Hi,
I'm a "sickular".
And that's how I feel. Sick.
I feel like I have been transported to a world that one should never experience, even in a nightmare.
Result: Paranoia.
Today I'm letting you into this world of mine. Go ahead, judge me. But let me tell you that it's as real as it gets. Behaviour and conduct can go to hell.
***
I boarded Delhi Metro's Yellow Line from Hauz Khas to New Delhi Station. I was in the last bogey, at around 10pm.
My bogeymates were about a dozen CISF officers headed to (as I would find out later) Kashmere Gate and a few civilians, including two people who were sitting on the floor.
Most people were hooked to their phones, playing games and texting. Suddenly, one of the officers asked the persons on the floor to get up. One of them politely refused, saying the train wasn't that crowded to trouble anyone aboard.
The officer retorted, it's "not allowed". The person sitting on the floor whined, but didn't budge.
A bad move, now that I know how it panned out.
The officer - a sub-inspector, going by his uniform - grabbed him by the arms, yanked him and shoved him.
Then said, "Ek thappad maarunga, saara nasha utar jaega."
The two men sitting on the floor stiffened. They were now made to stand, just as the officer glared at them. A line of social conduct, I felt, had been crossed at this point. While the enormity of the situation began to dawn on me, two or three people in the bogey began to talk about how some just refuse to follow the rules.
I ventured to ask one of them - an elderly person - what rules applied when a policeman roughs up a civilian who was not exactly guilty of anything meriting an offence graver than a Rs 200 fine as per the Delhi Metro Railway (Operations and Maintenance) Act, 2002.
The gentleman told me the guy "deserved" being mishandled and he wasn't exactly gentle in stating so.
When I asked him if it was okay for the policeman to bully another, he agreed. Then I asked if it would be okay for the policeman to hit a civilian on any given day. To my surprise, he replied that he'd never sit on the floor. He then asked me to sit on the floor. But that wasn't the real problem. The policeman was now glaring at me, daring me to speak to him directly.
Since I wasn't interested in speaking to him, I refused. I continued to engage with the elderly man, but it was a bit too late. Five to six men were now voicing basically the same point, and saying, "Koi sunega nahi to kya karega woh?"
I refuse to take "hit him" as a valid answer to my question, and addressed the entire bogey. It was quiet, and embarrassing no less. Clearly, nobody cared. And I managed to piss the officer off royally and his buddies in uniform.
He warned me against trying to politicise the incident. I assured him that it wasn't my agenda. My destination was three stations away.
By now people had already jumped in and joined this already heated discussion. I began to speak to the person who was in my favour; the next thing I saw the officer was trying to get the better of me. In my head, I hear myself telling the cop: "Sir, you can't do this. We are in a bogey full of witnesses."
I told him to put his statement on record (if he thought he was right), since I was a "patrakaar" (I attribute the language shift to the Sanghi paranoia I carry).
This I did not see coming next: He yanked me, shoved me down, and began to punch me. I asked him. But he continued to punch me. He told me "Ab to tu Kashmere Gate chalega, thane mein dunga tujhe answers!"
I was now a station away from New Delhi. Struggling to free myself from his hold, I told him that I was not guilty of any crime, and asked for my laptop bag which was under a seat.
He shrugged and said I wasn't carrying a bag. Thankfully a few bystanders helped me retirieve it.
New Delhi Railway Station finally arrived. More people who didn't seem to care that a cop was beating me up, got in, and out. I grabbed my bag and tried to leave, but one of the officer's fellow mates did not let me. Then something funny happened.
The officer who had assaulted me, pinched my waist. I couldn't understand what the hell was happening! This hurt more than the punches, which were half-pulled.
All this time, I was trying to look for an ID card, but I couldn't find it on him.
I had been reading The Trial by Kafka for my final semester at Delhi University, and I couldn't help but wonder if I was living in the very story I had been studying.
At this point, I chose self-preservation over righteousness. I apologised for being "wrong about what I had said" and that he could beat up people if he so wished to.
The crowd then decided to take my side and the "just cop" finally let me go, not before warning me to never cross him again.
Now, a question.
I am not injured, well not gravely at least, but the question is if how hurt I am is important to the law and order situation.
If cops can beat up people, including journalists, then the protector and the reporter are at war in a democracy. What happens then? Who listens to us in this case? Who do I go to when I can't even trust the Delhi Police to talk about how the CISF officer beat me up.
I'm sure my story is a story of many others. Odds are this is not enough to catch the media's eye - for without pictures or video, it's mere words.
So here it goes: I'm a fair-skinned Brahmin guy from a middle-class family. I don't fall into any minority or targeted category. That mine is not a special case is not to imply that my plea is symbolic of something greater than a physical assault. It is more than personal.
The Delhi government has evidence in form of the CCTV footage from the Metro. Anyone who was in the same bogey as mine who comes across this story, I urge you to please confirm or deny my testimony.
Please speak up. We can't continue to live in a society which is scared shitless of the cops.
Please share my story if you are outraged and tag it with #ThisIsNotOkay on social media.