Lavanya came up with yet another piece of her personal logic. ‘Policemen also have families. Why should they take risks if they are able to retain their jobs just by making an example of one or two of soft targets? And if there is any injustice, people can go to court.’ Pinto knew that Lavanya was not saying this from her heart. She just wanted Pinto to stay away from the police.
Pinto was determined to dig deeper into that area. ‘Do you know how long it takes to get a decision from a court? Have you any idea of how impossible it is for an unimportant person to get legal help? If the complainant is a daily-wage labourer, can he afford to make endless visits to courts and police stations and neglect his work? Some of them bear the atrocities of the system, accepting it as their fate. The angry ones join a movement like the Naxalites, or turn to dacoity for revenge against the system.’
Pinto continued, ‘I’ve been reading about incidents such as these for a long time, but cannot distance myself from them any longer. The last time I travelled from Kanpur to Orai by road, I saw a policeman stop a taxi driver who had taken on more passengers than the rules allowed. Instead of imposing a fine, he told the driver to “become murga”—go into that humiliating crouch in imitation of a rooster—in full public view as punishment, then he took a small amount as a bribe from the cabbie before finally letting him go. Even if the taxi driver was breaking the law, was the penalty legal, or even human?’
‘I understand what you are trying to say,’ Lavanya tried to sound sympathetic, but Pinto broke in, ‘Do you see how the very people who are appointed to protect the law, have no hesitation in breaking it? And the ordinary citizen is no better. A passenger beats up a scrawny rickshaw-puller for asking for a higher fare, but would he similarly attack a government official who asked him for a bribe?’
Lavanya didn’t know how to respond to Pinto. ‘Look,’ she said, trying to placate him, ‘police atrocities are common around the world. You and I cannot solve that problem. It needs an entire social movement.’
Pinto was upset because she remained calm. He wanted, perversely, for her to feel as troubled as he was. ‘Don’t you remember when we were going in a taxi to Lucknow, just a day before our wedding, to do some last-minute shopping? They stopped all the vehicles on that highway there because there was an election day in the city. We were stuck for four hours on the road because they had been alerted to booth-capturing entrants to Lucknow. Silly them, they always focus on easy targets. Sick people could have died because they couldn’t reach hospitals in time.’
Pinto had evoked a rare memory. Lavanya was a little gentler in her response this time. ‘How can I forget that?’ she said, suddenly looking away and blinking shyly.
They both remembered how the jolting of the vehicle had thrown their bodies even closer together than they’d already been, when they’d climbed into the taxi and immediately experienced the kind of privacy that only that rattletrap had provided them so far. Lavanya had pretended to hold onto his knee for balance over the rutted roads. Secretly thankful for the halted traffic, and encouraged by Lavanya’s touch on his leg, Pinto decided to try his own hand at showing Lavanya how much he looked forward to deeper explorations of her full body. All it fetched him, when his search took him to places that were still off-limit, was a hearty slap, followed by a forgiving giggle.
Now, recalling those first shy tender efforts to own each other, Lavanya said boldly and without hesitation, ‘You know, Pinto, that drive had been—till that moment when we were rudely stopped—the happiest time in my life. We were finally and openly a couple, going out to together on a purpose that was solely ours. It felt so cosy for the first time in my life. I felt like I’d never be lonely again. We were not planning a big show at our wedding, but whatever little we were, was spoiled by those guys. And you also behaved so strangely. I asked you to phone your contacts to get us out of a jam but you refused. You told me you wanted to face the problem the way the common man has to. I was so pissed off!’
Pinto, finding that Lavanya was secretly softening her stand, brought up another example. ‘In an article in the papers recently, they wrote about a sad end to a love triangle in our very own city. Two girls, Shilpa and Gurpreet, were in love with Sanjeev. Sanjeev ignored Gurpreet. She was madly in love and couldn’t tolerate Shilpa. So one day, she bought some petrol in a loose can, poured it over Shilpa in the night, threw a lighted match at her and burnt her alive.’
