Reflections of an officer

Reflections of an officer

I wake up at 4.30 AM hardly having had a good night’s sleep. The scenes of yesterday keep rewinding in my head all night, after all I had just buried one of my pals in the forces before going off to sleep. His cries for help and his helplessness showed up in my mental canvas,

I felt a little jittery going out to report but a job was a job and had to be done well. At the end of the day a job done well in the day allows me a good night’s sleep, except when incidents like these mar my nights. I ask myself why I am the target of vandalism and mayhem. I immediately reprimand myself for thinking this way, since it is akin to being in the army and praying that you may never have to be on the front, akin to rowing a boat tied to the bank.

I had always fancied being a police officer, a handsome 20’s something, with tucked in belly, lean but strong arms and hands, swift on foot, taking in the landscape with my gaze, dark glasses to comfort me from the distant but burning sun, and a small firearm hanging lazily on its holster strung across my waist for company. My cap perched obediently on my head with its shade tapering over my eyes would complete this grand picture that would turn many an eye in my direction. I would be prone to inviting looks from the opposite sex, and I would derive this unsettling sense of joy, unsettling because it would enormously enhance my reputation and worth in my own eyes. Young ones would look to me with respect, admiration and a sense of awe.

With this image I could give strong competition to the cowboys in western classics, (except that we are not allowed to be trigger happy) what a fulfilling existence with the satisfaction derived out of serving one’s own country. What hurts me though is the senseless and seamless violence on the streets by a few people, young enough to be my brothers and similar to my next door neighbors kids. Some so young that they could be blown away in a strong wind. I have had to use force intermittently and sparingly, but the bloodletting cringes me and my head reels at the sight of blood.

I realize that it is someone’s son, brother, husband friend or neighbor that is injured due to my action, but what to do if I didn’t I wouldn’t being doing justice to my role, I wouldn’t be earning my salary. There is a difference between getting and earning my salary, getting is mechanical while earning is compulsive. My job is to stop and control lawlessness and ensure the law of the land rules large. No exceptions neither for me, my kin, friends or acquaintances. Still when I see this kind of madness on the streets, I wonder if all this is necessary. Do we have to let blood to score our points?

After all, the colour on both sides is red and unites us to the core human being. Whether it is a terrorist or soldier the colour of his blood remains the same, all are related to someone on this earth be it in the form of father, husband, brother, friend or acquaintances. I wish there was a truce, an attempt to reconcile from both sides, I wish I could stand like a cowboy in the movies without being concerned about missiles directed at me, I wish I could stare back at the lovely ones and dream of being the charming prince, I wish I did not have to wield a baton leave alone a pistol. Oh, if only things would return to normal, and I could be allowed to continue with my dreams.

There is a nip in the air as I step out of my house for the day’s work and think whether more of this precious colour be spilt on the streets today, because of our difference in opinions, to prove our points do we have to shed blood, can’t we process issues in peace, what if we don’t, the land will be coloured in red and no one would be able to differentiate between the stalker or the stalked, the enemy or the friend, the attacker or the defender, the right or the wrong for blood has only one colour- Red anywhere and everywhere in this world irrespective of where it flows from.

 

Robin Varghese

Mail to: robin_vargh@yahoo.com

(This article is based on the internal strife in Bahrain and how the poor policemen bear the brunt of opposition attack)