by Amit Lodha
Pankaj was tired of being called a traitor. He had to redeem his honour.
Kumarballabh had called Vijay over for a drink to review the situation. He said worriedly, ‘Vijay, we are in for a tough fight. Kesho Singh is quite influential in the diara, the riverine belt.’
‘Toh kya tareeka hai aapke jeetne ka (So how are you planning to win)?’ asked Vijay.
Kumarballabh paused for a moment. He gulped the English whisky he was having in one go.
‘Kesho Singh ko maarna hoga (Kesho Singh will have to be killed),’ Kumarballabh looked Vijay in the eye.
‘Haha! Ho jaayega (It will be done). But I need a promise from you.’
‘Anything for you, brother.’
‘I want my bhabhi to become the MLA in the next elections.’
Kesho Singh was delighted. His bahu had just delivered a child, a boy.
‘Finally, I have an heir. I will groom him to carry my political legacy forward,’ thought Kesho.
Kesho had never loved his son, Akhilesh. He found him too weak and docile. Years of abuse and neglect by Kesho had made his son mentally ill. ‘Kahaan sher ke yahaan yeh nalayak paida hua hai (How come I have an imbecile for my son)?’ Of course, the endless taunts did not help Akhilesh in any way.
On his way to his paternal village, Kesho kept dreaming about his grandiose plans for his grandson. Suddenly, his Tata Safari came to a screeching halt. Kesho’s head hit the front seat.
‘Boodbak! You idiot! Don’t you know how to drive?’ an angry Kesho shouted at his driver.
‘Huzoor, I can’t go further. The bridge has been blocked by a tree. Our men will have to get down to remove it.’
‘Toh hatao na (So remove it),’ said an irritated Kesho.
Two of his personal bodyguards got down reluctantly. The tree was huge.
‘We need some more men. Do-teen aadmi aur aao,’ shouted one of the beefy guards.
Two more men got down from the escort vehicle.
The four men tried to lift the tree trunk. Their combined strength finally moved the tree a bit. This is exactly what Vijay had wanted.
The improvised explosive device went off as soon as the tree trunk was moved. The four guards were blown to smithereens. Their limbs and torsos flew in the air, landing several feet away.
Kesho was absolutely shaken. Fear gripped him.
‘Reverse le, bhaag,’ he shouted at his driver at the top of his voice.
The driver tried to reverse the SUV as fast as he could, but rammed straight into the escort jeep behind it. The jeep’s driver simply could not move his vehicle. The other end of the bridge had been blocked by a Tata 407.
Vijay and his men jumped down from the Tata 407. Kesho’s two remaining bodyguards were sitting ducks. They were killed even before they could cock their rifles.
Vijay casually walked towards the SUV. Kesho was drenched in sweat; he knew death was knocking on his door. Yet, he did not want to go down without fighting.
Vijay tapped on the window.
‘Kesho, tera time khatam (Kesho, your time’s up),’ laughed Vijay.
In one swift moment, Kesho pulled out his pistol and pressed the trigger.
Vijay was totally taken aback. He had not expected Kesho to carry a weapon.
But the pistol jammed. It seemed Kesho had not serviced his pistol for a long time.
Vijay smiled. He knew luck was with him.
‘Aur le licenci tamancha (Your licenced pistol is of no use).’
Kesho slumped forward as the shots from Vijay’s gun hit his chest.
Vijay then pointed his gun at the driver’s temple.
‘What are you doing? I told you Kesho Sir’s schedule. I followed all your instructions,’ pleaded the driver.
‘Then follow my final instructions. Mar jaa (Go die)!’
Vijay laughed deliriously. His men looked at the carnage. Eight people had been murdered that day.
‘From now on, I will be called Samrat, the king. Vijay Samrat!’
From that day, Vijay Samrat became the undisputed king of Nawada and the adjoining areas.
Vijay had built up a legend around himself. His barbarity knew no bounds. He also loved creating a spectacle out of his killings. Just like Bollywood potboilers, he would enter a man’s house, drag him out in full public view, break his limbs one by one, then go for the teeth and, finally, bludgeon his head.
