Along the lines of an idea clash

RS Dalal

I was posted at Ambala for practical police training in March 1976. In the very first week, I was assigned supervisory charge of the district Police Lines. The lines were established by the British in the 19th century, and seeing them, I always felt as if time had stood still. The banyan trees with thick straggling aerial trunks and their huge canopies reminded one of the Raj era. The mud-and-brick dull yellow barracks, housing the policemen, wore a dilapidated, dull and uncared-for look.

The hustle and bustle at the lines made up for the uninspiring quietude of those structures. There were hundreds of policemen living in forced bachelorhood in barracks. The only independent residence was that of the Lines Officer.

The lines were always bursting with activity. Every day was fully packed — morning PT, parade followed by weapons training, school, games and finally the mandatory evening roll-call. And no one could leave at any time without permission. The aim was to instil discipline through a tough boot camp-type training schedule.

Thus, no policeman wanted to be posted to the lines. The expression ‘Line Hazar’, because of such bleak personal prospects, was taken as officially insulting and socially stigmatising. Surprisingly, even the public knew about it. They vociferously demanded instant ‘transfer to lines’, whenever they had a complaint against a field police official.

I was expected to attend morning parade twice a week and evening roll-call once a week, apart from playing games with policemen regularly to promote esprit de corps.

But maintaining discipline amongst such a motley group of policemen living together in barracks was quite a challenge. Despite close monitoring, instances of minor misdemeanours were still reported.

One morning, when I was on a surprise round, I noticed two policemen standing before the lines officer’s room. ‘Why have you been made to stand here?’ I asked. They dug chins deeper into their chests and didn’t look up. ‘Sir, they are charged with queer sexual behaviour and the night duty officer caught them in flagrante delicto,’ explained the lines officer, who was red in face with anger. ‘Didn’t I tell you to sanction leaves liberally?’ I joked to calm him down. ‘A grave misconduct deserving harshest punishment, sir,’ he indignantly maintained.

‘Modern-day psychologists have thrown up new light on these frailties,’ I said as the two accused were profusely asking for forgiveness. ‘Can’t we give them another chance to mend their ways since they are so full of remorse?’ I asked him. ‘No provision for any mercy! The inquiry has to be as per the rules,’ he was clear. ‘Don’t we have to take into account the new research on the subject?’ I countered. ‘Sir, discipline is enforced only with a strong hand,’ he said with dead seriousness.

And divergence of ideas and approach between a hard-boiled cop and a fresh young entrant to service would thus go on and on.