The importance of large convoys

During a VIP’s recent visit to Mumbai, even emergency vehicles like ambulances were forced to stop along the route until the VIP reached his destination. Representation pic

Traffic from south Bombay to the Western Express Highway came to a standstill a week ago. This wasn't unusual, obviously, because the last time traffic moved smoothly in our city was when Doordarshan was still popular. What made it newsworthy this time was the cause, reportedly a 54-vehicle convoy accompanying a VIP from Delhi.

There were a lot of complaints about the entourage in question, with residents appalled that even emergency vehicles like ambulances were forced to stop along the route until the VIP reached his destination. The complaints annoyed me because they betrayed a lack of appreciation for our politicians and why they need large convoys. Fifty-four cars accompanying someone may seem a little excessive, but only to those who don't accept the fact that our ministers need people around them all the time for important reasons.

To begin with, if it wasn't for the presence of a convoy, how would the rest of us know that a minister from Delhi was in our midst? How would we show respect by stopping our own vehicles and saluting the VIP in question? People die for their country all the time, so why would a stalled emergency vehicle putting someone's life at risk be looked at as a problem, when it could be celebrated as a sacrifice instead? All we lack is a proper sense of priorities.

One of the most important reasons why Indians aspire to a role in politics is not how wealthy it can make them in surprisingly short periods of time. It is the importance and attention that the profession brings to them. It is one of the perks of the job, and possibly the most important part of it because some of us need more attention than others. To take away a convoy reduces them to simple men and women travelling in air-conditioned cars, defeating the purpose of why we have ministers in the first place. If we don't have red beacons, sirens, armed guards, or fluttering flags as they go past, how will we acknowledge that these men and women exist to serve us and make our lives better?

It's easy to write off large convoys as extravagant and unnecessary. It's easy to question why traffic needs to stop just because someone has to get to a ribbon-cutting ceremony on time. It's easy to point fingers at a million more important things that could be done with our tax money, but the fundamental flaw in all these arguments is our assumption that politicians are just like us. They're not. They're better.

Consider, for a minute, just what it takes to become a politician in India. A significant number of them drop out of formal education as quickly as possible to focus on serving their constituencies. How many of us are brave enough to take that plunge? They put in time and effort to raise money for banners that explain what they intend to do when they are elected to power. How many of us are comfortable with large photographs of ourselves waving or pointing at things in the distance?

Politicians also do a lot of research, for which they are rarely credited. They try on various political parties every other year, adopting or rejecting a different manifesto whenever they jump, until they find one that makes the most economic sense. These things take time. They also do whatever they can to make businessmen happy, making sure the wheels of commerce turn in the right direction, which is why we are well on our way towards becoming a trillion-dollar economy within the next 100 years.

Every member of a large convoy exists to help us understand that being a politician is hard work. It's about attending meetings, thumping desks forcefully, waving from helicopters, deflecting questions from journalists, and always making sure that photographers are around. None of these things can be accomplished without the presence of an entourage.

Some people believe an entourage is a sign of insecurity, brought on by an inferiority complex. They describe this desperate need for attention as pathetic. I respectfully disagree. I hope ministers increase the number of cars they travel with. I hope convoys get larger, rather than smaller, so more photographers can be deployed for publicity. Our ministers spend all their waking hours thinking about how best to improve the lives of every Indian. The least we can do to show our gratitude is turn off our ignition, sit in our cars silently while they drive past, and applaud.

When he isn't ranting about all things Mumbai, Lindsay Pereira can be almost sweet. He tweets @lindsaypereira
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The views expressed in this column are the individual's and don't represent those of the paper.