Bihar Diaries

by Amit Lodha

  ‘Jaata hoon (I’ll go).’

  Instinctively, Vijay opened the door of his house and climbed up the common staircase of the block.

  In the meantime, I called Ranjan from my other mobile phone.

  ‘Ranjan, be ready for my instructions,’ I said in a hushed tone.

  ‘Sir, I can listen to your entire conversation,’ Ranjan whispered, unable to hide his excitement.

  The fact that Ranjan was also observing Vijay’s number had slipped my mind.

  ‘Even better,’ I thought to myself.

  ‘Haan, aa gaya hoon chhatt par (Yes, I am on the terrace). Can you hear me now?’

  ‘Much better, Vijay Bhai.’

  ‘Now!’ I commanded Ranjan.

  Ranjan was already clambering up the stairs.

  ‘Sir, yes, sir,’ he said, panting hard. Shiv Narayan, his loyal bodyguard, was close on his heels.

  Ranjan reached the terrace and flung open the door. There was no one. Ranjan’s heart skipped a beat.

  ‘Sir, the other side,’ shouted Shiv Narayan.

  Ranjan kicked open the other door leading to the terrace of the adjoining house on the first floor.

  Right in front of his eyes was Vijay Samrat.

  Both of them froze.

  Vijay Samrat, the dreaded outlaw, the man behind the gruesome murders of scores of people, the man who’d been cocking a snook at the police for the last five years, the man whose writ ran large in four districts of Bihar, was absolutely shell-shocked.

  ‘I told you the police would catch you,’ I spoke with absolute authority. This time, I spoke in my own voice and accent.

  Vijay kept holding the phone to his ear, soap dripping from his body. His mind was almost in a trance, refusing to believe what was happening to him.

  40

  ‘Sir, Pakad Liya’

  Then, all of a sudden, like a cat, Vijay darted towards the edge of the terrace.

  ‘Paagal ho gaya hai (Have you gone mad)? What the hell are you doing? You can’t escape,’ shouted Ranjan.

  Vijay growled. He jumped over the parapet and started slithering down the pipe. Without thinking twice, Ranjan also followed him.

  Both hung precariously from the pipe. Somehow, they managed to get down to the first floor.

  ‘Raju Bhai! Krishna! Pakdo isse (Get him). Don’t let him go,’ Shiv Narayan ran down again, calling out to Raju and Krishna for help.

  Suddenly, Ranjan’s hands slipped. Raju and Krishna looked up in horror.

  Luckily, Ranjan’s feet struck Vijay, who also lost his grip and tumbled down. Both of them fell to the ground, Ranjan over Vijay, the latter grimacing in pain. He bore the brunt of the fall. Still, surprisingly, he rolled over and sprang to his feet. Falling from the first floor had probably not caused much damage.

  Vijay’s lungi came undone, confusing Raju and Krishna for an instant, just the way a lizard’s tail diverts the attention of a predator.

  ‘Grenade toh nahin hai (Is there a grenade in his lungi)?’ Shiv Narayan asked. Of course, there was nothing in his lungi. It was an urban legend that Vijay kept a grenade or two in his lungi. So formidable was Vijay’s reputation that people actually believed it.

  Things were happening too fast. Raju and Krishna tried to catch him, but Vijay wriggled out of their grip, just like a slippery eel. The soap on his body probably helped him.

  But before he could run away, Vijay was knocked to the ground with a resounding thud. Ranjan looked at Shiv Narayan with deep admiration. Shiv had been a tremendous support. This was the second time he had knocked down a dreaded criminal, the first being Horlicks.

  Vijay looked at him with venom in his eyes.

  Ranjan punched Vijay hard on the cheekbone. That was the wrong place to hit. He hurt his hand, but it did not stop him from punching Vijay again, this time on his jaw.

  Raju and Krishna tied his hands with a lanyard and hurriedly pushed him into the Bolero. Ranjan and Shiv Narayan jumped in too.

  As soon as this was done, Ranjan called me. ‘Sir, sir, pakad liya, sir (Sir, sir, we’ve got him),’ he said jubilantly.

  I had been waiting for this for the last two and a half months. I went absolutely quiet. I didn’t know how to react. There was no emotion, just a vacuum. Now I realize how a mountaineer feels on climbing Mount Everest. He or she has no more summits to conquer. They feel totally drained––physically, mentally and emotionally.

