The late-night flight from Dubai to Chennai landed smoothly. My mind was full of expectations about a large family gathering at a wedding the next day. As I walked out after immigration clearance, I saw a customs officer flagging someone frantically. I presumed it was for someone behind me, but he accosted me and asked, “Are you carrying any gold?”
“No, no, nothing except what I am wearing,” I blurted. “The bangles you are wearing seem to be new.”
“No, these are my everyday bangles,” I said wrenching a bangle from my wrist and showing him the white film of soap settled in the grooves.
“If you are hiding any gold with you other than this, you must declare it now,” the officer said, a tad menacingly.
I yanked my mangalsutra out. “Don’t show, just answer me.” The instruction wasn’t rude, but it was firm. He called a lady subordinate and asked her to take me for a full-body frisk. Did he think I was smuggling gold? Did I look like a carrier?
The lady did a full pat down. It was a first for me in 27 years of living abroad and multiple times entering the country through various airports. I should have been outraged for being obliquely seen in a shadow of doubt, but I was not.
Startled but not overly perturbed, I let the officials do the search and be convinced that I was not a partner in any crime like the one Kannada actress Ranya Rao had been caught for in Bengaluru. I had an obligation as a law-abiding citizen to let the officers perform their duty. I could not blame them. Smugglers came in all sizes, shapes and genders these days and they carried out daring acts that belied stereotypes. A lone woman traveller from Dubai could be anything but innocent, and the keepers of law had every right to make sure no guilty got away even if a few innocents got inconvenienced.
On my return flight to Dubai, I was stopped again at the security checkpoint. I was asked to open my cabin baggage, much to my disappointment. I had been very diligent in my packing, making sure I did not carry any prohibited articles in the hand baggage, and yet, I was called up to open my bag and spill its contents. What had shown up in the scanner was the jewellery I had carried for the family wedding. They asked me to hold up each piece to see if there was anything dangerous. None, whatsoever. “Are they real?” a junior officer asked.
I laughed good-naturedly. “Who wears original jewellery these days, sir? Especially when we have pretty ones in imitation?” The senior officer did not find my quip amusing and pointed at a plastic bag in which I was carrying my lunch, and asked, “What’s in the box?”
“Curd rice,” I said. He asked me to open it. I opened it without batting an eyelid. When I was cleared, I was left with two trays full of assorted items waiting to be repacked. I was annoyed, but only slightly.
I felt pity for all those who went through the ordeal, along with my understanding of how the security personnel themselves bore the brunt of public irritation for following the protocol and making sure that nothing went wrong because of their oversight. As I stood there watching the officers work, I realised that the people in uniform were doing exactly what they were trained to do-ensuring that no one got away with jeopardising the safety of others. They were upholding a system designed to protect everyone, even when it meant inconveniencing some innocent travellers in the process.
Why do we feel affronted and targeted when we are asked to follow rules? As much as we may hate the hassle, isn’t it a small price to pay for the peace of mind that comes with knowing these checks are in place? It is about understanding that the system is not designed to harass us, but to protect us, or to maintain law and order in society. The obligation to follow rules is incumbent upon us. As I read a small poster on the cockpit door from my second-row seat, I was reminded that everyone had rules to follow. I felt a quiet gratitude for those who dedicated themselves to keeping us safe-on the ground and in the sky.
“Flying is a serious profession. Do not carry your worries beyond this point,” the signage read. By the same token, let us not carry resentment against those who uphold the rules, for, more often than not, their vigilance is the reason the world still has some order.
(The author is a Dubai-based columnist and writing coach. She has published six books. Views expressed are personal)
