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  ‘Arre, how could I have known that someone would enter the bedroom?’

  She hugged me. I shrugged her away, still angry.

  ‘Arre, hero, Shekhpura ke James Bond. Why are you so angry? Don’t you also ogle at heroines?’

  ‘Tanu, this is not a movie and you are the SP’s wife.’

  ‘Don’t be so old-fashioned.’

  Tanu started laughing again. I could not control my laughter any more.

  ‘Saala Bhim Singh!’

  The scourge of Shekhpura was behind bars, but I still had some unfinished business. I summoned Rajesh Charan to my office.

  ‘Jai Hind, sir.’

  ‘Rajesh, you slimy creature. You are a shame to the department. It’s because of you that honest policemen get a bad name,’ I said, seething with uncontrollable rage.

  ‘Sir, sir . . . what have I done?’ Rajesh asked, shaking like a leaf.

  ‘Don’t you know what you have done?’

  I threw the printout with the call details of Rajesh’s phone in front of him.

  ‘I would shame you publicly if I had my way. You are suspended with immediate effect. I’ll ensure that you are dismissed.’

  Rajesh went pale immediately. ‘Sir, maaf kar do. Galti ho gayi (Sir, please forgive me. I made a mistake).’ He started crying.

  ‘Just get out before I lose my cool. Out, right now!’

  Ajit motioned for Rajesh to leave.

  ‘And take off that uniform. You don’t deserve it.’

  Just then, Ranjan entered my office, looking smart in his police uniform. He was beaming from ear to ear. I felt proud of him.

  ‘Ranjan, you have done an extraordinary service to society. But we need to ensure that Vijay and Horlicks are convicted. Get me a list of cases pending against them.’

  ‘Sir, that is easier said than done. There are dozens of cases against Vijay and Horlicks. But who will become a witness? Who will depose against them in court?’

  I realized that we had to strategize to get this trial on track. So Kumar Sir, I, the SP of Nalanda and the SP of Nawada got together for an official meeting. The four of us discussed which case to try Vijay for. After much debate, we decided that the escape from Nawada Jail would be our best bet because the police staff themselves were both witnesses and victims and would be able to testify more easily than laypersons who did not have the same level of security and the means to defend themselves. Finally, we had a plan to put these dreaded criminals behind bars for good.

  42

  ‘Saregama’

  I had been quite fit during my training days. I loved sports, squash being my favourite. In the past few months, partly because of my stiffness due to arthritis and mostly due to my obsessive pursuit of Vijay, I had not exercised at all. The small love handles on my sides were a blow to my vanity. I needed to get back in shape. Unfortunately, there was no gym or sports facility in town.

  ‘Do we have any badminton or tennis courts in Shekhpura?’ I asked the DSP.

  ‘Sir, you know the state of affairs here. Even the bigger towns like Gaya and Muzaffarpur have no sports infrastructure. Clubs in Patna allow marriages to take place on the lawns of their tennis courts these days. Who bothers about sports in our country?’

  He was right, but I still prodded him to find a place with any kind of sports activity.

  That evening, the DSP took me to a small club and proudly showed me a TT table.

  ‘Sir, tennis toh nahin mila (Sir, I couldn’t find any tennis court). But you can play table tennis here.’

  The TT table had only two legs––the other two were missing. Somebody had put bricks in place of the missing legs to balance it.

  I was quite disappointed. I had never been interested in playing TT, that too, on a table with crutches!

  Later that day, I got a call. ‘Boss, I have heard you are planning to start playing sports. Why don’t we play badminton?’

  It was Shrikanth, the affable DM of Shekhpura. He had worked with me as a subdivisional officer (SDO) during my Nalanda days.

  ‘Where do you intend to play? There’s no court in the entire town,’ I asked.

  ‘Arre, sir, we will play in the FCI godown. I’ll ask someone to arrange for a net and put the markings. See you tomorrow evening.’

  I was delighted. Tanu, Shrikanth and I started playing in the evenings. Soon, the chief judicial magistrate (CJM) and a few other officers joined us. We had our own court now. So what if it had uneven cement floors, yellow bulbs that flickered and rats devouring the sacks of grains lying all around?

