Life in these united states.....

Recently an Indian grandfather, who was visiting his son and family in Madison, a small town in Alabama was manhandled by a cruel police officer. Mr Patel, who was left partially paralyzed and needed multiple surgeries, was taking a morning walk in the neighborhood when a police officer approached him. Mr. Patel's mistake- he didn't know English and failed to understand the question or instructions that was given to him. In a video that has gone viral ever since, Mr. Patel is shown repeatedly saying “no English” and this police officer instructing him in English “do not move, if you move I will put you down- do you understand?"He must have been so out of mind to think that a person who doesn't know the language can understand the instruction he is giving in English. The police officer was later suspended and is facing a possible termination.

The atrocious stories of police officers mishandling the situation is abundant, in some cases costing life to the people involved. Is it the lack of training they receive?  lack of empathy? Racism still prevalent and police officers are not immune to it? Or is it that the police that control a gun laden population needs to be brutal to keep things under control? After all, they risk their life to be in the street. All these incidents that I read and hear in the media is slightly against what I have experienced in my fifteen years of stay here.

First time, it was through a 911 call. It was my first month in this country- not long enough for me to learn about emergency calls. Lying on the sofa, I dialed 01191 which is the international code and then the country code for India. I stopped half way through as my son interrupted me, dialed again only to miss it, and dialed one more time before I finally got the line through. It was Vishu, a festival day in Kerala, I was talking to my mother in law.

Two minutes into the conversation, I saw a police officer peeping into my room. He asked if I am okay. Confused, I nodded but continued talking as I walked up and down the room about the presence of police in the house. When I glanced through the door, I saw my husband trying to explain something. I saw him leading these officers to the door and waving while I continued talking oblivious to what is happening. Entering the room, the furious husband snatched the phone from me and told his mom that I called these police officers. It took a while for me to comprehend- by mistake I have dialed 911 and these officers were responding to that call. Then I vaguely remembered that I was getting a phone call which I never cared to take as I was conversing with the folks in India. They wouldn't leave when Vinod informed them there is nothing wrong and we didn't need help. They insisted they see other people in the house and made sure everything is okay before leaving.

Even though it is one of those embarrassing incidents in my life, I derived enormous strength from the feeling of security knowing that I would get help in a phone call within minutes. There were times I lived alone with my son when he was still a child. For someone who was extremely fearful of dark and experienced an overprotective childhood in a joint family, living alone in a foreign country is made possible because deep inside, I knew my safety is only a 911 call away. Whenever I sleep alone, I have my phone beside my pillow- just in case if I need to make that call. I feel protected and safe in a way I never would have if I was staying alone in India.

Years later, as I hurried into my car to get to work one fine morning, I noticed my car was unlocked. I had the habit of forgetting to lock it at times, but in safe Winchester neighborhood, breaking in the car was unthinkable. In a panic I realized that some one has gone through my stuffs and the GPS is missing. I was late to work and was a testing proctor for that day, so I drove away distressed. My parents were visiting me at that time, I saw panic in their eyes too. I thought of reporting it to police once I settle down with the testing. However after an hour my father informed me that a police officer came home and knocked on the door to ask if we lost something. They caught a teenager who was breaking in cars in the neighborhood and confiscated many things including our GPS. We were asked to wait for the investigation and the closure of the case against the boy. In couple of weeks, we got a call to collect my GPS. As I walked into the police station with my husband, I was anxious, but was politely received and was handed the GPS and made me sign some papers.

The role of the police of a state is to protect its citizens. There are a lot of good police officers out there who relentlessly put their life in danger and protect the people. And then there are few like the one in Alabama who will exert their power over a fragile old man. But it is soothing to know that they are few and far between.