Tales of Two Traffic Wardens

A red Benz sedan was parked in the portico of Muscat International Airport's arrival hall.  It was early 2000s, the airport was much smaller than what it is now.  The car was blocking traffic, arriving passengers, and the rest.  It was not helpful, and illegal.  A young traffic warden came and looked for the owner for a few minutes.  Stood there, scratched his head, walked around and around.  There were no takers.  The frustrated traffic warden pulled his 'Chalan' booklet, wrote a ticket, put it under the wiper and walked away.

My guests haven't arrived, so, I continued to loiter.

There came a man with a cigar in his mouth.  He looked at the ticket and was offended.  Now, he was looking all over, and finally located the traffic warden.  Clapped at the warden and summoned him to the car.  A conversation ensued, the warden looking at the ground as if he had sinned, and the man with a cigar lecturing in a low,but stern voice.  There was hardly any response from the traffic warden.  Finally after five minutes of scolding, the warden pulled the ticket out and tore it up.  The smoker got into the car and drove away.

Those of you unfamiliar with Oman's power structure, there are families, who have enormous informal power over the others.  The Royal family is of course on top, and then depending on their relationships with or recognition by the Royals, varying degrees of power prevail.  I suspect that the smoker is in one of these circles of power, not very close to the Royals, but not very far from them either.  Else, no one would dare challenging  member of the ROP, Royal Oman Police.  That was Tale One.

Tale two.  In 1981, when Mrs Indira Gandhi was the PM of India, her car was  parked 'illegally'.  A young female traffic warden - later became the most decorated female police officer in India  todate - had the car towed away.  The traffic warden is Kiren Bedi, a prominent advocate for transparency in Government.  Despite all it flaws and its lurch towards development, there is something in India which gives hope.

Kiren Bedi is a symbol of such hope.

Sam & Faraq - A Sri Lankan meets an Egyptian

Let me introduce Sam.  That's me.  When someone wants to know my name, and I am sure that the relationship is temporary, I spare them the agony of learning my name - Prathapar.  In 2004, I was in Cairo attending a workshop.  The very first day, after the workshop, I wanted to hit the town.  As I walked outside the hotel, a man approached me and asked if I needed a Taxi.  I said yes, and asked for his name.  He said he is Faraq.  So, now you know who we are and what our relationship was.  It was a five day relationship, and that was brief.

I negotiated a price with Faraq to take me into town and return, and at the end of the trip, he took his money, and asked if I need to see the Pyramids.  I said yes of course, and he agreed on a price and time for us to meet next day, which was a holiday.  He showed up on time, drove to the point where Nile diverges, and then off to the touristic area.  There he introduced a man, who had offered to take me on a camel into the tourist park.  I made a mistake, I did not agree on a price.

The Camel owner walked along me on the camel, did the right things like photos and sphinx and pyramids, tombs and so on, and when the trip finished after about three hours, he asked for money, more than what a regular tourist company would asked.  Faraq was watching.  I knew the demand was too high, but I was not in a position to argue.  Too late.  I paid him, Faraq went with him and came back, when I realized that Faraq too had a cut in it.

Now I am really upset, but again, I had no way of confronting Faraq.  Instead I told him, that I feel that the Camel owner has cheated me, and Faraq should not take tourists to the Camel owner.  Faraq was quiet and listening.  In my mind, I have decided not to hire Faraq anymore.  When we reached the hotel I paid his dues agreed, and was about to go into the hotel.  Faraq called me, "Sam", and I stopped.  "How about this afternoon?", he asked in a feint voice, and I said , 'don't worry'.  Then he insisted that he likes to take me around, and agreed for a reasonable fare.  I did have the afternoon free, and needed a Taxi, and the fare was reasonable.

Faraq showed up promptly, and we toured all over Cairo, waited where he had to, told me to pretend to be a Muslim when walking int old mosques, so I need not pay entrance fee, took me to the joints where taxi drivers hang out for a snack - good food-cheap price - and it was fun.  Then I told him that I would like to go to a night club.