  Tanu entered the living room and instantly gestured to ask what happened. It seems my wife has a sixth sense about what is going on in her husband’s mind.

  I just gave her a thumbs up. Tanu started jumping around with sheer delight. She was so happy for me. I hugged her.

  Ajit was standing in a corner, allowing us our private celebration, but I could see his eyes welling up with tears. He was such a loyal person, very much a part of my family. I went to him and patted his back.

  I called Kumar Sir to break the news.

  ‘Congratulations, Amit, well done,’ he said, reticent as always. But I knew how much of a support he had been to me. Apart from Tanu, of course, he was the one who had always believed in me. Most importantly, he did not interfere in my work at all. There was no nagging and no irrelevant questions, and he had not issued a single order. That is a rarity because quite a few bureaucrats love to write letters, giving hundreds of instructions, and believe that they have done their job.

  Next, I called M.A. Hussain Sir.

  ‘Sir, we are about to catch Vijay Samrat, maybe in the next half an hour. I sincerely request you to revoke the suspension of Ranjan. He is leading the team that will arrest Vijay.’

  For the first time, Hussain laughed heartily.

  ‘Okay, Amit. I’ll send the orders right away.’

  Hussain was experienced enough to know that in all probability, we had already arrested Vijay. He knew I was bluffing, but he did not mind. The order rolled out of my fax machine in ten minutes: ‘The suspension order of SI Ranjan Kumar is hereby revoked––by the order of IG, Bhagalpur’.

  The IG had kept his word. I was so happy for Ranjan. He deserved that and much more. He had almost single-handedly arrested two of Bihar’s most dangerous criminals, Horlicks and Vijay. Not only had Ranjan shown remarkable presence of mind, he had displayed bravery of the highest order. Vijay was known to come after the families of the policemen who crossed his path, yet Ranjan and Shiv Narayan had not flinched from this mission even once.

  After half an hour, an angry Ranjan called me, ‘Sir, sir, yeh saala gaali de raha hai. Bahut gussa aa raha hai. Kya karoon (Sir, sir, this piece of scum is swearing at me. I’m very angry. What should I do)?’

  Ranjan was absolutely flustered. Vijay was constantly swearing at Ranjan and company. He was back to his old ways. I pondered for a moment.

  Suddenly, my official phone rang. It was Kumar Sir.

  ‘Amit, I hope you are not thinking of harming Vijay in any way.’

  How the hell had Sir known what was going on in our minds? How could he have a premonition?

  ‘Uh, sir, it was just a fleeting thought,’ I muttered.

  ‘Don’t get any ideas. Vijay belongs to a powerful community and still has considerable clout. And gone are the days when cops could go scot-free,’ Kumar Sir said sternly.

  ‘Yes, sir, I understand.’

  ‘Ranjan, there is a clear no from the DIG,’ I explained to Ranjan.

  ‘But, sir, he has been using the choicest expletives for my family, my mother, my sister.’

  ‘Then gag his mouth.’

  Ajit had already gone to purchase sweets.

  ‘Sir, I am going to distribute mithai to all the policemen and staff working at the kothi,’ Ajit beamed.

  I was quite amused by Ajit’s excitement, and him calling my small two-and-a-half-room house a ‘kothi’. Such hubris!

  On the inside, I was still a little worried. Vijay was an extremely dangerous man. If he could escape from Nawada Jail, he could very well slip from Ranjan’s custody.

>   I kept pacing in my small garden.

  Every minute felt like an hour. It was strange. I had been so patient for the past so many days, and now, I could not wait any longer.

  Around 6 p.m., Ranjan’s Bolero entered my compound. A beaming Ranjan got down with a lovely smile on his face. I hugged him.

  Ranjan had already dropped Raju and Krishna off a few kilometres from my residence. Shiv Narayan remained seated in the back with his fully loaded carbine pointing at Vijay’s head.

  Ranjan opened the door. A gaunt, weary man slowly crawled out. Finally, I saw Vijay Samrat, the villain of my story. He was very thin and short, nothing like the persona he had cultivated over the years.

  Ranjan removed the gag from Vijay’s mouth.

  ‘SPaiyya kahaan hai (Where is the SP)?’ snarled Vijay as he surveyed the group. He was down but not yet out.