Vijay rarely used a weapon––though he was surrounded by AK-47-wielding goons, he preferred desi kattas. Firing a desi gun gave him an inexplicable thrill.
With every murder, Vijay’s legend grew. The more daring his escapade, the greater the legion of admirers and followers he had. Bihar has always had a strange culture of hero worship. One has to be either extremely good or extremely bad to be adulated. For every famous IPS officer they looked up to, there was also a dreaded criminal like Vijay that the people were in awe of. As more and more people, particularly unemployed youth, joined Vijay’s gang, his criminal empire also expanded. Vijay had his finger in every pie, be it extortion, kidnapping for ransom or illegal mining. Politics was a natural progression for Vijay Samrat. The local politicians flocked to him to support their candidates. Vijay loved his role as kingmaker. So terrifying was he that the candidates he supported were elected virtually without any opposition. And anyone who dared contest Vijay’s candidates was simply eliminated––in the most macabre manner.
10
‘Loha Hi Lohe Ko Kaat Sakta Hai’
Rajesh Charan, being the town SHO, used to come every morning to report to me. He had impressed all my predecessors with his personality and performance. But somehow, I never warmed up to him. There was something about him that I didn’t find quite right. I have always had a fantastic sixth sense, a gift of being able to judge people very quickly. I hoped that I was wrong this time.
‘Arre, Amit, so proud of you, my friend. Yaar, Rajesh mera apna bhai hai (Yaar, Rajesh is my own brother). Please treat him as your brother too,’ an excited Anupam Charan, my batchmate, had said. It seemed he was expecting that I would be extra generous and cordial to Rajesh, now that I was his immediate boss. It was quite a natural expectation too.
‘Sir, your house is being readied. I have instructed the contractor to use the best distemper. Does madam have any choice for the colours of the interiors?’ asked a beaming Rajesh. He knew that his brother had called me. This was the time for him to earn a few brownie points. Politely yet firmly, I told him to concentrate on the policing aspects and leave the renovation work to the contractor.
The house was basically a two-and-a-half-room structure, with one bathroom. Since my family was about to join me, I used to visit it every evening to check on the progress of the renovation. The house was in bad shape, but I was hopeful of turning it around. This would be my one contribution to my successor––he could live in a small yet well-maintained house. The other contribution would be Vijay Samrat’s arrest. I was confident of both results.
Shekhpura was teeming with policemen in the aftermath of the twin massacres of both Ram Dulars and their families. Kumar Sir had personally deputed extra force in all the villages that might possibly be attacked by Vijay. Many police parties were sent to raid all of Vijay’s possible hideouts. Some of his associates were arrested too, but somehow, I was not very impressed with the ‘standard’ police response to this situation. I knew that police operations would soon lose steam, and Vijay would be hardly affected by the arrest of some petty gang members. His gang had to be eliminated this time, and that would happen only if some of his trusted lieutenants, like Horlicks, were arrested. Or Vijay himself. Otherwise, the gang would grow again like the Hydra.
Vijay had strong support from the local population, both out of clan considerations as well as the fear of retribution. The moment a police team left the police station, Vijay got a message alerting him. Someone like him, who frequently held press conferences in the district with great impunity, would have very little difficulty in finding out the police’s plans. O
ur department had his moles too.
I had to think like Vijay if I wanted to catch him. At times, I certainly think that I could have been a successful criminal too. That is what one panditji, an astrologer whom my family regularly consulted, had predicted when I was a child. ‘Mataji, aapka beta ya toh criminal banega ya police-wallah (Mataji, your son is destined to become either a criminal or a policeman)! His stars are aligned in such a way that he will be associated with the world of crime.’
My mother had become quite worried about my future after my poor performance in IIT. I did not have a job and very few people had confidence in me passing the civil services exams. So she started showing my janampatri or horoscope to various astrologers. Needless to say, my mother was quite relieved when I joined the Indian Police Service.
My back and hip started hurting all of a sudden. ‘Shit,’ I grumbled before getting into the blue Gypsy.
I asked my driver to take me to the Kasar police station.
