Traffic Policeman: The Untold Heartrending Story, Runner Up, Wordism S3, Jestha

He was 18 years old when he left his studies and ran away from home to join Nepal Police. In his 21-years long journey of serving the nation, he just managed to get two promotions-Police Constable to Police Head Constable and from Police Head Constable to Assistant Sub-Inspector of Police (ASI). He worked in the traffic management of various major places inside Kathmandu Valley. Since my father was a policeman, I grew up with policemen. I gave my SEE from Nepal Police School which is also a police school. My childhood holidays used to be spent with his juniors. Whether it was Saturday, a public holiday or a weekend long holiday from school, my father would always take me to his office where other police uncles would take care of me.

I remember a police uncle taking me round Ranipokhari on a bicycle early morning when my father’s posting was at Metropolitan Police Office, Ranipokhari. I was made seated on the crossbar of the bicycle so that I could enjoy the frontal view. And in the afternoon, he would take me inside Ranipokhari carrying me on his shoulders. I would throw pellets in the pond and fishes would battle with themselves to eat the food.

I also remember staying at Lalitpur Police Range, Jawalakhel. Here also, other police uncles would bath me, take me inside the zoo, buy pink sugar candies for me. I always wished to play slide and swing inside the zoo. And the uncle would constantly push me on the swing. He was so alert about my safety that he would hold me from my back when I would slide down the slide. They were so humble and loving to me. When my dad’s posting was at Naagdhunga, I would always go with my father at check-point. At night, I would watch “Kaun Banega Crorepati” and Hindi movies on television with other police uncles in the office. And when dad returned finshing his turn, I would go to sleep with him.

One day, when I was at my uncle’s house, I saw my uncle keeping a gun in the cupboard. I asked him if I could carry it in my hand. He laughed and said, “What if you shoot me?” I insisted to allow to me to hold the gun. Eventually, he agreed. Putting the gun on the table, he said, “Okay, lift it.” I forwarded my hand to lift it. That day, I got to know how heavy a gun really is. I couldn’t lift it normally, rather the muzzle always faced downwards. Seeing this, my uncle giggled and took the gun. When we came back home, I said to my mom, “Mom, I want police dress and a gun.” I repeatedly asked her. At night, she talked about this to dad.

Next day, dad took me to Taalim Kendra, Maharajgunj where police uniform is sewed. The tailor took the necessary measurements. Two days later, dad brought the uniform and a toy gun. Extremely happy, I jumped over him. Dressed in police uniform, holding a toy gun in my hand, I was looking like a real child police. After that day, I always wore that dress. Whenever people would see me, they would inquire, “Oh, so do you want to be a police officer in future?” “Yes”, I would reply. I was feeling so contented wearing that uniform.

As I said earlier, I studied at a police school. Even there, all the school staffs were policemen. So, I grew up with policemen. I grew up seeing them struggle in streets. I grew up seeing their discipline and sacrifice. I grew up seeing their kindness, honesty and selflessness. Maybe this is the reason why my blood boils when someone curses police. I become barbarous when I hear someone maligning police. Whenever the drivers in the micros curse police for fining them or the passengers give catty comments on traffic police, I feel like yelling at them and giving them lecture about the sacrifice of the police. Whenever they say something bad about the police, I feel like they are cursing my father, my school and most importantly, my childhood. But I laugh at them. I laugh at their foolishness. I would like to call such people “ignoramus”.

One day, as I was returning from my college, at Lekhnath-Samakhusi junction, there was no traffic policeman. The policeman had probably gone somewhere. Due to his absence, there was a haphazard movement of vehicles that had resulted traffic jam. Seeing no traffic policeman and stuck in traffic, the driver of my micro cursed the traffic policeman, “Where did the bastard go? Where is that asshole? Doesn’t he have to control the traffic? Because of that son of a bitch, traffic jam has occurred.” Blabbering these all nasty things, he kept pressing the horn which was worthless. I felt pity for that driver’s act. I wanted to question that driver, “See, what happens when there’s no traffic policeman. Don’t you know how to respect someone? Those guys stand in the scorching sun, in the rain, in the wind, for whom? For you, for us, don’t they? If you need them, if you get into trouble in their absence then why on earth, do you take them as your enemies? Why do you curse them for no reason?”

A few months later after that incident, when I was going to my college, traffic policeman stopped the bus at Jamal and started arguing with the driver. The policeman was saying that he had to charge him for breaking the traffic rule. Then few passengers inside the bus began cursing the policeman as they were getting late for their work. One lady said, “These traffic policemen are corrupted. They are exploiters. They only want to engulf money of poor people (indicating drivers and conductors). They won’t let others earn.” Other old man added, “Greedy thieves.” I was in dilemma whether I should laugh or become angry at their pathetic thinking. Why on Earth they don’t realize the fact that the driver was charged for committing a mistake? Why their rotten mind doesn’t understand that that policeman was doing his duty?

Suddenly I remembered how Nepal Police had rescued people during Gorkha Earthquake and subsequently, I remembered innocent policemen who were ruthlessly killed at Tikapur. Ha! I live in a country where the people who put their life in danger to rescue other people during catastrophes are burnt alive, stabbed and cheated.

I can’t even imagine how many problems the policemen have to face. They get hit on their heads by stones and bricks during strikes and bandhs. They are made to stand for hours in the roadside in the name of giving security for safe traveling of political leaders. They get shot by criminals during the shootouts. They put their life in danger to save others.

I remember my dad going into the nose operation few years ago because his nose was severely infected due to dust which had been collected over years. I am proud of my dad. I am proud for what he has been doing. I am proud of every traffic police officer in the country. I salute them!

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