Corruption
It's pretty widely recognized that the bureaucratic structure in India is highly complex and highly corrupt. In our work, we've heard constantly about drugs being smuggled into the prisons with the knowledge and assistance of prison guards, and about (rich) heroin dealers being "inexplicably" released while (poor) marijuana smokers are kept for years, but it didn't really hit home until last Monday.
Us four students were in a taxi, on the way to Arthur Road jail. We didn't have access, but decided to scope out the outside - someone had suggested we talk to either visitors or newly released prisoners, so we wanted to find a place to unobtrusively observe the people going in and out. Anyhow, about two or three blocks before the prison, our cab got pulled over. The driver sighed, grabbed his license and registration from the glove compartment, and then got out of the car to talk to the police officer.
About a minute later (during which we all wondered what exactly we'd been pulled over for), the cab driver came back and asked us for Rs. 10. Currun handed the money over - it's about $.20, so it wasn't a huge deal - and the driver walked back the police, handed it over, and then got back into the taxi and drove off. We asked what had happened, and the cab driver explained that it was the "usual police nonsense" - they told him to pay them Rs. 50 or they would write him a ticket. He seemed less than surprised at the whole exchange, but we were all a bit shocked that it had happened, and that the cab driver not only accepted, but seemed to have expected, the whole thing.
But whatever. Such things happen in India, I suppose.
Two days later, we were on our way back to Arthur Road for a meeting with the superintendent. This time, we were in our A/C SUV, being driven by our regular driver, Mr. Sada, and none of us were thinking about what had happened on Monday.
Until suddenly Mr. Sada got pulled over! He grabbed his license and registration, got out of the car, and picked up his phone. We all sat there in shocked silence as Mr. Sada spoke with the police officers, and a couple of minutes later, walked back to the car. We said nothing until he'd started up and merged back into traffic, and then Currun asked, "So how much did you have to pay?"
Mr. Sada said "Nothing" and kept driving.
"What happened?"
Mr. Sada grinned. "They wanted money from me, but then they looked at the registration and saw that the car is registered to the Police Commissioner."* At this, he started giggling hysterically, satisfied indeed at how the transaction had ended up.
We were all pretty satisfied, too, to see the police fail in this bribe attempt, but considering how often they probably succeed - after all, the Commissioner only owns so many cars - the incident still raised some pretty disturbing questions about a system that supports such pervasive and blatant corruption even at the lowest levels of the hierarchy.
* The company Mr. Sada drives for is a new company the Police Commissioner started, a fact we knew but never considered as relevant for our day-to-day drives to and from town. Apparently, we were wrong.
Us four students were in a taxi, on the way to Arthur Road jail. We didn't have access, but decided to scope out the outside - someone had suggested we talk to either visitors or newly released prisoners, so we wanted to find a place to unobtrusively observe the people going in and out. Anyhow, about two or three blocks before the prison, our cab got pulled over. The driver sighed, grabbed his license and registration from the glove compartment, and then got out of the car to talk to the police officer.
About a minute later (during which we all wondered what exactly we'd been pulled over for), the cab driver came back and asked us for Rs. 10. Currun handed the money over - it's about $.20, so it wasn't a huge deal - and the driver walked back the police, handed it over, and then got back into the taxi and drove off. We asked what had happened, and the cab driver explained that it was the "usual police nonsense" - they told him to pay them Rs. 50 or they would write him a ticket. He seemed less than surprised at the whole exchange, but we were all a bit shocked that it had happened, and that the cab driver not only accepted, but seemed to have expected, the whole thing.
But whatever. Such things happen in India, I suppose.
Two days later, we were on our way back to Arthur Road for a meeting with the superintendent. This time, we were in our A/C SUV, being driven by our regular driver, Mr. Sada, and none of us were thinking about what had happened on Monday.
Until suddenly Mr. Sada got pulled over! He grabbed his license and registration, got out of the car, and picked up his phone. We all sat there in shocked silence as Mr. Sada spoke with the police officers, and a couple of minutes later, walked back to the car. We said nothing until he'd started up and merged back into traffic, and then Currun asked, "So how much did you have to pay?"
Mr. Sada said "Nothing" and kept driving.
"What happened?"
Mr. Sada grinned. "They wanted money from me, but then they looked at the registration and saw that the car is registered to the Police Commissioner."* At this, he started giggling hysterically, satisfied indeed at how the transaction had ended up.
We were all pretty satisfied, too, to see the police fail in this bribe attempt, but considering how often they probably succeed - after all, the Commissioner only owns so many cars - the incident still raised some pretty disturbing questions about a system that supports such pervasive and blatant corruption even at the lowest levels of the hierarchy.
* The company Mr. Sada drives for is a new company the Police Commissioner started, a fact we knew but never considered as relevant for our day-to-day drives to and from town. Apparently, we were wrong.
posted by Teale at 8:48 AM
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