Ghoos gaatha - a shameful trilogy

My first encounter with 'ghoos' (hindi for bribe) happened way back in 2002 when my elder brother applied for a passport so that he could pursue higher studies abroad. The two cops who came on behalf of civil vigilance authorities spent an hour talking about random things with my simpleton parents before laying out the inevitable. My parents always expected it to come up, but the figure of eight thousand rupees that was demanded was shocking for those days, indeed, as for today. The apparent reason for the 'hike' in the 'charges for their services' being that my brother had claimed that he was a resident of Uttar Pradesh, where our house was, while he stayed in his institute's hostel in New Delhi (a mere hour's drive from home). My parents, both innocent souls who have worked through their lives with nothing but sincerity and truthfulness, had no clue about how to respond.

To cut a long story short, a street smart detective uncle intervened and we had the same cop calling us and chiding us for taking things 'too seriously'.

Five years hence, yours truly decided it was good time to get his passport. It was different this time, in that I was determined not to give a single paisa to the saamp or bichchu (snake or scorpion - local slang for the cheap, corrupt cop on the streets) or whoever comes to verify my identity. Luckily, my father was away when the cop graced my home. He must have deemed it unfit to ask money from my mother and wanted my dad to call him up. He also made some petty excuse about my application missing a photograph, which was a blatant lie. Anyway, the apparently missing photo was duly handed over to him as I trekked to the nearby police thana (station). His searching eyes found nothing green in my hands, so he remarked 'Aur kuchch nahin hai kya? (Don't you have anything more than this?'. I shook my head firmly, with a slight smile inside as I walked back. For some reason, I was more happy about not shelling out a single extra rupee rather than anxious about whether I would get my passport or not. Two months later, the Right to Information Act kicked in and my passport came home, without a single paisa of ghoos. What was most hilarious was the postman asking for money, because someone in the family would go abroad and bring back millions of rupees!

Completing the trilogy of the ghoos gaatha (tales of bribes), my parents had to go through the same ordeal a couple of weeks ago. They staunchly refused to pay any so-called 'service charges'. A couple of months will reveal whether they get their passports or not. What was most heart wrenching was to hear how a cop remarked, while accepting bribe from another passport applicant, 'Ab toh Gandhiji aa gaye hai naa, sab kaam ho jaayega. (Now that Gandhiji has arrived, all work will be done)'.

Public apathy has proven to be a blood sucker for our country. Amongst all talk of India shining into the twenty first century as the next global power, let the current generation of India's human resources work to drive the ghoos menace out of our lives.