In Egypt night clubs open at mid night, and go on till early hours.  He took me to one, and negotiated a price for me and him with the owner, and it was reasonable.  The price included entrance fee, couple of beers, and dinner for both.  The club had a number of music troupes performing an hour each, and each one was different.  One of them was a male only, drum only band.  Beer, music, food and Faraq was really happy.  So was I, although the smoke started to bother me.  Around 3 AM I told Faraq that it was time to go.  He dropped me at the hotel, and we agreed that he will pick me up again next day afternoon.

There he was, and he said that he wanted me to visit his family.  I said fine, and after an hours drive, we were at his village.  He took me to his 'one room all in all house', and the wife was cooking.  She had no advance warning of this Sri Lankan visitor.  There was no electricity, firewood  smoking, the way it used to in our family kitchen some fifty years ago.  The food was simple, and ready.  We walked into his banana patch (a few trees well watered), there a few more joined in, a carpet was rolled out, and all of us sat and ate.  It was an unexplainable feeling.  I was in a peasant's backyard, eating his hard earned food.  But, I liked the whole thing.  It was about get dark, and then he said, why don't you come to a wedding in the neighborhood.  Me, the Sam, the ever curious could not resist the offer.

I have no idea where the couple were, and the party was on a back street.  Chairs were arranged in circles, men sat with their friends, and a local  band was singing.  I sat with Faraq's friends.  A man  brought room temperature beer, some one bought a six pack, I too bought another, and we started to drink.  Then I heard the band singing Sam something something.  At Faraq's instruction, the band was welcoming me!  I was called to the stage, I obliged, waved at all, and returned to the seat.  Suddenly I saw one of the men ripping tobacco out of cigarettes  and it raised my curiosity.  He then took a small plastic packet of Marijuana, mixed it with the tobacco, and started to roll the mix into cigars.  Well, I thought I better get out of there.  Told Faraq that I am feeling tired, Faraq and I said bye to all, and he dropped me back at the hotel.

The next day was the final day, Faraq was there to take me to the airport, and I needed a small hand bag for various souvenirs I bought.  Faraq took me to a travel bag maker, he bought me a sturdy well made bag for a very good price.

It was almost lunch time, and Faraq insisted that he should buy me lunch, because I had been paying for his meals for the past few days.  I said OK, we went to a cafe frequented by Taxi drivers.  It was not a street cafe, Faraq wanted to treat me well, and ordered a meal - a mixture of noodles and fried rice.  We had our lunch and were ready to head towards the airport.

Faraq asked if I needed to buy anything more.  I said, "No, my money is finished".  What I meant was that I am running out of Egyptian Schillings.  Faraq thought I had no money, and offered money from his dash board of his car.  I told him, that I meant Egyptian schillings, and since I am now leaving Cairo, I do not need it either.  He understood.  Faraq dropped me at the airport, I gave him whatever Shillings I had, a bit more than the taxi fare, he reluctantly accepted it.  We bid bye to each other.  A poor taxi driver, had shown me good times in Cairo.

I still wonder why he was nice to me?  Was it because I expressed my unhappiness with the Camel man and indirectly accused Faraq of dishonesty, and he wanted to show that he was a decent man?  Or was I a friendly customer, and Faraq was enjoying my company? I am sure Faraq is not doing this to all his customers.

I will never know why, but will never forget Faraq either.      

Memorable Air Travels

For a Jaffna boy born in the fifties, contemplation of air travel itself is something extraordinary.   I knew air travel is possible, but did not think about it much, and fancied it to a much lesser extent.  Travel within Sri Lanka is always by road or train.  I do however have a vague memory of going to an Airport when I was less than five to receive an aunt who was returning from India.

