Cops always have something to smile about

It all started the day it started, more than nine years ago… and hasn't changed till date. No matter what happens on the job, each day there is something to smile about. Today, a company commander called me to thank about a goat that his team was feasting on. Well, a few months ago, there was a plan for a barakhana, but it never came to materialise. However, the officer in charge of buying the mutton procured more that ten goats. Don't get me wrong (the vegetarians may now skip the next paragraph), these were the good goats, bred in the pristine environs of the hills where no vehicle can ply. He just wanted to do the bit he was assigned to do. As the barakhana was cancelled, the goats stayed with him. One day after a search op ended and I, along with the others, reached this patrol post, the goats presented such a simple, pure and rustic view of the world. To cut a long story short, detailed discussion was held and it was decided that the goats shall be divvied up for various commandos and armed personnel on the job. That's how I got to hear the thanks. (PS: I paid.) 

Yesterday, there was the pride in the voice of a junior in service who made his first arrest of some gamblers. I don't really remember the day before that, because a lot can happen in 48 hours of the life of a cop. There are some standouts, though. SOP (standard operating procedure) is one. I used to hate it, especially because the ones to follow SOP to a "T" are only the Central Para Military Forces. Local state police just has to get the work done, it doesn't matter how and it surely doesn't matter how many officers we are short of. That is a whole separate serious subject to delve upon. So, speaking of SOP, aside from those which govern how to conduct a raid, an ROP (Road Opening Party) or other such details, the CPMF have one unwritten one about food. No matter what is going on and how, they will make sure that food reaches the forces. More often than not, the local police are at the receiving end of such generosity. This is not a story of such a heartwarming time, though. In the middle of communal tension, where one group of people armed with bows and arrows, lathis and daos were carrying out a chaotic procession with an intent to burn the houses of the people of another community, every guile was employed: talking to the leaders, calling out the village defence parties, requesting the political leaders to counsel, asking the magistrate to intervene. Whatever force was available was employed, yet in the end the police officers on ground gave in to the temptation of letting divine intervention play out its role. 

Far away in the police control room, which was already overworked with incidents all over the district, it was almost a forgone conclusion. After about 40 minutes, the officer on ground called to say that the mob had been subdued and persuaded and dispersed. Faced with so many other details to keep track of, the matter was soon forgotten. A couple of days later, the story tumbled out. The forces who had just arrived in the district following the incident were stationed in the far flung areas to carry out area domination. In the midst of their patrolling, the food truck arrived. Incidentally, the RV point was actually in between the villages of both the communities. About 60 men had gathered to eat their afternoon meal. ("Fauj to pet se hi chalta hai", a refrain I hear often. Police to bhookha bhi kaam kar leti hai, I add every time.) Thus when the chaotic, armed crowd came up to carry out their arson, the formidable strength of a well-fed, better dressed and stronger looking force made them halt in their tracks. That saved the day. 

Another time something which amused me to no end was the story of one of the officers who is a little too attached to his favourite poison. In fact, that has become one of my favorite war stories as a cop; there is no war here, though. This man is talented, speaks quite a few languages. He just has his fatal flaw. Tied up to the bottle, he makes and bumbles through some major mistakes that are unforgivable to any officer of the law. With deadlines to meet, he was finally under strict observation and we called his wife to boot. For a whole of six days or so, the man remained sober, got his paperwork done and things looked bright for us all. That was however too good to last. And the pessimist in me was proven right within the week; actually, if you're a cop, the cynic, the pessimist and the realist are all rolled into one! He was roaring drunk and that was that. No more paperwork, no more work! Everything went back to the way it was; the officer in charge of the police station resumed complaining that he's usually absent from duty, the supervisor complained about his flouting the paperwork, the public reminded me about his unwelcome demeanor… you get the picture. I asked around about his sober phase and the subsequent slide. What I found out was astounding. As the wife turned up, our man cleaned up his act. More likely, his wife cleaned him up. For that whole of the six days which were the most productive he has been in his career so far, he was apparently not feeling so good on the inside. So, one evening, when his wife complained that she wasn't feeling too well, he saw an opportunity. He immediately suggested that she accompany him to see a doctor. Off went both of them. In the hospital, as the nurse was preparing the medication, our man here gently but firmly whispered into the ears of the doctor, "This woman here, she is an arrested accused in a case. She has to be hospitalised for a while before we can produce her in front of the magistrate tomorrow." That was all. Our man sneaked out of the hospital, bought his tipple, went home and proceeded to get sloshed out of his mind. It was only about four hours later when the officer in charge of the police station got frantic calls from the hospital staff that the true story tumbled out. The wife was brought home, our man was too far out to have a sensible conversation, and work slid down the lane to what it was before. (Full marks to this officer for creative imagination and for thinking out of the box.) 

The personnel we have: Each one is human, has his or her own interests, idiosyncrasies and peeves. All are brought together by this work and kept together by a fragile mesh of camaraderie, training, loyalty, rules, statutes, salary plus who knows what else. Here we are.