Confession of a Common Man

There was a great uproar on the narrow lane which passed underneath my third floor flat. I peeped down through the window.  Before, I could react; there was great thumping on the door.  A khaki clad policeman broke open the entrance door and entered. I turned back and opened my mouth to say something. Within those seconds, I got a huge blow on my chest from the baton of the rifle that the policeman was holding. I fell down on the floor. I was gasping for breath. I saw people mostly in khaki filling the entire staircase.  I saw my wife running towards me from her daily one hour puja rituals before I lost my senses and fainted. When I regained my consciousness after fifteen odd minutes, things have somewhat calmed down. I saw a police inspector gazing at me. I got up. I had problems gathering my breath. I was profusely sweating. My wife and the police inspector briefed me.

Somebody had taken a pot shot at the minister who was passing on foot through the narrow lane with his entourage and security protection. The minister was transported to the nearest hospital where he was pronounced as brought dead.

The inspector was waiting to ask some questions from me. By that time, he had already lost interest in me. My wife had told him that I had undergone heart surgery. She also told that I was still a serious patient with cardiac and bronchial asthma combined. He asked me whether I had seen some untoward activity. I told him that I was trying to see through the window when the door crashed. He asked some elementary questions regarding my antecedent, health, neighbors, the locality and its inhabitants. All these stresses triggered my asthma. The inspector left in a hurry.

Later, my wife told me that a couple of policemen had ransacked my entire house in the intervening period. Here again, the hardware remains of my hard lived life made me a benign object futile for further investigation.

It took almost six months for the news to fade out from the media. Neither the assailant, nor the weapon could be recovered. The police visited me and several others in the building, a couple of times more to give the case some kind of a logical conclusion.

I knew this minister from the days of my college. How could I forget? He used to sit in the library to gaze upon the girl students. He used to sit in the common room to give guidance to his hordes of ruffians. One day, he was sitting very close to me in the library when two of his goons came to him. They were asking him to arrange some money to buy liquor for the evening gathering. The minister in making advised them to steal two or more bicycles from the stand and convert the same into money. When my college time was over, I found that one of their victims was my Hercules bicycle.

This man outsmarted me into getting a scholarship as he was from a backward caste and belonged to a poor family. He again outwitted me from achieving better percentage than me in the graduation examination.  Somebody from the Masters class sat in the examination on his behalf. I lodged a complaint with the University. His misdeed was exposed through a handwriting comparison.

I went on to acquire a Master’s degree and an employment in a steel plant. He left studying and joined politics. In no time, he became quite notorious for corruption of all kinds. The law of the land was such that all scam cases accumulated since last 20 years were still awaiting judgment.

 At the age of 50, I was made in charge of the newly commissioned Lime & Dolomite Plant. That man was invited to inaugurate the Plant in the capacity of Minister of Industries. He tried not to show any remembrance when my CEO introduced me. Instead, he showed more interest in the lime stones that were travelling on the conveyer belt so much so that some dust entered his gaping mouth.

The minister was furious. He collected the dust-enriched saliva in his mouth, bent his head sideways towards the CEO and spat all the 100 ml onto his person. The minister was notorious for insulting in such a way... The CEO had reason to be unhappy. The entire rage ended with my suspension for violation of pollution control norms.

After retirement, I could only afford a two room flat on the third floor of a private house in a very congested narrow lane. The stone-laid lane was only 3 meters wide. All the houses were three stories high with common side walls and almost a common roof. One could easily hop from one roof to the other. 

This lane originated from the main busy road of the town. It terminated at a huge waste water canal leading to the river some one kilometer away. In fact, the lane was built upon a great canal through which town's waste was discharged into the river. Ironically on the banks of this canal lived the outcasts of pre independence period now categorized as the scheduled caste by an Act. During the daytime, this lane sucked smokes from the vehicles running on the main road. In the night, it got engulfed with the smokes from burning flesh of pigs and mouse which was the favorite food of the residents of the canal bank. During busy hours, it was the din and bustle of the traffics. The nights echoed with high pitched smart languages and songs from the drunks and not-so drunks on the other side.

The asthma that I acquired as an occupational hazards went berserk.  The moments that I relished most were the early morning walks up to the river and after breakfast to and fro stroll on the roof. I liked to stare from a corner well shaded by a crown of an aged Mango tree. The shade gave me privacy from almost all sides. In the evening, the entire roof became a playground of children with a particular interest in kite flying and Pitto (a game of pebbles).