‘Oh, no! How could someone be so cruel! No wonder Sanjeev didn’t love her. So what happened next? Did the police take a bribe from Gurpreet promising not to arrest her?’
‘No, but it caught media attention. The authorities responded in the stupidest way imaginable. They blindly stopped the sale of loose petrol everywhere in the city. As if everyone buying it had murder in mind! And sillier still, people could still buy petrol for their vehicle or generator, as long as you had the machine or vehicle with you.’
Lavanya stayed indifferent, ‘So what, how does it matter to us or to anyone?’
Pinto was in no mood to let this go. ‘You didn’t hear the whole story,’ he said impatiently.
‘Go on,’ Lavanya said sulkily.
‘My friend Abhay went to buy petrol in a can for his generator. The petrol station attendant said, “Sir, if I fill this, the police will shut down our pump for two whole days.”
‘Abhay went to the nearest police station and asked the inspector how he’d get the petrol for his generator.
‘The inspector replied coolly, “Get the generator and fill it at the station.”
“‘What if it runs out of petrol in the night?” Abhay argued.
“‘Well then, too bad. I can’t help you. We have orders from higher-ups. But you can do one thing. If you have a two-wheeler, get its tank filled and then you can later siphon off as much petrol as you want for your generator at home.’”
Lavanya listened with only half an ear while Pinto ranted on. ‘Almost everybody in India owns a two-wheeler, don’t you see? If it was so easy to get the petrol into a can via your two-wheeler, what was the point in implementing these rules? Sheer misuse of power and an open display of foolishness.’
Lavanya persisted, ‘Interesting, but it’s easy for you and me to laugh at them. But what about the officials themselves? They need to show some action in order to hang on to their jobs. I still don’t think you should get mixed up in all this.’ She waited and then changed the subject with a woman’s typical shrewdness. ‘Oh!’ she said, as if she’d just remembered. ‘We were supposed to go and get ourselves groomed today. You’re wasting time.’
But on the drive to the salon, Pinto picked up from where he’d left off. ‘If police won’t curb lawlessness in this country, the public will be quick to take advantage. One can be “innovative”, too, you know, Lavanya, while following the law. I’ll give you an example.’ And Pinto launched into his secondfavourite pastime: telling a story.
‘At one time, there were some tanneries and other small-scale industries causing water pollution in Kanpur. When people living in the neighbourhood started contracting waterborne diseases, they complained to the authorities. The factories were warned to have their water-purification equipment in place within a month.’
Lavanya interrupted again, ‘That was all drama. Those Inspectors wanted a bribe, nothing else.’
Pinto went on, ‘Maybe this time they were in earnest for once, due to public pressure. When the inspectors visited the factories again after a month, the pollution had reduced to the required levels. One factory drew their attention because the pollutants there were virtually zero. The team asked the owner how he maintained such a high standard. He said he had superior imported equipment. It was later discovered after a search of the premises, that the guy had drilled a deep hole in the ground and was draining all the polluted water into ground water. He called it “reverse boring”. He was actually doubling the damage already done. And do you know where it was?’
‘How would I know where such crap takes place
?’ asked a slightly irritated Lavanya.
‘It was just two blocks away from where you lived in Kanpur. So you were using contaminated ground water.’
‘Really?’ Lavanya was surprised.
‘Yes, that water corrupted your brain as well. That’s why you get angry so quickly.’
Before Lavanya could react they had reached their upscale unisex parlour in Kalyani Nagar. The place was always crowded and it was maddeningly difficult to get a parking spot.
Typically, the municipality would deploy a guy who’d give you a parking slip, charge the money and assist you with the parking as these spots were generally crammed with cars.
Pinto took an available spot, the parking man showed him the hand sign to continue moving his vehicle and then told him to stop. Pinto placed the parking slip on his dashboard, paid the fee, and walked towards the salon along with Lavanya. Pinto warned Lavanya, ‘Be quick, just the haircut. I’ve a meeting with some investors today.’