My first air travel eventuated in 1980, when I traveled from Colombo, Sri Lanka to Bryan-College Station, Texas, USA.  I got myself a pin-striped suit made for the travel.  Two of my uncles and a few friends came to the airport to see me off.  I could come out of the airport after checking-in to say bye to them.  The plane went from Colombo to Karachi, to Athens, to Amsterdam where we changed planes to travel to London.  I stayed over-night there and flew to Washington DC where I was a guest for a few days.  Then I flew to Houston, Texas via Jacksonville, Florida.  Finally, I flew from Houston to Bryan-College Station.  I think the reason for hop-scotching across Asia/Europe, was not the capacity of planes, but a lack of passengers.  A lot has changed since then, one could fly from Colombo to Europe, and then to Bryan-College Station without delays. 

The Boy who left Jaffna in 1980

Since it was my first air travel, I thought of collecting the boarding passes as souvenirs.  It did not take long to give up on that hobby.  During my days in the US, I traveled very cheaply by air.  A ticket from Houston to New Orleans cost me 27 dollars, and another from Houston to New York cost me about 50 dollars.  I had figured out that if I take late night fights, I could save money on air travel and hotels.

In 1987, when I migrated to Australia, I had to go from Sydney to Griffith, a sleepy Australian country-town, an hour away by air.  A friend dropped me at Sydney airport, I checked in my baggage, identified the boarding gate, and there were no one.  A few passengers gathered later, and the crew of two came along.  They told us to board the plane, probably a twenty seater, did a head count and took-off.  They were the days without security scares.

Griffith:  My Home from 1987-1996

In the 1990s, I had to travel from Canberra to Griffith in a four-seater plane, and my flight was to depart around 6:30 pm.  I was at the airport by 5 pm, and went to a coffee bar before departure.  As I sipped my coffee, I noticed two young men walking to me, both in their twenties, wearing flight jackets.  I looked up, and one of them asked if I was Prathapar.  I was dazed that someone in Canberra knew me by name.  I said, yes, and was waiting, not knowing what more to say.  One of them then said, 'Sir, when you finish your coffee, we can take off'.  I just fell off the chair, well almost.  I had two pilots waiting to fly me home, and willing to wait till I finish my coffee.  I felt VERY important, but did not want to keep the young men waiting.  So, gulped the coffee in a blink, and marched to the plane with my private pilots!

Griffith:  The land of fruits & wine

A few years later, I had to catch a 5:30 am flight from Griffith to Melbourne in a seven-seater plane.  My wife drove me to the airport around 5 am; we were expected to check in 20 minutes before departure.  As we approached the airport, the airport was dark, and we thought we were too early.  Then I saw a young woman rushing to our car, asking me if I was Prathapar, and I said yes.  She then ran to a public phone and called someone and within a few minutes, a plane landed for me to travel.  The plane had just taken-off from Griffith without me.  The departure time was changed, but I was not informed.  These were the days before smart phones.  I had a smug on my face relishing that a plane returned to pick me up, but I did notice the angst on my fellow passengers face.  

Flying into Central Asia and Caucuses had always been memorable to me.  I think it is largely because of the differences in bureaucratic processes from their Soviet era, and due to the difficulties in communication.  They hardly speak English, and I do not speak Russian. 

In 1999, I had to attend a meeting on a Monday in Tashkent, and the agency hosted me sent an invitation letter in Russian with the date corresponding to the Monday.  I submitted it to their Embassy in Islamabad to obtain my visa, and landed in Tashkent a day earlier, the Sunday, around noon.  In the visa, the Embassy has recorded the date of the meeting, and I have arrived 12 hours earlier before my visa could come into effect.  Despite the difficulties in communication, I conveyed to them my predicament, and they agreed to inform my host agency.  However, rules are rules, and I can’t be permitted to enter Tashkent without a visa for the day I have landed.  Consequently, I was DETAINED.

