<p>I was overcome with memories of days past as I was watching the second season of that slick series <span class="italic"><em>The Family Man</em></span>. And more specifically of Vedaranyam, the locale for some of the dramatic events in the series and a place where I had spent a lot of time. </p>.<p>My initial posting in Customs was on the east coast. Those were the days of smuggling through the sea route— Both on the west and east coast of India. On the east coast, landings of contraband took place in the whole stretch from Mahabalipuram to Kanyakumari. Small hamlets and villages hug the coastline with roads running parallel to it.</p>.<p>The smuggled goods used to come from Sri Lanka— the nearest point there being an hour away by fibre-glass boats powered by 40 HP outboard engines. The range of goods being smuggled was vast, from gabardine textiles (thick, shiny and extremely popular) to zip fasteners, to cassettes and cassette recorders including the big, clunky video cassettes recorders. </p>.<p>When intelligence inputs about possible landings were received, we would rush to the coast. We would park our vehicles discreetly on the road, walk barefoot attired in lungis and banians, with a cloth around our head. We would, in the dark of the night, go through the villages towards the coast. The incessant barking of dogs did not help. The intelligence would suggest possible landing spots— usually identified by the light of a structure on the shore. Even as we crouched and waited on the shore, we would very many times helplessly watch a flare going above our heads towards the sea. This was a signal to the smuggler’s boat that there was danger ahead; that officers were waiting, to abort the landing. We had been spotted. We would curse our luck and call off the operation.</p>.<p>On one occasion we reached our vehicle only to discover that we had a flat tye— all of them. We had but one spare tyre. Obviously, this was mischief. We cursed under our breath as a small boy watched us nonchalantly. He must have been all of 7-8 years. We asked him who did this. He shrugged his shoulders and said how do I know? Then he cheekily asked us, "how come you are not travelling by your regular vehicle? This seems to be a new vehicle?" We were shocked that this kid knew our vehicle numbers and had spotted that we were using a different vehicle. So much for our attempt at camouflage.</p>.<p>The work was back-breaking, frustrating and interesting— a cat and mouse game in which not every time did the cat get the mouse.</p>
<p>I was overcome with memories of days past as I was watching the second season of that slick series <span class="italic"><em>The Family Man</em></span>. And more specifically of Vedaranyam, the locale for some of the dramatic events in the series and a place where I had spent a lot of time. </p>.<p>My initial posting in Customs was on the east coast. Those were the days of smuggling through the sea route— Both on the west and east coast of India. On the east coast, landings of contraband took place in the whole stretch from Mahabalipuram to Kanyakumari. Small hamlets and villages hug the coastline with roads running parallel to it.</p>.<p>The smuggled goods used to come from Sri Lanka— the nearest point there being an hour away by fibre-glass boats powered by 40 HP outboard engines. The range of goods being smuggled was vast, from gabardine textiles (thick, shiny and extremely popular) to zip fasteners, to cassettes and cassette recorders including the big, clunky video cassettes recorders. </p>.<p>When intelligence inputs about possible landings were received, we would rush to the coast. We would park our vehicles discreetly on the road, walk barefoot attired in lungis and banians, with a cloth around our head. We would, in the dark of the night, go through the villages towards the coast. The incessant barking of dogs did not help. The intelligence would suggest possible landing spots— usually identified by the light of a structure on the shore. Even as we crouched and waited on the shore, we would very many times helplessly watch a flare going above our heads towards the sea. This was a signal to the smuggler’s boat that there was danger ahead; that officers were waiting, to abort the landing. We had been spotted. We would curse our luck and call off the operation.</p>.<p>On one occasion we reached our vehicle only to discover that we had a flat tye— all of them. We had but one spare tyre. Obviously, this was mischief. We cursed under our breath as a small boy watched us nonchalantly. He must have been all of 7-8 years. We asked him who did this. He shrugged his shoulders and said how do I know? Then he cheekily asked us, "how come you are not travelling by your regular vehicle? This seems to be a new vehicle?" We were shocked that this kid knew our vehicle numbers and had spotted that we were using a different vehicle. So much for our attempt at camouflage.</p>.<p>The work was back-breaking, frustrating and interesting— a cat and mouse game in which not every time did the cat get the mouse.</p>