NIGHTS OF THE NITES

The more avid of my readers would possibly recall that during my first year in college, I had gone  to India Gate to listen to Osibisa , an African band. My friend Amit Jha , in whose company Lady luck even at the peak of her jollivity refused to smile, was with me. There was a slight problem- we had no tickets to the show, and our pursuit for passes ended with a summary shove from the house of his Deputy Commissioner Dhiru  mama. Amit suggested we could get stoned,  go and enjoy from outside the venue.  We left no stone unturned , and fortified with a Rs. 10 Afghani from  Khanna’s at Kingsway camp left for India Gate. However, it was a no show for us  due to a basic glitch in planning- the show had been  long over by the time we reached ! 

Even after I joined service , my poor run of luck with these musical shows or “nites “, and functions like the jatras , continued. I was a probationer in Burdwan in 1990  when Lata Mangeshkar ji came to sing at Mohun Bagan  Ground . The venue was circled by a wall of sal barricading and corrugated sheets . I was detailed at one of the gates, and after the  people in the long , snaking queue  had entered the gate,  I went inside only to find a very agitated Addl SP telling the SP ' Sir aapki force phaltu hai.'

The Superintendent of Police,  the venerable Nawal Kishore Singh,  told him ‘bhai, yeh tumhari bhi force hai. Don’t bother , sit down , we will take care.’

 'Maliwal, jara dekho toh kya hungama ho raha hai, and take the probationer with you ,'  he ordered  his more reliable No. 2. 

So I got tagged with Mr. Maliwal , and we rushed towards the corner from where the unruly crowd was trying to gatecrash. The young Addl SP ordered a lathi charge, the younger probationer also joined him. We ran, chasing for over 50 meters , and then stopped as an eerie  silence from behind grabbed and pulled us up . Standing in the midst of  a sea of abandoned footwear , I looked behind. The posse of over twenty five  men  which had started out for the chase with us was nowhere to be seen , except our two security guards. 

‘Yeh hamesha hoga, always remember to look behind your back in such situations.’ 

Lesson learnt , we re- collected our men and made a further chase leading to a tear gas charge . 

Naina barse rimjhim rimjhim, Lataji sang,  as we got the gas in our  eyes  after  the breeze did a reverse flick and Ai mere watan ke logoN  zaraa aaNkh mei bhar lo paani accompanied us during our return trudge and lachrymal outpourings. 

A few months later, another such Nite  - of junior Bengal artists at Sidhu Kanu stadium, Durgapur. Shotgun Sinha had also come I recall. But what remains an abiding memory was the continuous lathi charge outside- apparently counterfeit tickets were sold leading to ruckus inside and riotous situation outside. Uma Shankar Mukherjee, the OC of Durgapur PS was able to crack the case, but the night had been more bruise than a breeze for many  of us. 

During my days as SDPO, Tamluk there was this Amit Kumar Nite  in Jhargram. From outside, the venue looked like one of the many circus locales  I had seen  in my childhood - Amar, Gemini, etc. Addl SP Kharagpur was in charge. At about ten in the night  the show started with a string of junior artists.  Then it became 11, and now midnight. The junior artists - a gaudily sequinned Shakeel here and a shimmering Shobujkali there-seemed to have exhausted  their repertoire and the audience’s patience . The jokes were falling flat, the gyrations were not enticing enough and the murmurs were getting louder. The police deployment at  ladies’  enclosure  was beefed up. Still no sign of Amit Kumar. 

Announcements were being made from time to time to reassure.  Finally around 1. 30 am when  our nerves had become quite frayed , Amit Kumar made his entry. 

As he stepped  on the stage he stumbled - one wrong step by him was a giant skip of beat  of every policeman’s heart. One could almost see every policeman on duty  bend  to catch and break his fall- their  safety depended on his sobriety . He collected  himself and straightened up. Next step and he lurched on the other side. The law enforcers also lunged instinctively to catch him from their positions.  Catcalls flew, a few liquid filled plastic packets as well. I thought this it was going to be bad, and uttered a silent prayer to steady the rocking  ship. The Almighty was  fortunately on  watch and He heard my prayers.

Amit Kumar composed himself, apologized endearingly , and promised to sing for three hours. And he lived up to his promise  and regaled right through the break of the dawn. It was one close shave for us .