I very much wished that the scoundrel minister visited this lane to have an experience of the level of pollution. Nobody ever told me to never think of the devil. Suddenly, the minister found a good vote bank deposited by the side of the great canal. He announced a massive residential colony to be erected upon the canal with all necessary amenities for the benefit of the temporary dwellers.

 

The minister paid a visit on every Wednesday morning to the site of construction. The motorcade used to stop at the entrance of the lane. The minister along with special security task force and his entourage of around 100 persons traversed the lane on foot. There was no other option. He had to negotiate a manhole by the side of the Mango tree on his way. Every Tuesday night, the lane was thoroughly swept and made ready for the ensuing visit.

One Wednesday morning, when I began my morning walk towards the river, it was still dark. Suddenly I found that the manhole cover had been stolen. The iron cover must have been very heavy. The thief had broken it into pieces to carry away. A six inch triangular piece that was left of the entire manhole was lying there. It weighed almost 1.5 kg. I lifted that piece for putting it adjacent to the wall so that nobody gets hurt.

An idea struck me like a bolt. I took that piece with me to my flat. I calculated the free fall velocity from a ten meters high roof top and the resulting momentum with which it would hit the ground. It worked out to be astounding 50 Kg that too with three dagger like edges. I went to the corner of the roof and let fall a one rupee coin freely and vertically into the open manhole. My cricketing experience was going to be quite handy. I tried a piece of brick strewn on the roof. It fell exactly vertically downward into the gaping hole.  I had to become entirely perfect to execute my plan.

During summer vacation, we, children used to assemble around a well. The well almost dried due to summer heat. We could see water deep down at around 30 feet. We used to throw a plastic quarter plate. We, in turn, played the dropping pebble game. He, who used to hit the plate most in ten attempts, became a winner. This was our daily pastime. I practiced the same pebble game for around half an hour. I had more than 40% success. I knew that with such probability object hitting the target was almost nil. But this attempt would have a dreadful warning effect on the entrouge. I was confident that the triangular iron piece would follow the gravity law more faithfully. I was ready. I went downstairs to my flat and sneaked out to the roof just before the minister's visit.

Nobody bothered to take any care of the gaping manhole. The minister came. He saw. He stopped. He became furious. As was his habit, the gushing water and the noise attracted his inquisitive mind. He looked down into the hole. His followers bowed their heads in embarrassment. Something heavy hit the minister like a bolt from the blue. He fell down never to rise again. His Para central lobule was wide open with blood oozing. The only evidence fell into the gaping manhole. The flow of polluted water sucked the evidence obeying the famous Bernoulli’s Theorem. It is the same theory by which smoke emanating from the chimney head is sucked by high velocity air. The downward storm water flowing with high speed dragged the same slowly and steadily towards the flooded river. By the time the investigating agency had any such inkling, the dagger like iron piece was resting in peace in the deep depths of the river.

Confession of a Kangaroo: Touch and Go

Summary : Kangaroo courts are known for their speedy and ruthless trials and execution of the judgement . These courts are not legal but forces the legal machinery to act swiftly. Justice delayed is justice denied.

It was years back. Now I can safely narrate the prelude to the accidental death of one of my  co-passenger on the Howrah-Ranchi  Express. His half eaten body was found three days after in the jungle of Ghatshila near Jamshedpur by the side of the Railway track. He seemed to have slipped from the footboard of the running train . I was  also called for interrogation by the police. I said that I thought that he got down at Jamshedpur while I was sleeping. Jamshedpur was his parental home.

We were returning from Calcutta after appearing in the qualifying examination for selection as a Probationary Officer in a nationalized bank. So were hundred of others. There were no seats or berths available on the train, such was the crowd that volumized due to returning examinees. Some were sharing berths and seats with others; some were squatting on the floor; a few were enjoying the fleeting wind by sitting on the footboard and a some less fortunate were standing.

Mahendra was remotely known to me. He was doing post graduation in Mathematics while I was undertaking Physics. Both of us got employed in the same company. He was in HRD while I was in quality control.

Mahendra was tall, dark and handsome. He became easily the odd person out among us. As such, he was also lucky regarding girls. He easily found  girlfriends. We used to envy more so when he boasted that he had 29 or so and would complete a century by the time he married.