An unshaven man, his skin darkened by constant exposure to the sun, was waiting for me just outside the police station. Ranjan Kumar, the former SHO of Kasar police station, had been put under suspension by the Police HQ. It seemed as if he had aged a decade in the last week. The second massacre had taken place in his jurisdiction. I hobbled out of the Gypsy and somehow managed to stand straight. Ranjan was in civil clothes, because a policeman is not allowed to wear the uniform when suspended. He was in the police station to hand over charge of the maalkhana, the police depository, and all the cases.
Ranjan saluted me by whipping to attention, impressing me with his sense of discipline even in adversity. I feebly managed to return the salute.
I signalled to my bodyguard and my driver to leave––I needed to talk privately to Ranjan. Barely able to control my pain, I stood by the bonnet of the Gypsy. Ranjan was a little tense. Why would the SP come to see a disgraced, suspended SI?
‘Ranjan, I want to know the exact reason for the massacre of Ram Dular and his family, every single detail.’
‘Sir, I don’t know much about it. It happened out of the blue.’
‘I know that Krishna and Raju had beaten up Lakha a few days ago. The murder of five of Vijay’s men was the tipping point. That angered Vijay enough for him to commit the cold-blooded murder of Ram Dular’s family. Look, the government has posted me and the DIG here only to arrest Vijay Samrat. It is our top priority. You have to help me in this mission.’
‘But, sir, what can I do? I am just an ordinary SI, that too, suspended,’ a resigned Ranjan muttered.
‘Ranjan, I know your competence. You’re a very capable officer with an excellent network of spies. And I know that you are on good terms with Raju and Krishna.’
‘No, no, sir. Why would I know shady characters like Raju and Krishna?’ Ranjan denied vehemently.
‘I have been in the service long enough to know that certain people have to be developed as sources. If not a criminal background, these people will at least have dubious antecedents. I, too, have engaged such people to get information about criminals in my previous postings. Come on, do you think a normal, decent person would become a police informer?’
Ranjan kept staring at the ground, unwilling to speak further.
It was time for me to come up with an ace.
‘Ranjan, you are under suspension. Strict disciplinary action will be taken against you. Your career is at stake. If you help me nab Vijay Samrat, I promise you that I will get your suspension revoked and you will get your job back. With full honours.’
Ranjan’s eyes lit up for the first time. I knew that he was short of money and his wife was suffering from depression. People around him had changed after his fall from grace. Who could know that better than me? I had gone through almost the same experience just a while ago.
‘Okay, sir, I am with you. I hate Vijay Samrat anyway and I know your reputation of standing by your subordinates. Tell me, what can I do for you?’
I just smiled and made a call to M.A. Hussain, the IG of the Bhagalpur zone. A strict, no-nonsense but idiosyncratic officer, he was known for taking tough stands.
‘Sir, this is Amit Lodha, calling from Shekhpura. Yes, sir, I’m on the job. I assure you that Vijay Samrat will be behind bars soon. Sir, I would be very grateful if you would accede to one request. I’m going to use the service of one officer to catch Vijay. In the times to come, I might require a favour for him.’
M.A. Hussain listened to me intently. There was a long pause.
‘Okay, Amit. I hope the favour you are seeking won’t be bigger than the arrest of Vijay.’
‘Certainly not, sir. Quite a trivial matter.’ I smiled as Hussain disconnected the line. Both Ranjan and I knew that M.A. Hussain was a man of his word. Reputation travels fast in police circles.
‘I want to meet Raju and Krishna. Get them to my house in a day or two,’ I told Ranjan.
‘Sir, are you sure? I mean, they have dubious reputations and your meeting them might sully your image.’
‘I know it’s a risk. But I have no choice. Loha hi lohe ko kaat sakta hai (Only iron can cut iron)!’
11
‘Aap Suspend Ho Gaye Hain’
Ranjan had worked in the Naxal district of Lohardaga in Jharkhand before coming to Bihar. On his posting to Shekhpura, he had expected a peaceful life. He had had enough skirmishes with Naxals in the jungles of Lohardaga. Little did he know that he would have the most harrowing experience in Shekhpura.
Ranjan was made the SHO of the Kasar police station in Shekhpura. Vijay Samrat’s influence was substantial and his word was law in the area under Ranjan’s jurisdiction. After just two days of Ranjan joining as the SHO of Kasar, Vijay sent an emissary.