A couple of years  later I was posted in Barasat . An organiser of Manna De Nite came over to my bunglow office late evening and informed that  the great singer had  gone back on his promise to turn up at Swaroop Nagar  despite having pocketed the advance .  He showed me documents to support his claim. 

‘When is the function?’ I asked. 

‘Sir, it is about to start within an hour today.’

If Manna De was not going to turn up, there was going to be serious trouble. Maybe even firing , I thought, as this district had a reputation of violent public protest to keep. Swaroop Nagar was on Bangladesh border with a fair number of mischief mongers , smugglers ,  transborder criminals - quite near to Baduria where police firing had taken place a few months ago during a jatra performance , and to Habra with its star studded Gobardanga and Massalandpur hotspots . 

I was equally bemused as to how many would would come to listen to  the maestro whose oeuvre was more classical and semi classical than the popular ones - I mean listen to Yeh kahaani hai diye ki aur toofan ki  and Laaga chunari mei daag . 

I immediately rang up Sunil Haldar , the SDPO Basirhat who was in charge of the police arrangements and informed him about this possibility.  

‘ Sarbanash ! he could not have described the possibility of mayhem better.

‘Sir, this is his phone number, he is putting up near Narkeldanga . You call him  up and tell him to turn up,’the organizer pleaded.

I thought no harm in trying.

‘Namaskaar, aami Bibek Shohay, Addl SP Barasat bolchhi.’

‘HaaN, bolun,’ the singer replied in a tone not very cordial, and not very deferential either. 

I explained to him that he had  committed to turn up at Swaroop Nagar that evening , having taken an advance, and that if he doesn’t go, there could be a huge trouble. He stated that he was not going since  the organizer , as per contract, had to pay the balance on his arrival at  Kolkata and had not paid . 

I cupped the mouthpiece and asked the organizer in front of me about this defaulting on balance amount.

‘ Sir, I promise to handover the balance by tomorrow,  well before his return flight. Right now, we are waiting for the ticket receipts to be calculated.’

Fair enough , I thought,  and uncupped the mouthpiece.

‘He will pay you tomorrow, you go otherwise there could be pandemonium at Swaroop Nagar,’ I tried to reassure and reason.

‘That is your problem, I will not go, that  organizer Tuhin is a fraud,’ Manna Dey replied in a tone as unreasonable as it was without any assurance.

I was absolutely livid , and  shouted on the mouthpiece, , ‘ I will get you arrested for  criminal breach of trust.’

I thought for a moment, foolishly of course , that Manna Dey might change his decision when the enormity of my threat would have dawned upon him.

‘ You can arrest me if you can, but I am  not going. Actually, I am flying off to Bombay tonight, ‘ he called my bluff and hung up. 

I was happy the phone didn’t have a speakerphone , so my came -with -a bang- left -with -a -whimper humiliation was a fairly private affair. 

My next phone calls  were  to the Reserve Inspector  for a section or two of  ( composite ) force, to Binay , the SDPO Bongaon to rush with available force and meet at some point under Habra PS ,  and finally to Sunil  Haldar to keep the show going on with the junior artists till we arrived .

I took me over two hours to reach  Swarupnagar PS where the local OC had already put the secretary of the organization behind bars. 

“ What for is this fellow inside?” 

“Saar, it is protective custody, it could save him from being lynched.”

Sanjit was a veteran of the field , impressively rotund as thanedars of most mofussil thanas are, and fully in control. 

The venue was not very far from the police station, and as we walked you could the cut the tension with a knife.  An ominous buzz was going around , and as I was contemplating the next step, a footwear flew and fell the microphone in front of the singer on stage , and soon a couple of chairs  found their target  in the huddle of sound technicians and a few constables .

These missiles also ended my contemplation. The decision was immediately made.  There was a wild lathi charge , the crowd ran in different directions, and surprisingly, dispersed  in a few minutes . Till date, I have always wondered as to how the situation did not deteriorate  further , but then I guess, sometimes one can be lucky. It was one of those days again.  I looked up  to thank the Almighty. 

The only thing I saw up above was a plane flying. 

‘Could it be Manna De ?’I wondered. 

Maybe as a token of the advance , he had at least flown past the venue.