We had grabbed a seat each by the side of windows while the general compartment was still waiting to be towed out of the shunting yard. After we settled down,and in between conversation,  I asked him about the latest  score. He replied smilingly that it was 32.

It was an overnight journey. As the train was due to start, we  saw two girls peering inside the window  frantically searching for a place in the compartment. Mahendra recognized one of them. He asked her to come inside. We gave one window seat to the two girls and shared the other between ourselves. They  had also appeared in the same aptitude test.

By middle of the night, almost all passengers were sleeping; some on the seats, some on the luggage berth and some on the floor. Surprisingly, everybody had a place to sleep. Only Mahendra and the girl had a lot to talk. I might have also slept for a while.

I was awakened by the cold air hitting my right shoulder adjacent to which Mahendra was sitting and providing warmth.  I found Mahendra and his newly found girlfriend missing. A few minutes after, the girl came staggering and sat on her seat. She was crying. A moment after, Mahendra came and sat by my side. I could very well imagine.

I tried to ignore. But the girl was looking dangerous. She was staring with wide red shot eyes at Mahendra. It looked to be more than just touch and go affair. Mahendra could not stand the girl’s hateful stares. He left the seat and proceeded towards the door perhaps to pass the remaining journey somewhere else.

After considerable coaxing, the aggrieved girl mumbled her agony to her companion. Mahendra volunteered to escort  the girl to the toilet through the sprawling bodies of sleeping passengers. He did more than that. He gate crashed and succeeded.  This was too much for me. It filled me with disgust when I conjectured that most of his exploits might not have been compromising but forced . I made up my mind to give a piece of my mind to Mahendra.

It was almost 3 AM in the late night. The train was passing through the dense jungle of Ghatshila. Mahendra was standing at the open gate . He was smoking and staring into the night of the jungle, perhaps savoring the experience.  

I let him take the last puff at the cigarette.

Bonafide Kangaroo Courts : Need of the Hour

Summary: Kangaroo court which passes quick and ruthless judgement is described as a sham legal proceeding. Kangaroos are one of the most docile and well behaved  animals. It may be because they present a blank stare like a jury and have great leaps.  

Kangaroos are the biggest marsupials. Their main diet is grass. Over 2 meters tall, they move in the mob (herd) of over 50. Found mostly in Australia, they are harvested for flesh and skin.

Just like cows and goats, kangaroos are very docile animals .Sensing some threats, they pound their big hind legs in warning. On hearing barking of a dog, a fully grown adult male (called Boomer or Boss) gets terrorized and begins a frenzied shrieking. They fight among themselves, most of the times to win a female. They kick and bite. It is the only animal where female kangaroos (called flyers) have a built-in pouch to carry their infants.

They are not even remotely connected to people, places or matters concerning a court of law. Yes, when they sit on their hind legs like a tripod and have a vacant eye contact with the human being, one may relate them to the jury members . This frozen stare coupled with maximum speed of 70 kilometers per hour with 10 meters long leaps are perhaps the reasons to relate to some sort of fast track courts.

The Macmillan Dictionary describes,“Kangaroo courts are sham legal proceedings which are set-up in order to give the impression of a fair legal process…..” Compared to this, jurisprudence adheres to the proverb- “ Everyone has the right to be presumed innocent until proved guilty.” The law takes its own course, most of the times shaming the speed of an old tortoise.

However, we are quick and ruthless when it suits us. The same authorized machinery is silent when some innocents are killed in a legal police firing on a mob or when a place inhabited mostly be innocents is bombarded. For the innocents getting deprived by natural calamities, there is great dependence on the act of God when it comes to paying compensation.

Kangaroo court seemed to have become popular during the California Gold Rush(1849) or  Australia Gold Rush(1850). There used to be speedily carried out legal proceedings to decide upon the matters of land claim or the claim jumping by miners. Judges and judicial proceedings leapt like Kangaroos.

Such connotation is still prevalent in Major League Baseball and Rugby tournaments where instant punishment is meted to erring players or to maintain discipline. We may find such parallels in almost every walk of life, be it punishment like caning in educational institutions, on the spot fine/punishment/disqualification in sports and athletics, fines for breaking traffic rules, breaking glasses in routine household affairs et.al.

In countries where justice is delayed and hence denied, beautiful minds must come forward to convert sham Kangaroo courts into bonafide courts and restructure time management of the existing tortoise courts so that justice seems to be round the corner and not at an infinite distance.