Bombay dreams, Gulfie nightmares

MUMBAI: The cop at the airport could’ve been an ‘extra’ in any Hindi film — yes, he was that caricatural. The language and attitude were pure, unadulterated ‘Bambaiya’. The cop’s victim was a ‘Gulfie’ (single male working in UAE). He was wheeling two innocuous looking suitcases on his trolley. His paperwork must have been fine, since he had made it past the immigration and baggage areas and was waiting to exit.‘‘Give me 100 rials,’’ the cop demanded. The man shrugged helplessly. No rials, only dirhams. The cop glared. ‘‘No, dollars?’’ he asked. The victim confessed, ‘‘No dollars.’’ Just then, a local businessman slid past. But not before slipping a bottle of Scotch to the menacing cop and winking conspiratorially. ‘‘Salaam, saab,’’ the cop saluted smartly.
The Gulfie was watching this, looking miserable. There were officials hovering around. We had all been subjected to a silly SARS exercise (a form asking foolish questions). The cop cursed the Gulfie using choice abuses and told him he’d be detained for four...six...eight hours, if he didn’t or couldn’t pay up. It was 4.30 a.m. and my nerves were jangling. I intervened. The copy snarled, ‘‘What goes of your father’s? This is dhanda. Between him and me. Mind your own business.’’ I hate to admit this, but at that point I walked away. Three restless children (mine!) were glaring. Anything else would have led to an instant mutiny.
This is it. This is Mumbai. This is India. And it hardly matters that clean-up operations are being undertaken at the macro level (the recent MPSC scam, is a case in point). At the micro, micro level nothing has changed. And isn’t likely to. Metaphorically speaking, I’ve seen the same cop doing the same thing to the same man for two decades and more. I’ve seen sloth and worse at every entry point to our nation. As they say in television lingo...the story continues.
Compare this to something I heard in Dubai. It was narrated to me by a smart, sharp mediaman from Ahmedabad who is currently making big waves in the UAE. His European girlfriend had pulled off the highway to fix a puncture. She had had a glass or two of wine earlier, but was far from drunk. Within minutes, a cop car drove up, smelt her breath and hauled her off to the clink, where she cooled her heels for three months. Compare that to the Indian scenario where movie stars and business brats escape with nominal fines after mowing down innocents. God help anyone who hits a straying camel in UAE. A camel.
Somehow, everything seems to work in that unreal mirage in the desert, making it a world class destination with one of the lowest crime rates. Nobody dares misbehave,not even the ‘Night Butterflies’ from the former USSR who ply their trade with legit papers to protect them. I was told with undisguised pride that most of our notorious dons conduct respectable businesses in Dubai without any hanky-panky involved. One false move and khallas. That’s how it should be. And can be, even here. Sadly, we lack the will. Worse, we’ve accepted corruption as a way of life.
I wonder what happened to that untutored Gulfie? Is he still at the airport? Did the cop finally lose his patience and let him go after raiding his suitcases? Was he forced to hand over his watch/ gold chain/ bracelet? Or was he smart enough to create such a big noise that the cop was compelled to drive him away? That’s the simple part. What if the Gulfie was not just a Gulfie but a member of some terrorist group? Imagine the price we would have to pay — a whole lot more than the 100 rials demanded from him, that’s for sure. That’s what Mumbai sells for these days.