That third world terrorist country where they treat sheeps sameway as they treat women ? Oh may God, what a hell.
BIG TICKET: Crime Smalltime
BIG TICKET: Crime Smalltime -DAWN Magazine; October 12, 2008
(Dated Oct 12, 2008)
You keep saying the police should do their work! But when they do, you say why are they doing their work!
I was near an intersection and the traffic signal had just turned ochre. There were quite a few cars behind mine.
After all, that’s how it is! But then, my car brakes had recently developed a problem causing them to skid. So, instead of a sudden stop, I speeded up to get across, but the signal had already turned red. I managed to get across safe and sound. Suddenly, a police car came from behind, beckoning me to pull over.
“Oops!” I was confident. Well, I’d been pretty good at talking myself out of such situations. It was 9:30pm and the holy month of Ramazan hadn’t ended. I told the policeman the story related to my brakes and said, “I had to do it to avoid a skid!” But he didn’t buy that. So, I started another… “You see, I’ve come back to Islamabad after two years and there was never a signal at this point.” He didn’t buy that one either.
He said politely, “You can see a signal light from a long distance! Show me your licence!” I showed him my recently acquired computerised driving licence obtained from Karachi. He kept it and gave me a ticket worth Rs500. “He mumbled something about paying up at any National Bank and then getting the licence from Khana Chauki… I drove off into the darkness, all my euphoria of my lovely iftar dinner with a friend at Islamabad club vanished into thin air.
“How will I do all this?” I asked.
“Don’t worry. I know how to do it all. I was with papa when he went through it last week,” said my daughter. And I remembered my husband having had a similar experience.
“Well, you keep saying the police should do their work! When they do you say why are they doing their work,” said my daughter.
Next day we got up all set for our ‘adventure’. The crossing at Zero Point is different too. Anyhow, my daughter guided me to the National Bank at Aabpara. She told me the policeman had been wrong, its not ‘any’ National Bank, its one particular bank in Islamabad. And it’s at Aabpara. But to park our car there was a nightmare. I finally parked, but a driver said my car could be picked up by traffic police. He pointed to a row of cars across, where I finally found a place to park.
We entered the bank. It was packed with people. I hate crowds and started looking for oxygen, while my daughter said, “The place stinks.” I told her to stop putting her dupatta on her nose.
But some sweet men looked at us and offered us to go to the front of the line. The man at the counter immediately obliged us. We were outside the bank within minutes.
“Don’t you dare call them stinky men ever. The sweet men gave us their turn to help us. Where in the world would you find men like these? They are absolute gems!”
Back to the road crossing with the scary traffic, and we were in our car. Now where? The police chauki. Well, my well-informed daughter Waliya, had it all clear. She guided me to the police chauki which was near Zero Point. We trekked down a path that I loved, as I love trekking. There, too, some men allowed us to cut the line. But to our surprise the policeman told me my licence was at another police post. As it turned out, my husband had probably got his ticket near that post. I got it elsewhere. Now I had to find the way to it.
By now it had become hot. Thank goodness my car had air-conditioning. We had nothing better to do. This whole operation took a lot of time. Paying up for a ticket and getting the licence back is a full day assignment!
Finding Khana Chauki was another story. It’s next to the Faizabad Chauk on the National Highway on the right side of the road, if you are going towards the airport. So you’re left with no choice but to take a U-turn. As we stopped at the red light I asked a beggar where Khana Chauki was. A young man in the car said, “I’ll tell you, just follow me.” I gratefully followed him.
But it turned out, I followed him too far. Now what? I couldn’t do the whole round all over again. So, I got into a cordoned off portion of the under-construction road and reversed about 200 yards between stones to the point nearest the chauki.
We parked our car right in the middle of the road and crossed the road towards Police chauki next to the highway. We were the only women among all the male drivers who were there to collect their licences.
As usual, all the gents asked us to go inside the office and get our work done before them. Gosh, all Pakistani men are so good to women. Anyhow, we were back with my licence within minutes.
I shall never go through the red light again!