  By this time, my entire house guard and staff had assembled. They could scarcely believe that the dreaded fugitive was standing right in front of them.

  ‘Hum hain yahaan ke SP (I am the SP of Shekhpura),’ I said in a commanding voice.

  Vijay, clad in his lungi and ganji, looked at me incredulously. From the look on his face, I could tell he found me way too young to be the leader of a district’s police. My casual attire of shorts and T-shirt made me look even more boyish. Vijay did not like the fact that he had been outfoxed by someone so young and inexperienced––at least, according to his expectations. That is the beauty of the IPS. The service trains an officer to lead the police force from the very beginning of his career. An IPS officer becomes the equivalent of a CEO at the average age of twenty-seven or twenty-eight.

  ‘Kal yahaan par hum garda chhuda denge (I’ll knock all of you to smithereens tomorrow). You’ll know who the king of Shekhpura is,’ Vijay growled. It was clear that he was trying to put on a brave front.

  Ajit moved forward, seething with rage.

  ‘Saale, aukat mein rah (Stay in your limits),’ he raised his hand to slap Vijay.

  ‘Ajit, wait.’

  Ajit stopped at my command.

  ‘Go and call my cook, Bhim Singh.’

  Everybody looked at each other. Why on earth was I calling my cook? Surely I was not going to offer Vijay some Bihari delicacies like litti chokha?

  Bhim Singh, the rotund cook, came running out.

  ‘Ji, huzoor.’

  I pointed towards Vijay.

  ‘Push this guy hard, as hard as possible.’

  Bhim Singh was quite taken aback at my order. He was, after all, a simple cook, even though outrageously bad at his job. He wondered why he was being asked to assault a scrawny, lungi-clad man when the compound was teeming with policemen.

  But I knew Bhim Singh was delighted. He had always secretly desired to be like his uniformed colleagues. The rolling pin was not for him. He wished to use his hands to hold a rifle. Today, he finally had a chance to act like a tough guy. ‘Must be some petty criminal,’ he thought.

  He pushed Vijay softly. Vijay growled, flashing his gutkha-stained brown teeth.

  ‘Abe, itna bada hai (You are so big and look at you). You are behaving like a sissy. Shove him so hard that he falls,’ I commanded Bhim.

  Bhim did not like being slighted in front of everyone. This time, he put all his weight behind it and shoved Vijay hard.

  Vijay fell to the ground and lay motionless. I got a little worried. I checked his pulse and gestured to Ajit to get some water.

  Bhim looked around triumphantly.

  Vijay was already dehydrated and fatigued. The last thing I wanted was for him to pass out in my residential compound.

  41

  ‘Put On Your Uniform’

  Ajit sprinkled some water on Vijay’s face. He got up, abusing all of us. And then, just like that, he started sobbing uncontrollably. Finally, it dawned on him that he had been arrested. The shove from Bhim Singh had totally shattered his fragile ego.

  The DSP took Vijay to the town police station. I called the DG and briefed him about Vijay’s arrest. He was pleased and immediately broke the news to the CM.

  I asked Ranjan to wait. I went inside to pick up the IG’s order. I waved the paper at Ranjan and gave it to him to read. Tears trickled down his checks.

  ‘Put on your uniform. You look very good in it.’

  Ranjan wiped his tears and saluted me. He went to a corner and called his wife.

  There was hot kadhi–chawal, my favourite, for dinner. I called Bhim Singh to the table.

  ‘Do you know whom you pushed today?’

  ‘Ji, huzoor. It was Vijay Samrat. I didn’t know earlier. I wish I had recognized him.’

  ‘You know, Vijay was asking about you. He said that he would teach you a lesson for life.’

  Bhim Singh put the utensils down and started shaking. ‘Sir, what did I do wrong? Why have you put my family and me in so much danger?’ Bhim started sobbing.

  Tanu consoled him, ‘Arre, mazaak kar rahe hain (Arre, he’s just joking).’

  Once he had been pacified and had left the room, Tanu looked at me sternly and admonished me. ‘What was the need to scare him? And why did you ask him to shove him?’

  I remained silent. Vijay’s myth had to be shattered. People had to be freed from the shadow of his fear.

  I went to the bedroom and looked at the dozen mobile phones that had been my constant companions for the last few months. I switched them off and put them in my drawer.

  The next morning, I reached my office to hold a press conference.