  It was our own Siri Fort Stadium!

  Life continued at a languorous pace. I watched all the movies that I had missed not only in the past few months, but in the past few years.

  I also focused on honing my inner Kishore Kumar and sought the services of a music teacher.

  He came home with his harmonium. ‘Sir, gaaiye. Please sing sa, re, ga, ma,’ urged the teacher earnestly.

  After listening to me a few times, the music teacher realized that I simply did not have the talent for music. Unable to bear the cacophony, the teacher vented his frustration on the harmonium.

  ‘Oh! Sir, I think the harmonium has been damaged. Please give me a few days to get it repaired.’

  I still believe he deliberately damaged the harmonium. That was the only way he could save himself from the third-degree torture.

  After a week, the government transferred Vijay to Gaya Jail. Horlicks was sent to Bhagalpur. It was the right decision––Shekhpura Jail was not secure enough to keep both of those highly dangerous criminals, that too, together.

  Meanwhile, I could finally concentrate on my family. Aishwarya was crawling all over the house, and I would chase her on my knees. Avi was doing well in his studies, and this made Tanu quite happy.

  ‘Chun, I think we should try to make Aish walk now.’

  ‘Tanu, ho jaayega. She will walk. What is the hurry?’

  ‘You have a tendency to avoid everything. You did the same when Avi was growing up. Even during the potty training of both the kids, you did not help me at all.’

  ‘Yaar, you are always complaining. Come on, this is not my job. I am busy arresting criminals,’ I replied. Anyway, I was not good at these things.

  ‘Mister, you might be a “sahib” everywhere else, but not in this house. Don’t expect only me to do all the kids’ chores just because I am a woman.’

  As always, I knew she was right. So we made Aish walk around the edges of the table in our living room. I walked behind her to support her in case she lost her balance. It turned out to be great fun.

  My idyllic life was interrupted by a phone call from the ADG (Intelligence).

  ‘Amit, I have some disturbing news for you’. The ADG’s tone was quite sombre.

  I wondered what it was. Everything that could go wrong for me had gone wrong three months ago. Now my life was finally back on track after a long time.

  ‘Amit, Vijay is targeting you. Tell me, do you go to play badminton every day?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I do.’

  ‘Then please stop. We have confirmed intel from our sources in Gaya Jail. Vijay has instructed his men to attack you at the badminton court. You’ll be an easy target there.’

  ‘Sir, thank you. I’ll take care.’

  I put the phone down and pondered.

  The ADG was absolutely right. My fixed routine and the totally unguarded premises of the FCI godown were ideal for someone to ambush me. I would be a sitting duck in the badminton court.

  I decided to stop playing. For a few days, I managed to stay home, but I did not like this house arrest. It was just too much for me. Not only was it extremely depressing, it was a challenge to me. As a district SP, I could not live like a coward. What would people think if they came to know?

  I requested Kumar Sir to send me a bulletproof Gypsy from the Munger police lines. I also got an AK-47 from the Patna Police HQ. I already had my 9 mm Glock pistol, but an AK-47 would be better in a gun battl
e at close quarters. I increased the security around my house by deploying Special Task Force–trained commandos and some SAP jawans. Still, my house was quite unsafe. It was in an isolated corner of Shekhpura, with almost no habitation close by. Power outages were quite common. I started storing extra diesel for the generator. I even installed an inverter to have the lights on in case of an emergency.

  A few days later, I noticed that a Bolero would frequently cross our house late at night. It was as if someone was doing a reconnaissance of our house. The children would play in the small garden––it was their only entertainment in Shekhpura. I thought that it would be quite easy for anyone to just lob a country-made bomb into our compound and harm the kids. All these thoughts constantly ran through my mind. It was difficult sleeping at night with a cocked AK-47 next to me.

  The DM was quite shocked––there was an AK-47 lying next to my badminton racquets.

  ‘Boss, what is this?’

  ‘Arre, it’s nothing, yaar.’

  ‘Then why are you carrying a gun with you inside the court? What if it goes off?’

