Knock Knock

I answer the door and find this hulking policeman standing there, with a writing pad and pen in his hands. He looks the pleasant sort and smiles before he tells me that he’s here because of some sort of security drive to check if anyone lives alone. Er, I do, I say quickly. Tch, let me finish, he says and smiles. We’re checking if you have tenants or an unverified servant or if an old person lives alone in the house, he says. I shake my head to all and he nods and starts scribbling something on his pad. Then, almost as though struck by this stunning realisation, he says almost disbelievingly, Not married? I know what’s coming and I laugh and shake my head. Why, he asks. I laugh politely once again because, really, what am I expected to say? Any problem? he asks in a manner that could imply, at once, that (a) I was married once but I am now divorced (b) I have a personality problem because of which I’m not quite eligible (c) I have some physical problem that’s proving to be a hindrance (d) Who knows, maybe all of the above! No, just,..I say and shrug, not quite being able to smile as sunnily now. He’s nothing if not persistent. But, you should...marriage is a must. You should, he says, wrapping up and moving on.

Argh! Is all this part of a policeman’s job profile these days?! Don’t they have crooks to catch