Held up at security check

I was going on one of my routine trips and, having DigiYatraed myself, got into the Kempegowda International Airport swiftly. Let me hasten to add it was just a domestic trip -- so please do not get misled by the ‘International’ in the name of the airport.

I reached the security – and to my dismay it appeared the whole of Bengaluru had similarly opted for the DigiYatra option. I joined the queue. As I reached the x-ray machine, I realised to my horror that I had worn the wrong trousers. You see, my waist had seen better days. With age it had, unlike many others and to my absolute pride, reduced. And since I had not kept changing my perfectly alright trousers to keep pace with my waist, it needed a sturdy belt to hold it in place. What this further meant in the present situation was that I had to remove my belt for the x-ray – this also meant that my trousers were in grave danger of hitting the ground. I looked pleadingly at the security guard who was instructing everybody, “All metal objects, phones, laptops, and belts in the tray, please.” He was not moved. Out went the belt, and my hand rushed to hold the poor trouser, who was also pleading with me to not let him down.

I saw with great interest a person ahead of me who appeared to be in a similar predicament. He approached the CISF officer, who patted the metal detector around his body. He then asked him to raise his hands. The person in front of me did so – he was half squatting, with his knees bent, trying to arrest the fall of the trousers. This was a technique I had no intention of adopting – this gentleman’s colourful innerwear was exposed. I wanted my Andar ki Baat, as the tagline for an innerwear brand goes, to remain so. I nervously approached the officer.

I wish I too had a protocol to help me go through the security barrier like some person recently is said to have had in KIA to get contraband out. My requirements were so much more innocent. The CISF officer looked at me; my one hand was firmly clutching the trousers. He saw my nervousness and patted his metal detector a little more firmly. He asked me to raise my hands. I raised one hand. He said, “Both.” He saw my balding head, greying hair, and my one hand on the trousers and understood. He smiled. He said, 'Raise the right hand,' and checked me. He said, 'Now raise the left hand.' He checked me. And gave me the all clear; I rushed to collect the belt and fasten myself.

God bless the security officer. In my nervousness I did not even notice his name – otherwise I would have named him in my piece as my tribute to the understanding and kind CISF officer. And why do we not also have a curtain in the security for gentlemen like they do for the ladies? We too deserve our privacy!