  ‘Shrikant, don’t worry. An AK-47 or any gun will not fire when the safety catch is down.’

  ‘AK-47! It is an AK-47!’ the CJM joined the DM and subdivisional magistrate as they all looked at the gun.

  ‘Sir, you are scaring us. Everything all right, no?’

  ‘Yes. Come on, let us play.’

  Nobody enjoyed the game. There was no focus or energy. It seemed that all the civil and judicial officers were distracted by the sight of the AK-47 lying next to the badminton kit.

  The next day, I kept waiting at the FCI godown––none of the players turned up. I picked up my phone to call the DM.

  ‘Huzoor, koi faayda nahin hai (Sir, it’s no use calling anyone),’ said my driver.

  I put the phone aside and looked at him.

  ‘Huzoor, DM Sahib got quite worried yesterday. When he came out, he saw a posse of guards all around the court, absolutely ready in their crouching positions. And he got really unnerved when he saw the bulletproof Gypsy outside the godown,’ said my driver with a hearty laugh.

  But the DM and other officers did not find it funny. As so my dream of becoming a badminton champ came to a premature end. Instead, I started doing some martial arts training in my house to keep myself fit.

  Back in the office, I received a letter from a human rights organization.

  To,

  The SP, Shekhpura,

  Sub: Violation of the human rights of an accused undertrial

  This is to inform you that the Helping Hands Organization hereby takes cognizance of the recent incident pertaining to one Vijay Samrat.

  You are directed to explain your actions by Friday to the office of the undersigned.

  Yours faithfully,

  Sd

  Member Secretary,

  Helping Hands Organization

  I was quite angry, naturally. Firstly, Vijay Samrat was not ‘one Vijay Samrat’. He was the most feared criminal of Bihar. I failed to understand why the organization cared so much about his human rights. Secondly, I had done no wrong personally. I was the one who had stopped the humiliation of Vijay that day. Instead of bouquets, I was getting brickbats.

  The DSP, Yash Sharma, was a mature person, well-versed with the functioning of various agencies and organizations.

  ‘Sir, don’t worry. No harm will come to you.’

  ‘Have you read the letter? I have been asked to explain my actions,’ I said, unable to hide my anguish.

  ‘Sir, I will prepare a defence on your behalf.’

  ‘Still, what answer do I give them? How do I explain the incident?’

  ‘You tell them it was the public of Shekhpura that garlanded Vijay with shoes. And that is a fact. We have witnesses. Moreover, the police party escorting Vijay was suspended that very day for dereliction of duty. I knew that this issue would snowball and Vijay would try his best to trouble you. Legally and otherwise.’

  I smiled and thanked Sharma. The police department has many such loyal and experienced people to bail you out of trouble.

  Later, I learnt that the organization had been flooded with complaints against me and the Shekhpura police. Obviously, they were all sent by Vijay’s men. But this was just one of the sinister plans Vijay had plotted against me.

  I knew I had to get Vijay convicted quickly. I requested the district judge of Nawada to start the trial on a priority basis. We arranged all our witnesses and got the evidence in order.

  The trial was held in the fast-track court in Nawada. The quick trial of the accused by these fast-track courts is one of the reasons crime in Bihar has gone down significantly since. The SP of Nawada would go to the trial every day with adequate BMP and SAP staff to make sure that everything was conducted properly. Vijay would be transported every day in a special anti-landmine vehicle to prevent attacks from his enemies as well as to discourage his own gang members from trying to free him.

  The evidence we had put together ensured that we had a watertight case against Vijay. We used the fact that he was always absent during roll call in jail in the days after his escape in 2001 as proof that he had got out by force. It was as if an errant student had been marked absent by the class teacher. Apart from that, the post-mortem and injury reports of the jail staff and guards who had been killed and hurt in the escape attempt also contributed to the evidence. It was a landmark verdict, wherein Vijay was sentenced to life imprisonment. Our joy knew no bounds. The judgment was a brilliant culmination of the hard work of the entire police department.

