THE AD OD AND SUGAR PETER: A PROBATIONER'S DILEMMA

"Why Wake "

- as my uncle would call me sometimes.

During our 'Basic Training'  in  Hyderabad at the Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel National Police Academy, a few ground rules were clearly laid out - but none was more sacrosanct and fiercely enforced than the one about Fall -in at the PT Ground at 5.40 am. There were no classroom lessons to explain the advantages of getting up at reveille but it was almost an unwritten commandment that waking up early at the crack of dawn was the most important of the OLQs ( Officer Like Quality)  for a senior cop - like it was for the novices of a monastery to attend the matins. If you possessed  this OLQ, your other transgressions could be ignored. 

So if you were present at the ground in time, you could be  let off with a few ridicules and rebukes even if you broke your fall  in ten yawning movements before a Front Roll, stopped dead before the Horse Vault, walked the Saturday cross country run with hands on your hips or had as much dexterity to climb the rope as a spider in rigor mortis. The sky didn't fall if traces  of Old Monk of previous night's antiquity, as a reiteration of Locardo's Principle, hung around you on the PT Ground like a placard across a photographed criminal. The small matter of solving the Hindu Cryptic Crosswords in Criminal Procedure Code or Indian Evidence Act classes could be condoned, as could be bunking the afternoon  language classes  or the newfangled  MS DOS or UNIX sessions.

But woe betide anyone who would be late at the Fall-in time because then you you strayed  directly into the territory of the Assistant Director (Out Door)  or AD OD. The AD OD traditionally started as a much reviled, rarely loved but by some change of heart that attended most of the batches of IPS officers , would go on to  become the only faculty member who would be hoisted on the shoulders and cheered along at the end of the training. The incumbent  during my time was no different. 

He had a task to live up to the reputation of his formidable predecessors - the Straceys, Pratts and the Spadigams- and though much the quieter  after a recent Commonwealth Exchange programmme in England, was still a force to reckon with. Tall and well- built with a twirled, if not exactly walrus-ish, moustache, he was affectionately nicknamed Penta after a famous Punjab terrorist by that name and his Blue Lambretta was called the Neela Penta.

The early morning sight of Penta, kitted in his riding gear which included a horsewhip, riding his Neela Penta, had the effect which the spotting  of a tiger on prowl in the forest has on the monkeys and birds  - the first spotter shushed everyone, all took cover, people corrected their  state  of undress and slouch, cut their chatter, repaired the grin or smile on their faces and broke into an orderly file or line. 

He would personally visit the sick bay in the hospital and ferret out the malingerers from the genuinely sick. I kept a distance from him ever since his elbow had made a robust contact with my solar plexus in a basketball game.After eight months of life at NPA, we were sent to our respective states for district attachment.

Like my batch mates, I, too, went, equipped with , among other things,  this all important  OLQ . Burdwan it was in West Bengal- a huge district which included the mineral belt of Asansol, the industrial township of Durgapur, an amazingly fertile rural belt that formed part of the "rice bowl of Bengal" and the river of my childhood, the Damodar. The Superintendent of Police (SP)  was in the midst of Parliamentary Election preparation and wouldn't really be too much bothered with a probationer for sometime even though he made excellent arrangement  for my stay and transport. He had chalked out a training schedule which was not exactly very punishing and I pottered around excitedly for a couple of days before I chanced upon a four days' break to go to Patna.

My return journey was by Danapur- Howrah Express which arrived at  Burdwan around the same time  I was used to wake up in Hyderabd. But as a matter of abundant caution, I woke up a couple of hours earlier, much  before Asansol. I arrived at Burdwan, sleep deprived, and worked the whole day as tasked. Later in the evening, alone and a bit in the doldrums at Damodar Bhavan where I had put up, I  walked over to the SP's Bungalow chamber . Shortly the talk of SP visiting Asansol late in the evening, with a night stay cropped up and I, sloshed with foolish and unwarranted keenness, offered to accompany him.

" Yes, why not? Go, eat  your dinner. We"ll start at 9.00," he said. 

So I went back to my room, nibbled at some chapatis, siddho bhaat,  watery daal, a deem curry, jhuribhaja and a piece of very dry sandesh and hopped across.We set off around the scheduled time, driven by his maniacal  driver Ganguly, and reached Durgapur en route where we were joined by the local Additional SP. We arrived in  Asansol quite late  and  I vaguely recall  we went to a place called Mahavir Colliery which was in an utter chaos. Rescue work ( (the review of which was the occasion for the  Chief Ministers's visit the following day) to retrieve trapped workers of the subsidence -hit colliery  was in cacophonic progress. The SP discussed the police bandobast for the VIP visit for about half an hour. It was to be around midnight  that we started for our return journey to Durgapur CRPF Group Centre for our night halt. 

And then it happened. It was now close to twenty hours without sleep and I was swiftly and completely taken over by it. Sitting sandwiched between the two senior colleagues who were talking shop in Bengali, a language I didn't quite understand then, I slipped into what may have started as a doze  but had soon turned into an emphatic knocking - on- the- SP's -left-shoulder sound sleep. Nawal Kishore Singh was reputed to be a man with a lot of patience and even a sense of humour but he could see none in this. 

" Hey! Get up," he said, a tad irritably.

I mumbled my apologies and resolved to stay awake. There are times when your resolve stays with you and powers you to great heights of success. Then there are times when it deserts you completely. This time it just fled away with its tail between the legs, slapped and kicked out  by Hypnos, the God of Sleep, who had totally cast a spell on me. I vividly remember plunging into a sea of sleep, bobbing up and down, swaying left and right, sometimes gyrating in eddies as Hypnos gleefully tossed me around . To cut a long story short, I furiously knocked at the two senior officers  with a force which was as majestic as it was  random. What probably made matters worse was that the potholes added to the randomness so that neither of the two senior colleagues knew who was going to be knocked the next .

" What is wrong with this boy?" he asked the Additional SP, Durgapur after an interminably long wait for his sixth knock, a bit out out of disgust but more out of embarrassment at having been openly and nonchalantly knocked at by a mere probationer. 

Delegated the job, the Addl SP, already  hit thrice on the trot, moved in with a relish, alacrity and thoroughness for which he was to become famous in the service later on. I believe he also wanted to quickly dispel any doubt his superior may have had about him being responsible for the young officer's misconduct . He started with asking me a string of questions about my background, academic qualifications and interests. Engaged thus, I stayed awake and shortly we reached Group Centre, Durgapur without any further mishap.

"Someone show the probationer his room " the SP commanded, and went his way.

I was not sure who among the two was more relieved at my departure. I woke up to a miserable morning, remembering vividly the previous night's episode and wondering what would lie in store for me for the next eight months. On my first effective night  with my training SP, I had knocked the daylights out of his shoulders. As we were driving to the helipad, I decided I must apologise.

" I am extremely sorry for what happened yesterday, sir," I spoke with all sincerity.

 "This will never happen again I assure you," I added, calculating  that an apology , however sincere , must be followed up by robust assurances of good behaviour to have a reasonable chance of being let off  leniently. 

He looked at me, deep into my eyes. There was no anger, just a bit of bemusement. 

"It is not your fault Vivek," he said even as I arched my eyebrows in utter disbelief at this aggressive politeness, unsure whether the gentleman was being sarcastic or  truthful.

 "They teach you to wake up early at NPA ( Hyderabad)  but not to stay awake late."

"In the districts, this is going to be more important," Sugar Peter added with a flourish for effect before proceeding to bark a few orders on the wireless which was by now alternating between competing cackles and strange-sounding squelches.