  ‘I had promised that I would arrest Vijay before Independence Day. Well, today is 13 August.’

  Ajit ushered in Vijay, the erstwhile don of Shekhpura and Nawada. There was pin-drop silence for a moment. Then all hell broke loose.

  The flashlights kept going off, and the press went berserk. It was the biggest news in the state that day. I just kept smiling and answering questions. I did not disclose Ranjan’s role. Not only would that lead to a lot of uncomfortable questions, it could potentially put Ranjan in jeopardy.

  All of a sudden, Vijay shouted, ‘These powermongers have used me and cheated me. They will pay a heavy price.’

  Before he could make any more disclosures, Ajit took Vijay away from there. I felt relieved. I knew Vijay was telling the truth, but I did not want the press to be diverted by his tactics right now. He was a criminal and deserved no sympathy. I came out of the office and was greeted by a thunderous applause from the crowd. All my officers and jawans had a jubilant smile on their faces.

  ‘Sir, that lady there is Shanti Devi,’ whispered Havaldar Shiv Narayan in my ear.

  I walked towards Shanti Devi, my path through the throng being cleared by my bodyguards.

  ‘I can’t thank you enough. You have done the Shekhpura police a great service.’ I left her with an absolutely confused look on her face. I had kept my promise of thanking Shanti Devi.

  I was about to go home when I got a call from Rajesh Charan.

  ‘Sir, sir. Come quickly to the Shekhpura Chowk. Look at what has happened to Vijay Samrat.’

  I rushed to the chowk and was appalled by the sight of Vijay. He had been garlanded with shoes and slippers. Someone had shaved off half his moustache and also half his head.

  It was absolutely shocking. Vijay was being paraded on the streets of Shekhpura. People were spilling out on the roads, pushing each other to get a glimpse of Vijay, the terror of Shekhpura.

  The circus went on for some time before everyone could be rounded up. I rebuked the escort party and put an end to the spectacle. Vijay looked at me with bloodshot eyes. I could see absolute hatred in them. I did not explain anything to Vijay, though I knew that he was holding me responsible for this public humiliation. Though Vijay was more of a beast, his human rights still had to be respected.

  Vijay was sent to the prison amid extremely high security. I put a special guard outside the Shekhpura Jail lest Vijay try some Nawada jailbreak-type escape. The guard comprised thirty to thirty-five jawans of t
he BMP and SAP.

  ‘Sir, the petty criminal you talked about that day, was he Vijay Samrat?’

  It was DSP Rajiv from Pakur.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied gingerly.

  ‘Sir, you could have told me,’ said an upset Rajiv. ‘My SP was not very happy with me. I had to listen to a lot, sir.’

  ‘I am sorry, Rajiv. The situation was such that we did not have time to tell you anything,’ I lied.

  Of course, I could not tell Rajiv the real identity of Vijay. I had learnt from my bad experience during Horlicks’s arrest in Deoghar.

  My phone kept buzzing for the next two days. I got congratulatory messages from all over Bihar. I was more relieved than happy. Finally, it was over. Eventually, I switched off even my personal phones. I did not want to hear the ringtone of any phone, at least for a few days.

  Tanu was very, very happy for me. It was finally time to relax a bit. I switched on the TV and looked for the ‘Krazy Kiya Re’ song.

  ‘Chun, there is no need to search the TV channels. Your heroine is right in front of you.’

  I looked up. Tanu was wearing a short dress and looking absolutely stunning.

  ‘Wow,’ I whistled.

  She was back to her fit avatar. In fact, I had put on some weight. I had hardly exercised in the last two months.

  ‘I’ll just get some chocolates from the fridge.’ I got up to go to the kitchen.

  When I went back to my room, I got a huge shock. Bhim Singh was standing in our bedroom. His mouth was wide open, wide enough to stuff a handful of rasgullas into it.

  ‘Bhim Singh, what are you doing here?’ I was livid.

  ‘Huzoor, an important message has come from DM Sahib. I just came to give it to you.’

  ‘Darwaaza toh knock karna tha na (Couldn’t you knock)? You imbecile.’

  ‘Huzoor, the door was open.’

  ‘Now get out!’ I pointed to the door.

  Bhim Singh scurried away, glancing back one more time before leaving.

  Tanu looked at me and started laughing.

  ‘Couldn’t you have locked the door?’ I asked.