What Security?

The policemen stood in a file. The sign said- Suraksha Jaanch Hudai Cha (Security Check Going-on). My brother clutched at the brakes. The policeman nearest to us, asked my brother what he had in his bag. Art books, he said, instead of flaunting his press pass. His books on sketching and sculpting were brought out.

After entertaining a long look, I prompted myself to ask if he wanted to check my bag.

Lipstick ta hola ni, he said. Must be only lipstick. Janus. Go.

As my brother rode us away, I said lipstick chaina. My bag rarely accomodates cosmetics. But I smiled at the thought that the policeman had thought of me as a woman. I found his sexist remark flattering.

During my teenage years, I always had a problem convincing my male friends I was a girl. With my boy-short hair and the willingness to sit on the pavements any time, they always thought of me as one of them. Many times, I had wished they thought of me like they did about the others- like a girl. But the policeman thought I looked like a woman!

Sexist!

I actually think of the "suraksha jaanch" policemen as a breed, who stand on the streets, nights, getting tortured and torturing unnecessarily, while letting go of the wrong people.

They never check a car that says PRESS. How do they know the cars do not need security checking? Whenever (which is always) they let our office vehicle pass without security check, I feel like requesting them to check every car that reads PRESS including our own. I also feel like asking them "whose security"?