Chivalry of a Muslim brother on Hill Street, Dehiwela…

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In 1998 I was visiting a friend who lived off Hill Street one sunday afternoon and was driving off home around 5pm. A stupid tryshaw driver overtaking on the left made contact with my car with a shriek, squeak and left a nice little dent in the car and much more damage to his. I had no qualms at all, told him that it was his fault and  I would need a police report for the insurance claim, so to please accompany me to the Dehiwela Police Station. I then realised that we were not two, but three or four cos his friends had gathered. None of em meant me any harm and I never worried about it. He was strangely reluctant to go to the Police cos his tryshaw was not licensed or whatever. His friends scratched their heads… it was a bit icky for him I realised.

Behind me pulled up a car from the same lane and out stepped a young guy my age ish, and walked over to show some solidarity with me. I tried to tell him that I was ok but he wasn’t convinced.

“You are going to the police station …?” He asked with a concerned glance at my short mini skirt which was a decent length between thigh and knee.

“I think I’ll also come with you, let’s go”.

I really didn’t bother what other people chose to do with their Sunday evenings so we all toddled off to the Police Station.

Here I discovered this rather famous cop having a little break there. He was a bit of a ‘Sugathapala’ loving his traffic police work and seen doing vigorous hand and bodywork  at the Wella junc . People used to wave to him as we passed him every day to work in the rush hour. After registering everything and giving me ‘looks’ for being strict with the tryshaw guy ,who had by now informed his entire extended family that he was in trouble, Cop asked me  ‘who is this?’ waving at my chaperone. ‘I have no idea’ I said, “I think he is called Bishry”.

Bish came forward and made a gallant representation of the reasons for which he felt compelled to intervene including the fact that I looked every bit a damsel in distress and “You know no, Sir, these days… I didn’t want her to go with this guy on her own…”.  The Cop didn’t look too convinced and am sure he had his reservations about my damselness. Anyways, all in order we left the Police Station and Bishry bless him insisted that he will follow me up to the Galle Road turn off to my home in case I felt weak at the knees. I thanked, waved and contrary to all of you whose cynical minds are in the gutter I never was contacted by Bishry nor did he ask me for my mobile number being happily engaged himself.

The very people who accuse the Muslims of being derogatory to women they employ and women in general are themselves so chauvinistic, crude and racist that it is time to remember those little incidents that one hardly thinks of. I don’t know where Bishry is now but I certainly hope he has many children to whom he will teach what his mother taught him apparently: how to respectfully protect his Srilankan sisters in their hour of need.

Comments

  1. Very nice. Lifted my spirits, in this dark and depressing time.

    • thanks fr the appreciative comment. due to sharing, this story achieved a 500 plus readership only on my FB page in one day. if you do like a story pls share… more people feel like expressing themselves when they read a similar post. cheers jack point.

      • I did actually share it-but on email with several people. I will put it up on FB.
        The problem these days is that there are so many things to share, all on the one topic. I sometimes find it hard just to keep up with everything and I don’t want to overdo the sharing on FB.

  2. Fazli Sameer says:

    It is high time we judge people by who they are and not which color, group, party, sect, religion, or nationality they belong to. Common sense is surely a difficult commodity these days?

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