Samarkand:  The Home of Indian Mughal's Ancestors

A young soldier with a Kalashnikov escorted me in a full size 50-60 seater bus, to the detention center within the airport premises, probably a km away from the arrival lounge.  It was a very modern building, and one of the rooms was the detention center.  There were only two of us – my guard and me.  As we waited, I heard music coming from another room which doors were closed.  I asked the guard, what it was, and he smiled and said it’s a bar.  I tried to persuade him to go to the bar, he did not agree, but I started to walk.  He had no choice but to follow me.  The bar man opened the door; another man and a young girl were dancing to the music.  I sat on a very comfortable lounge, ordered vodka, and watched West-Indies playing Pakistan for 1999 Cricket World Cup on a very large plasma TV.  It was a pity that I was detained only for two hours or so, by when my host managed to come and rescue me. 

Mirzo Ulugbek:  A 15th Century Astronomer & Mathematician 

Again in 1999, I had to attend a meeting at Tbilisi, Georgia.  When I landed, I heard someone calling me by name within the Business Class.  My organizers have sent a Guide to take me from the plane to the hotel.  He spoke in very good English, and said he was a University Lecturer.  He collected my passport, and as we came down the stairwell (there were no air-bridge then), there was a Volvo Limousine on the tarmac for me and I was driven to the hotel.  My luggage and the passport were delivered later.  Very nice!

But the best of all was when I was a member of a University delegation led by the Vice Chancellor.  A fellow member of the delegation was from the Royal Family.  During the entire travel in Europe, I was reminded of a Tamil adage, which loosely translates into, “when rice is irrigated, the weed too gets water”.  Yes, the Royal Family member was the rice receiving the protocol she was entitled to, and I was one of the weeds, benefiting from the hospitality wherever we went.  We always flew First Class in Emirates, which offered a suite with a full-size bed, private mini bar and on-demand menu full of exquisite food and wine.  When we landed in Dubai, we were taken from the plane through its emergency exit by a limousine to a very private lounge- just for our delegation.  It was better than the first class lounge, I bet.  I do not think, I will ever enjoy a flight like that.

Sultan Qaboos University of Oman

Emirates Airbus 380 - The First Class is pure luxury

Because of airplanes and air travels, I was able to visit at least forty countries around the world.  I haven’t been to Southern America yet.  May be one day I will go there.  Having said so, nowadays, I am a bit averse to flying.  Fortunately in my current job, my flights are short duration ones, a maximum of two hours.  I do not have to catch flights in the middle of the night and do not have to land in unusual places at awkward times. 

Work, Travel and Retirement

I am not sure what my life is all about.  I am in a different country every week, often in a different continent.  My passport was not with me till the 18th Jan,but since then, I had been to Italy and Ethiopia, and within the next six weeks, I will go to Jordan, Sri Lanka, India, then to Bangladesh, South Africa, Italy, back to India and Nepal.  Then one week in Delhi, two weeks in Sri Lanka, and back to India.  Its all about my work, a real jet setting life style.

Of all these places I will go to, I am really looking forward to my travel to South Africa and Jordan.  I had neve been to the countries, and I dowant to visit them.  In particular, I want to float in the dead sea, and peek at Israel.  Although I am not a big fan of Israel, I do admire them or their tenacity.  Despite all odds, they have money and power on their side, and after all they only fight an unorganised, self centered, self serving opposition.  I am not sure what will excite me in South Africa, but, I must visit a Museum, a township and a irrigation scheme.

Does all this travel means my job is that important, and makes a big difference to others.  I am not so sure.  It is all about what I WANT to achieve in my job.  I WANT things in a certain way, my way.  That means I better travel.

One of my friends once asked, what makes you think that you can CHANGE the way things are.  He has seen me failing at least twice in my career, trying to change but fail.  Yet, I feel that I would rather try and fail, than not try. 

In both instances in my career, although I paid a price, my career did not suffer.  Al Hamdolilla.  Is it because that what I want to change were the right things to do, so, the GODS were with me and showed new and better paths.  If so, then how come these GODs did not help me change what I was attempting to change?  Pretty bizarre, isn't it.

I will and want to do the best I can in my jobs, as long as I make good money and I enjoy it.  If that means a lot of travel, I will do so.  When I do not make good money or do not enjoy what I do, is when I retire.  I hope I do not retire for a while.