  43

  The Attack on Avi

  After a few months, I was transferred to Begusarai, the lovely place I had wanted to be the SP of when I was officiating in place of Rajesh Bhushan, my friend. Life had come a full circle. Tanu was the happiest. The kids were growing up. Aishwarya had started eating greens and dals without much fuss and Avi had started going to the DAV school in the IOC campus. We too had gone back to playing regularly in a proper badminton court. The DM, Hansraj, was a dear batchmate from IIT. Life could not have been better. Or so we thought.

  One day, Tanu was sitting with Mona, the DM’s wife, at the IOC’s annual charity event.

  ‘Madam, madam, jaldi aaiye. Come fast!’ the havaldar said frantically.

  ‘What happened? Tell me!’

  Tanu could sense something catastrophic had happened.

  ‘There has been an attack on us!’

  ‘What? Who all were with you?’

  ‘Sir and Avi Bhaiyya,’ the havaldar said and started crying.

  Tanu dropped to her knees, unable to control her emotions.

  ‘Both of them are all right, Memsahib. Chandi Mata has saved them.’

  Tanu rushed to Begusarai Chowk, which was swarming with policemen. DSP Pankaj and Kotwali SHO Sanjiv came forward to meet her.

  ‘Madam, your son is safe.’

  She ignored them. Her eyes were searching for Avi and me. There was a sea of humanity in the area. Thousands of people had gathered for Durga Visarjan, one of the most important festivals in Bihar. Her eyes kept moving to and fro, but then stopped suddenly. She saw Ajit inside a shop, holding Avi tightly in his arms, shielding him from any imminent danger.

  Avi was giggling with joy and slurping his favourite mango ice cream.

  She started walking towards them and instinctively increased her pace.

  Avi looked at her and jumped into her arms. She hugged him as tightly as possible, controlling her tears with great difficulty.

  ‘Sahib kahaan hain? How is sir?’ she asked, her voice choking with tears.

  ‘Aa rahe hain sir (Sir is coming). I just spoke to one of the guards with him,’ replied Ajit. ‘Madam, bhaiyya was getting bored in the house. So, sahib asked me to take him around the marketplace. We thought Avi Babu would enjoy the mela, he would see the various idols of Durgaji.’

  She remained quiet while she checked the wound on Ajit’s temple. Luckily, it was not deep.

/>   ‘We got down from the Gypsy as the market was very crowded. Sir and I could sense that some people were following us. I instructed the guards to keep watch around us. Then bhaiyya asked for ice cream,’ Ajit paused to catch his breath. ‘Suddenly, sir saw two suspicious-looking characters coming towards us. Their hands were in their pockets. Sir sensed that something was wrong. Instinctively, he shouted at the guys. They just stopped in their tracks and turned around. Sir started running after them, which was not the right thing to do. He was unarmed as he had no reason to carry a weapon. So many of us were with him. Initially, we did not know what to do––to run after sir or stay with Avi Babu. Obviously, we could not let sir go alone after those criminals. I sent the guards to help sir. The havaldar and I stayed back with bhaiyya,’ Ajit continued.

  ‘We waited for sir to come back. All of a sudden, from the corner of my eye, I saw two more people running towards us. Before I could take out my pistol, one of the goons hurled a desi bomb at us.’

  Tanu immediately visualized how Ajit must have curled himself around Avi and taken the entire impact of the bomb. He had been extremely lucky. The bomb maker had probably not put the right amount of explosives in the bomb. The bomb did explode on impact, but the shrapnels did not travel with enough velocity to cause any lethal damage.

  The havaldar was shaken too, but had taken position and fired some random shots in the air. The goons realized that they had missed their chance and beat a hasty retreat.

  Just then, Tanu saw me limping down the street, escorted by three constables.

  ‘I am fine, Tanu,’ I said and smiled at her.

  The floodgates opened. Tanu could not hold back her tears any more. We embraced each other, with Avi trying to hold on to his dripping ice cream between us. I had never felt happier or more relieved. I might not have taught my children their ABCs, but like any other parent in the world, I loved them more than my life.

  I looked at Ajit. Blood was oozing out of his temple, and his shirt was torn to shreds.