A country’s development status can be gauged by the confidence its people have on the prevalent security system. Changeling is a movie about corruption and lack of accountability in the police department in Los Angeles (US) in the 1960s. The movie written, directed and produced by Clint Eastwood is based on a true story of missing children and a maniac killer. To Eastwood’s credit, what appear more monstrous than the killer are the police. Any Third World country citizen would identify with that situation even today.

Two years ago, at the MMRDA Ground where the most-anticipated B2C exhibition for home buyers is organized by developers every year, the Mumbai police made a beginning by trying to connect with the people. The presence of a police stall at the exhibition among the developers selling luxury-end lifestyle was quite appropriate, especially in these times of dire security concerns, but Mumbaikars were amused by the sight. The milling crowd gathered around police officers at the stall, who were unusually well-mannered and eager to be of help. Some visitors, while admiring the efforts of the police, couldn’t help loudly proclaim that visitors had gathered the courage to ask the policemen some mildly inconvenient questions. How the police officers would have reacted if asked the same question at a street corner is anybody’s guess.

When I visited the police stall on my second round, and after getting all the required bytes for the day, I zeroed in on a young officer who was in her late 20s. She had all the makings of a tough talking, no-nonsense policewoman, so much so that even the men were gingerly approaching her. Chatting with her for a long while, I and a young college student tried to grill her on the security environment in the city. Then she told us of her remarkable experience. She was a IPS officer, and had once been deputed to Africa in a peace-keeping mission that the UN is usually wont to get involved after all the vested interests have made their kill.

“I learnt one good policing lesson in keeping the peace from that tour”, she told me with candour. Her commander, who hailed from Russia, gave standing instructions to all the members of the peace keeping force to keep the patrols cars running on the streets all the time – through night and day. The peace keeping troops were not complaining as the humid and uninhabitable tropical weather in Africa was best combated sitting inside the AC patrol car and driving through the streets. People suddenly got the feeling that the police were all over the place.

Also, by the end of the first month, all the members of the peace keeping team had perforce become familiar with the place. “It is most important for policing parties to understand the terrain of operations”, the lady officer told the bleary-eyed youngster, while I took copious notes. In spite of her tough demeanour the police officer had that irresistible charm to instill confidence, and that was quite evident from the college boy’s reaction.

My close friend Avinash who chose to settle down in the US after graduation in medicine has an interesting story to tell. During his studies in Harvard, at the age of 19, the indefatigable Mumbaikar along with his friends one night chose to “roam the streets”, probably expecting it to end in a sex romp. After downing a few beers, the young boys, all Indians and belonging to the same school, garrulous and obscene, ambled along the high street, swaying with cans in hand. A few hours into the night, they realized that a patrol car was following them at a distance. Within moments, the sobering thoughts of spending the rest of the night in police custody sobered down all of them. Then in split seconds, the police swooped on them. Though not in Hollywood-style with gun cocked up, the giant men in uniform gave the teenagers the feeling that their worst fears were getting confirmed.

But what happened next was incredulous. The two policemen asked a lot of questions, checked their papers and bodily searched a few suspicious-looking ones, but all in well-mannered terms. At the end of it, the policemen, when convinced that the boys were just frolicking, told them in exceedingly polite language, not to be gullible enough to speak a strange language and get mugged. The happy ending to that story was that the police dropped the six boys back in their hostel after summoning another patrol car just to give them all a free ride back home! Wonder, how many Mumbaikars have travelled in police cars without first getting a ‘treatment’ that we all know so well.

If the Mumbai lady police officer found the best way to keep the peace in Africa was to drive the patrol car through the streets, Singapore is the other extreme. Even if you stay for a fortnight, you might not come across a single policeman on the streets. Therein lies the charm of Singapore. The city state makes a statement of its own – if you mess with us, we will mess with you. The vehicular traffic is fully controlled by automated systems and remotely monitored. But nothing can beat the security system at the Singapore airport. When all over the world you have more and more security systems and protocols put in place in the war on terrorism, often offensive enough for people to stop travelling, Singapore tells a different story. When I walked into the airport on my way back to Mumbai, I noticed there was no guard at the door to check if I had valid tickets to enter the concourse. The taxi driver could have as well entered the airport with me and gone straight to the check-in desk. But then, no one would dare do that in Singapore.

Singapore is a wonderful country, except that it is the only place in the modern world where racism is so starkly rampant. But that I would keep for another day.