‘Huzoor, Vijay Bhaiyya has sent his regards to you. We would be happy to provide you with newspapers and supplies of chicken, mutton . . . Anything you want, sir!’ said the messenger with a smile.
‘Don’t you dare enter the premises of this thana again! I can very well afford to pay Rs 250 for a monthly subscription of the newspaper. Get out!’ yelled Ranjan as he shooed him away.
Ranjan was now determined to put Vijay behind bars. The offer he had made was an affront to the police department. But Ranjan soon realized that Vijay was no ordinary criminal, considering all the things he heard about him. He was the undisputed king of all that he surveyed.
Ranjan weighed his options. He had limited manpower––just four constables. One of the constables was always on leave. Ranjan asked one of the earlier SPs for more force to conduct raids against Vijay and his gang.
‘Ranjan, aap issi force se kaam chalaiye (Ranjan, you will have to manage with this force). I am sorry, I don’t have any spare jawans,’ said the SP categorically.
Shortage of manpower had become a common situation in most police stations in Bihar towards the end of 2005. The new government then came up with the rather effective idea of getting ex-Army jawans to work on a contractual basis for the Bihar Police. The ex-Armymen came to be known as the Special Auxiliary Policemen (SAP), and they greatly augmented the strength of the Bihar Police.
Luckily, during the earlier assembly election, Ranjan had got a company of the Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) officers to maintain law and order in his area. This gave him a chance to go all out against Vijay. In fact, Ranjan narrowly missed catching Vijay after a fierce clash. Soon, his reputation as a scrupulous and fearless officer travelled across Shekhpura. It was then that Raju and Krishna decided to approach him.
‘Bada Babu, both of us have the same aim. The end of Vijay Samrat,’ said Krishna.
‘Why do you want to help the police?’ asked Ranjan with a little suspicion.
‘Sir, I think Raju will tell you,’ Krishna said, looking at Raju.
Raju’s eyes welled with tears.
‘Sir, it is true that till a few months back, we considered Vijay the messiah of the downtrodden. We also supported him as our leader. In the parliamentary elections, Vijay exhorted all of us to vote for Rajne
esh Don, a man from our own clan,’ said Raju.
Rajneesh Don was infamous for leaking the question papers of all prestigious exams such as the SBI Probationary Officer’s Exam and CAT, the IIM entrance exam. A number of doctors, especially, approached him to get their children admitted to prestigious medical colleges. After all, the doctors had made huge investments in their nursing homes and hospitals. How would their ‘talented’ children run those hospitals without degrees from good colleges? Rumour had it that he had helped a few subordinate government officials too. In fact, the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) had constituted a special task force to nab him. I also played an important part in his arrest since Rajneesh Don belonged to Nalanda. Such was his clout that he fought the 2004 parliamentary elections from Begusarai and got more votes than P.P. Jha, the former DGP of Bihar.
Raju continued, ‘But Vijay was one greedy man. Another powerful candidate offered him a bounty to sway the votes of our men in his favour. Vijay readily agreed. My brother protested strongly. How could we go against our people?’
‘Vijay did not tolerate any dissent; he did not like anyone speaking against him. Raju’s brother’s dead body was found in the fields the next day. His eardrums had been punctured and his tongue had been cut,’ Krishna completed the story.
Raju started sobbing. ‘Not only has he murdered many of his own men, he has raped countless girls and women. And nobody dares lodge an FIR. That would be like signing your own death warrant.’
‘Vijay loves killing people. One more case only adds to his aura,’ continued Krishna.
Ranjan was convinced that Krishna and Raju were the ticket to the capture of Vijay Samrat. He asked them to provide all the information they had on him. ‘Do whatever you can to finish him. I am here to support you,’ said Ranjan.
A few days later, Lakha, one of Vijay’s henchmen, tried to molest Ram Dular’s sister. An agitated Ram Dular sought Krishna and Raju’s help. It was time the members of Vijay’s gang were taught a lesson. Lakha was caught unawares and thrashed badly. This ‘success’ emboldened Raju and his men. They looked for an opportunity to carry out an attack on Vijay’s group.