Kishore Singh: When VIPs are...er...useful

PEOPLE LIKE US

Chandigarh is a very strange place. You can buy cigarettes there but you can't smoke "" not outside in the open, nor in restaurants and bars, not in your car and not even in your own home (where servants can tattle on you, so if you do smoke in the privacy of your loo, you have to keep your servant's palms greased with silver for fear of falling foul of the law). And since the fine can range from a penalty of Rs 600 to time in the clinker, the residents of the union territory are careful about how they have their fun.

Which is simple "" they merely drive across one sector to enter Zirakhpur, and there, in Punjab, they can do pretty much as they choose. Which is why all the weddings that happen in Chandigarh are celebrated in Punjab (and not, for probably some similar reason, in Haryana's Panchkula, which too seems just a sector away).

The roads out of Chandigarh are lined with party places, banquet halls where you can hire the DJ of your choice, have a mobile bar, and rock the night away without the slightest fear of some burly cop knocking at the gates.

How I wished they would, though. For while Punjab may rock, it knows very little about music. So, whether for mehendi lunch, or engagement-sangeet, or wedding-dance, the DJ clones seem to repeat their repertoire of a half-dozen songs gleaned from recent movies that combine a few words in Punjabi, a smattering of English and lots of gibberish.

For some reason this gets the local constituency all fired up, and they jump and prance around on dance floors liberally coated with chalk dust, or talcum powder, till you choke from coughing.

And they eat "" in huge quantities and in style. There's every variety of chicken "" sauteed, tandooried, fried, roasted, shredded, stuffed "" and loads more besides. With great quantities of alcohol to wash it all down.

But what the Punjabis seem to have by way of joie de vivre, they more than lack when it comes to road manners. Nowhere in India is driving as aggressive as it is in Punjab, as we found to our discomfort, driving to and back from Delhi. Every few kilometers you're likely to be edged off the road by SUVs and Mercs and, to add insult to injury, the Punbus service.

Driving back, we were almost knocked off the road for the nth time by a cavalcade of cars with wailing sirens and flashing lights, and so soundly abused the VIP, whoever he be.

But soon enough we had reason to be grateful they were ahead when suddenly a deep and impenetrable fog descended on the highway. It would be foolish to stop for some speeding idiot would likely hit the parked car, so we trailed behind the VIP convoy as best as we could, even as buses and cars continued to play dodge.

The inevitable happened. A bus hit the verge, a half-dozen cars smashed into each other even as the convoy screeched to a stop, we managed to brake just in time to avoid disaster, but a pile-up occurred behind us as well.

Quickly the cops in the pilot and escort cars directed us to a lay-by where the VIP "" the chief minister of Punjab, as it turned out "" sat in his vehicle. We waited for the fog to rise, and when it didn't, we joined the convoy, firmly in the middle, refusing to stop to pay even the toll tax (I hereby promise to pay the government the sum of Rs 50).

I guess when you drive in Punjab, there's nothing like a flutter of VIP sirens and lights to make you feel truly secure.