Every country has its unsung heroes, some of which have uniforms, others have phones, and in Pakistan some even manage to do both. Enter the traffic warden, a man who is no longer solely associated with whistles, tanned shifts, and arguing with frustrated drivers. However, in the era of TikTok, these wardens have received an unexpected change: no longer unknown government servants, but unintentional national treasures.
It began innocently enough. A video here, a dance move there, and a pep talk delivered passionately at a chowk all contributed to the trend. In no time, TikTok was awash with videos of wardens demonstrating not only their discipline but also their personality. And it proved they have plenty of it. Then the same warden who has just fined you a hundred dollars because you demolished a red light was also going viral, busting moves, reciting poetry, or giving heartfelt counsel to young people in traffic jams, literal and metaphorical.
The combination of humour, warmth, and chaos is the only thing that makes this phenomenon so uniquely Pakistani. In a nation that embodies the temper of the people in its traffic – noisy, erratic, and in a great hurry – wardens introduce a refreshing element. TikTok just enhanced what was already present: they became more resilient, charismatic, and capable of smiling in the face of ridicule at the workplace.
More than the entertainment, though, these viral wardens tell us more about the national psyche. Pakistanis enjoy deriving pleasure in unforeseen situations. They glorify mundane people doing miraculously extraordinary – or blissfully ordinary – things. The symbol of hope in a city that is congested with frustrations is a warden who dances at a signal. Such caprice as a brief video clip of a kind and mild-voiced policeman talking to a rogue driver is a moment of shared appreciation. In a nation that is already dominated by serious news, such bits of information are like refreshing gulps of air.
This is also an intriguing cultural change. TikTok has erased the delicate boundary between authority and relatability. The uniform is no longer a distance maker, as it becomes a platform. Previously irritated wardens now own fan bases. Others even lead fashion trends through their clean-cut uniforms, sunglasses and swagger that one would not dare challenge, not even the television heroes. Young followers comment, ‘Sir, you should have a reality show’ – and to be quite honest, they might be correct.
Meanwhile, this viral fame has made the work of the warden human. People are watching the hardships faced by the warden: hard work, bad weather, tired nerves, and minimal appreciation. Their jokes grow opposition; their shows, little life-sustaining. TikTok provides them with a voice that they have never heard of: unscripted, unofficial, but natural, clumsy, self-assured, and sincere.
Naturally, purists believe that wardens ought to remain off social media and concentrate on duty. However, it’s possible that their perspective is limited. A warden who dances for 15 seconds does not cease the traffic by giving him instructions; he is just reminding us that behind the uniform there is a human being who would also like to be noticed, appreciated, and at times loved.
Thus, it is now possible to add one more item to the extensive museum of Pakistani culture, which includes truck art, chai hotels, and cricket mania: the Traffic Wardens of TikTok. They are state employees, emotion uplifters, mood enhancers, and cultural celebrities.
In brief, they are improbable yet undoubted national treasures.