Only yesterday I got my motorbike delivered from Delhi to Bangalore. Living in Bangalore has been different than the eventful college life of Delhi. More than the lifestyle which has changed due to working in a job, Bangalore itself has made me look at things differently.
One can see a stark contrast in the traffic conditions and driving sense here from Delhi's standards. Anyways, I was informed that one gets a month's time to pay the road tax to be able to drive in Bangalore on a Delhi licence plate. So enjoying the pleasent weather, off I go on my bike riding along the wind. Suddenly a thulla (traffic policeman), notices my Delhi number plate and his eyes sparkle and he instructs me to stop and park the bike on the side. I respectfully oblige and he asks me if I have all the papers in order. I answered everything except the tax which for which I have a month's time. As expected, he was not interested in seeing my delivery receipt but he wanted a bribr ofcourse (for no reason whatsoever).
Anyways I was a more lucky north-indian than others here, I took out my mobile phone and told the guy am calling my uncle, who is a top police officer here.
His instant reaction was, "You should have told me that you have a month left to pay the tax!"
Ironically, those were my exact words which I had told him, which fell deaf to his ears as long as he saw a poor north indian guy with a Delhi licence plate.
This is just one of the things which happen around here. One just has to go on and on and on through the torture (to put it lightly) in the city called Bangalore.
Ah, I suddenly remember how the landlords, the rickshawallahs, and many more target north indians with just one motive - to fleece.
One can see a stark contrast in the traffic conditions and driving sense here from Delhi's standards. Anyways, I was informed that one gets a month's time to pay the road tax to be able to drive in Bangalore on a Delhi licence plate. So enjoying the pleasent weather, off I go on my bike riding along the wind. Suddenly a thulla (traffic policeman), notices my Delhi number plate and his eyes sparkle and he instructs me to stop and park the bike on the side. I respectfully oblige and he asks me if I have all the papers in order. I answered everything except the tax which for which I have a month's time. As expected, he was not interested in seeing my delivery receipt but he wanted a bribr ofcourse (for no reason whatsoever).
Anyways I was a more lucky north-indian than others here, I took out my mobile phone and told the guy am calling my uncle, who is a top police officer here.
His instant reaction was, "You should have told me that you have a month left to pay the tax!"
Ironically, those were my exact words which I had told him, which fell deaf to his ears as long as he saw a poor north indian guy with a Delhi licence plate.
This is just one of the things which happen around here. One just has to go on and on and on through the torture (to put it lightly) in the city called Bangalore.
Ah, I suddenly remember how the landlords, the rickshawallahs, and many more target north indians with just one motive - to fleece.
1 comment:
100 % truth
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