When they came back, they found a lock on their front wheel. Pinto was startled into saying, ‘What the fuck is going on?’
Lavanya noticed something. ‘You know, there is a phone number written in chalk on the rear windshield.’
They were not able to understand what was going on. A passer-by smiled knowingly, at the same time coming up with a classic insult, ‘Saale, traffic police wale…’
Pinto called the phone number and was told to come to the nearest thana, which happened to be a kilometre-and-a-half away. Pinto nearly blew his top. On their way there in an auto rickshaw, a cursing Pinto was venting his spleen at Lavanya, ‘What did I do wrong? The car was in a proper place, with the fee paid. We just spent barely thirty minutes inside the parlour, so there is no question of overstepping our time.’
Lavanya calmed him down, ‘What’s the big deal? If it’s something serious, call your contacts.’
‘No, I will not. Let me see what these guys do.’
At the thana, they found a bald fat constable surrounded by a variety of people… rich, poor, young and old… a true example of diversity. There was, of course, no queue. Somehow, Pinto was able to pass over his slip. The constable gave a shrewd smile, ‘Sir ji, you are going to make the police department really wealthy.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked a bemused Pinto.
The cop’s villainish grin could have been lifted from Amrish Puri, ‘You have to pay 5,000 rupees as fine.’ And not sure how deep Pinto’s pockets were, or whether they would meet the police ‘quota’, he added smarmily over his shoulder to his lackey, ‘Get a chair for Sir.’
Pinto asked, ‘What is this fine for?’ He was finding it difficult to bear the man’s crooked smile but he hadn’t a choice.
The constable responded, ‘Our SSP sir is running a special drive for two weeks to impose stiff fines on all vehicles which were encroaching on footpaths.’
‘But I parked my car in a designated parking spot!’ Pinto protested.
‘It doesn’t matter, the car has overlapped the footpath,’ said this constable without any expression other than the typical smile.
Pinto thought, ‘Footpath… my foot. There is hardly any footpath.’ But it was like reading a book to a buffalo.
The fine itself was not a big amount to him—it was the injustice of it all. ‘But your guy directed me to that space! If I hadn’t parked according to his instructions, he wouldn’t have let me park. I want to talk to your officer.’ Pinto tried to corner the man.
A senior officer entered and after hearing the story, conveyed his decision, ‘The police are not responsible for what the parking contractor does as he comes under the municipal department. The job of the police is to penalize anyone whose car intrudes on a footpath.’
They didn’t know who Pinto was.
‘Whether it’s police or municipality, it’s all government to me,’ Pinto snapped. ‘Why should a citizen worry if two departments of the government have a disconnect?’
‘You can go to court if you like,’ said the officer as carelessly as before. ‘Till then, your car stays here.’
Education does several good things to you, but it also makes a coward of you. Before doing anything, you’d think at least ten times about the consequences. Pinto paid the fine and came back. It’s not considered dignified for ladies to go into a police station in India so Lavanya was waiting outside. When she came to know all that had transpired within, she began to view the ‘system’ with Pinto’s eyes. But she was practical as well, ‘Darling, it’s just a single unfortunate episode. People pay you 50,000 rupees to lecture from a dais for an hour. Why would you waste your day over 5,000?’
Pinto was of different mettle. He called his journalist friend.
The next day, the story was published in a Marathi and an English newspaper with his photo and a picture of the parking slip. It also revealed his identity… ‘well-known scientist for the common man…’ Several FM stations and local TV channels also broadcast his interview.
After all the media coverage, Pinto got a call from the superintendent of police, Pune. A fast-talking, authoritative voice said, ‘Mr Srivastava, we are really sorry about what happened. We are investigating the matter and will take appropriate action. But you should not have parked your car on a footpath.’
