Around lunch time on Monday last, I was chatting with a friend outside a bakery near the Clock Tower in Town Hall. Out of nowhere, three men in civilian clothes appeared and rudely interrupted our conversation. “We are from the Intelligence Department and want to question you,” one of them said.
I was least perplexed since this was not the first time I was encountering policemen uninvited in Tamil Nadu. My looks – long hair, unkempt beard and dark skin – have always made the Tamil Nadu policemen suspect that I was a member of a banned outfit. My red T-shirt only compounded their suspicion.
“We have been watching you for long. Where are you from,” he asked me. I told him that I was a Trainee Reporter in The New Indian Express and was in Coimbatore for a month’s training. I did not have an office identity card yet, so I gave him other identity proofs.
They did not seem convinced. My friend, who was dressed ‘normally’, too was subjected to this grilling for being seen in my company.
Later, I learnt that they had called my office and told a senior colleague that they suspected me to be a Maoist and wanted to check my credentials. They obtained my mobile phone number from my office and asked me to dial a number to confirm that I was the same person. After a 40-minute ordeal, during which we were embarrassed due to the unwarranted attention on us, we were let off saying “Sorry, we received some wrong information.”
My emphasis is on the Tamil Nadu police because nowhere else have I encountered such problems. I have lived in Delhi for seven years to pursue PhD at the Jawaharlal Nehru University and travelled extensively in West Bengal, Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, Rajasthan and Gujarat. Not once was I stopped by a policemen though I could hardly converse in Hindi.
When I tell the policemen here about this, they ask me, “Why did you go to these States”, perhaps linking me to the Maoist movement.
Earlier, I have been stopped by policemen in my hometown, Mudukulathur in Ramanathapuram. Once when I told a sub-inspector that I was going home, he retorted, “Why are you going home?” His next statement was, “I have never seen you here.” Well, what could I do about that? On another occasion, I was pained when my parents and relatives struggled to convince a policeman that I was a ‘normal’ guy. Another cop, in Madurai, wished to know if I was an LTTE cadre.
I can’t change my appearance. What’s ironical is that down south, most deities such as Madurai Veeran and Karuppasamy have long hair. Even the Nayak kings of Madurai are shown sporting long hair. Jesus Christ would be unrecognisable without his lengthy tresses.
Let me record that the stereotypical police mentality has reduced me to a stranger in my own homeland.