COMMON MAN HAS NO PLACE

We had reached our destination after a long drive of three hours. The density of traffic is so high that one has to be vigilant each moment. We had set out to attend the funeral of our uncle who had passed away at the age of 105. We used to drop in and spend some time with him whenever we were passing through the area. We were sad that he had departed for his heavenly abode. He had been jovial all the time. Our visits had always prompted him to crack jokes. He had enjoyed our visits and we were all having a good time together.  At the age of 104 he had showed indications that he was losing his bearings. There had been a memory lapse. He had found it difficult to identify the people he was meeting. We had been to his place two months ago and we could understand that he was slowly withering away.

The funeral service was on as we reached the residence. There was a big crowd of mourners. The place was a few Kilometers off the State Highway. Vehicles were parked at both sides of the road adjacent to the house. Two cars could easily pass through the constricted space left on the road. Unfortunately two issues had cropped up as we reached a few yards from the house. One, the road was blocked by a truck in front of our car. Two, the truck was blocking a ministerial convoy. Of course the government has priority over everything else in the state. Funeral or not the minister who is the government cannot afford to while away his time due to parking of the vehicles on both sides of the road and consequent blockage of traffic on the appearance  of a truck from nowhere. The pilot car must have radioed for assistance to ensure passage of the minister through the spot. As we had stopped our car behind the truck, we observed a large posse of police closing in. They were ordering the truck and all the vehicles that had queued behind  to reverse to a point that would let the ministerial convoy  forge ahead.

There were senior Police Officers and a large number of Policemen to direct the reverse traffic. They were all very polite and courteous. They helped me park my vehicle in the courtyard of a house so that the truck could be moved out of the way of the minister. I really admired the manner in which they were handling a difficult situation. The ministerial convoy moved on and the Police left the scene with the heave of a sigh.

Though the force was polite and courteous, the over zealousness of an official junior in rank left me wondering why behavioral science is not administered in all seriousness in  the training college. He was not at all impolite.  But he seemed out of place among the rest, who were excellent taskmasters at once polite and courteous.