Pinto tried to explain his side of the story once again, pointing out the lack of coordination between the police and the municipal corporation. The SP listened to him, was apologetic but, at the same time, very diplomatic in his conversation. ‘Mr Srivastava, we also have our limitations. If municipal guys won’t listen to us, what can we do? We have to do our duty. I really apologize for what happened. ’
But his apology didn’t come from his heart. There was an artificiality to it, showing his regret arose from no real concern for a wronged citizen, but from fear of police ineptitude being exposed in the media any further. Basically, the SP was saving his own ass.
Pinto also got a call from the police station he’d gone to. ‘Sir,’ the voice said, ‘We are really sorry about what happened. We didn’t know that day who you were. SP sir has given us a severe scolding.’
Pinto’s comeback was, ‘If you don’t think it was my fault, give me back my money.
‘Sir, I can give you that money from my pocket but it’s very difficult to get something back from the government which has already been deposited,’ the man went on.
Then he explained the long process involved in getting such money back. By the time he was done describing the many steps that would have to be taken, Pinto actually felt sorry for the benighted cop, and gave up. But not without learning an important lesson.
Nor sparing Lavanya’s ears from having to listen to his grumbling on the matter. ‘When I couldn’t get my money back, after so much exposure and media coverage, there is no way for a common man to take on the police, or for that matter, any other government department. Could I have got my money back? Of course, if I spent a month on it or called higher authorities. Think about how much worktime I’d have lost because of that. Come to think of it, I was wrong to back off.’
Lavanya still resisted conversion to his point of view. ‘You must have read or heard of cases where people have devoted their whole life to fighting the government over individual issues. Is it worth sacrificing your life? If you go to Jantar Mantar in Delhi, you’ll find a lot of people living somehow in tents in all weathers, some of whom have been protesting their causes for the last twenty years. Nobody listens to them. Winning one or two cases against the government after dedicating all of your life and resources to the effort, is a waste of time.’
Pinto was not ready to give up, ‘See, that’s the point you are not getting. We have to fight to change the system—it’ll be worth the sacrifice.’
Lavanya’s father had been in government service. He passed away when she was young. The memories she had of his unswerving loyalty to his job, despite having to struggle to support his family on his meagre income, had stayed with her. She knew that people in the
government, especially the police, could be dangerous enemies. ‘Stick to the changes you can bring about in the system as a scientist and a technologist,’ she told Pinto tearfully. ‘You don’t have to change society itself.’
But Pinto’s thoughts were already on another track. ‘Could I change the politics and administration in this country through technology?’
TWENTY-FIVE
W
hen Lavanya turned to go into the kitchen, still wiping her eyes, Pinto was left to think his new thoughts undisturbed. ‘Was it really possible to enforce honesty on government officials through scientific means? When corruption is a thing that feeds on itself? When a victim of corruption turns into a corrupt man himself, given the opportunity?’
While he was still assembling his thoughts some days later, another incident took place, again related to the petty business of parking. Pinto had parked his car on the street in front of a bank where he always did. The municipal parking attendant was not there that day. Pinto thought he might have gone for lunch. Other cars were also parked where he left his own.
When he came back after completing his bank work, he found—yet again—a chain on his wheel and a phone number of a policeman in chalk. He called the number. A lady picked up the phone and very politely said, ‘Sir, I’m sitting in my truck just a little further down the road from where your car is parked. Could you come there, please?’
Pinto was pleasantly surprised that police personnel could be so polite. Pinto was ready to pay the fine, irrespective of whether he was at fault or not, just for her courtesy.
He merely lightly said in his defence, ‘I always parked there.’ The lady constable said, ‘It used to be all right to do so but we have stopped parking there for the last fifteen days. It’s a busy street, sir.’ It was not clear to Pinto how a street became busy in fifteen days. He couldn’t help but say, ‘Madam, at least you could erect a no-parking sign.’
The policewoman had arguments ready for the asking. ‘Sir, we do that but people just steal the signs. What can we do?’
Pinto Has An Idea Page 21