Was I Duped ?

1980--Old Delhi Railway Station-- As I got down from the train and started walking towards the exit, i saw this man peeping into different compartments, as if looking for someone. That is the most common sight at any railway station and i did not pay much heed to him until he crossed me once again and passed a smile. At the exit gate of the station i again noticed him, who was looking at the passengers eagerly as if trying to locate some one in the crowd. He once again gave me a longer than required glance and smiled. I felt a little uncomfortable because he was a total stranger to me. I attributed his smile to the fact we both were wearing turbans in that crowd of unfamiliar faces. (I used to support a turban those days, until i got a haircut). It is human nature to cosy up to even a stranger in case there is something common between the two. Dressed in a khadi kurta paiyjama with a sleeveless short jacket, he was wearing an off white turban which went with his salt and pepper, free flowing beard. He must have been in his early fifties. If i was to guess his profession, i would have straight away put him as a school teacher or a caretaker of a religious place, owing to his gentle and matured looks. Now he was looking a bit worried and murmured as if complaining about something. I walked out and looked for some mode of transport which would take me to New Delhi railway station from where i was to catch my next train for Jalandhar. There were a number of trains which plied on New Delhi -- Jalandhar rout during day time and it was only seven in the morning. I did not have any reservation and would just hop on any of the trains. During my Army tenure i rarely got a chance to book my train journey in advance, whenever i proceeded on leave because leaves used to be sanctioned on very short notice. But more often than not, i used to manage to get seat/birth and being single those days i enjoyed that.

I always traveled light and that day too i was carrying a small suitcase holding enough clothes for spending a few days at home. The gentleman described above came and stood near me and now he said in a loud voice in Punjabi that his daughter-in law was to arrive by that train but was not traceable in the crowd. Since there was no one else around i looked at him and acknowledged his remark. He said with a frown on his brow that she had changed her programme without informing him. As i waited for some taxi or an auto rickshaw to fetch up, he asked me as to where was i going. I disclosed my destination. He told me that he was a truck owner and had come to Delhi with some consignment and was returning to Jalandhar the same day. He offered me to travel with him in his truck. I had traveled in almost all modes of transport but not in the front seat of a civilian truck till then. I felt the offer exciting and agreed promptly. He told me that his truck was parked at the truck terminal within walking distance and that we could walk down till that place. As we walked out of the railway station premises, we entered into a conversation, further introducing our selves to each other. He gave me his name as Harpal Singh and said that he belonged to a village in Jalandhar district. On the way he told me that he had to pay the adda (terminal) fee and wanted me to wait there because he was running short of some money and would go and fetch it from his co-driver. By that time he had impressed me so much with his gentle looks and sweet talk that I told him to take money from me to pay the fee, instead of going all the way to his truck which would waste time. I took out my wallet and asked him the amount he needed. He required Rs 300/- I handed him the same in the hope that he was going to return me the money once we would reached his truck. He told me to wait for ten minutes there and rushed towards some building located nearby. I kept my suitcase on one side of the footpath and watched the school kids heading towards their schools with bags on their backs, hopping and jumping, at times teasing each other. A sweeper was sweeping the road and the surrounding area.

The ten minutes wait turned into fifteen , twenty and then half an hour. I thought that he might have to queue up for paying the terminal fee. When my wrist watch showed eight and the radio at a nearby chhole bhaturey stall started blaring the morning news, i felt restless. It was forty five minutes since the man had left me. I enquired from the chholey bhaturey stall owner about the office where the truck owners paid terminal fee. He expressed his total ignorance about any such office nearby. I asked whether there was a truck terminal nearby, he told me that it was at a short distance from there. He asked me the reason of my queries. I told him the whole story.

Though it had dawned on me that i had been duped of Rs 300/- which was certainly not a mean sum in 1980, but still i wanted to give it a try to go to the truck stand and look for the man. The stall owner sent a small boy with me to show me the truck stand. We looked there where a number of trucks were parked. There was a lot of hustle and bustle in the area but no trace of the man whom i was looking for.

I came back to the shop, disappointed and ordered for a plate of chholey bhatoorey as i was feeling terribly hungry by then. The shopkeeper was extremely sympathetic towards me. He suggested that i should lodge a police complaint but as i was eager to proceed to New Delhi railway station to catch my next train in time, i decided against that.

I wanted to forget the incident like a bad dream but could not and whenever i look back i find it very hard to believe that the man who looked so gentle and fatherly was actually a cheat. I wish he was not.
The incident has been hanging so heavy on my mind, which is evident from the fact that i have written about it alomst after 28 years, not because i was duped of some money but because it betrayed my dictum :-
"जो भी प्यार से मिला, हम उसी के हो लिए"

This post is part of the series on my life journey. To read all the psots in this series, please click here.

Good Conduct

Sanjay Dutt, the Indian actor, who has been handed down six years rigorous imprisonment, can not complain as much against the sentence, as against the time of pronouncing the same. He is being punished today for having acted as a 'khal nayak' (villain) fifteen years back while all these years he has proved his credentials as a 'nayak' (hero). It is like slapping or canning a post graduate student, who is now well disciplined and bright in studies, but had committed some mistake in his second or third standard when he was a brat. The delayed punishment, meted out to a person who has reformed himself after having been caught in the act, can have reverse effect on his behaviour. He can throw the discipline to the winds and become a criminal again.

I myself have been rewarded for my good conduct by the Police of different states at many occasions. Well, please do not get alarmed. I am not a fugitive or a criminal, but I have been getting caught for minor traffic violations from time to time, (most of the time for the fault of others) right since the time that I have been driving on the Indian roads. Initially I used to argue with traffic cops trying to explain my position to them which never produced any favourable results. Therefore, I decided never to argue with them or not even requesting them to reduce or wave the fine. And believe me, this strategy has helped because more often than not, the cops let me go away without paying any fine.

Though, there have been many such incidents, but let me share two of them here. The first time I entered Bombay in my car, in which I drove down with my family from Valsad ( Gujarat), I violated the very first traffic signal at Dahisar, the entry point of Bombay by road from north. I had stopped at the red light in the right most lane and when the lights turned green I drove away straight in the front direction. No sooner I had moved a few yards, than I heard a few shriek whistles. My wife told me, that perhaps the whistles were aimed at our car. Sure enough, a cop in white shirt was rushing towards us. I pulled up to the left of the road and stopped. As he was taking out the charge slip book from his pocket I got down, handed him my driving licence without his asking and told him that it was the first time that I was driving into Bombay city. He looked at the family siting in the car and luggage loaded on top carrier. My car had the Gujarat registration number. Instead of signing the charge slip, he took out a small paper from his pocket, drew a sketch on it and explained to me the rules of lane driving. If you stop in the right most lane at any traffic signal, you are not supposed to drive straight but have to turn right and if you have to go straight then you have to stop in the middle lane. I had learnt the first traffic lesson of lane driving of busy Bombay city, thanked him and proceeded without paying any fine.

At another occasion, I was driving down on the Aurangzeb Road in Delhi after having dropped a friend at the railway station. Dr. Manmohan Singh had just taken over as Prime Minister, but had not shifted from his earlier residence to the official one at Race Course Road. The Delhi Police had cordoned off the entire stretch of the by lane on which his residence was located. Naturally that area, including some part of Aurangzeb Road was declared a zero tolerance zone by the traffic police. I was driving well within the speed limits. Suddenly, an auto rickshaw driving in front of me applied brakes to pick up some passenger who had waved at him from other side of the road. Had I applied brakes at that juncture, I sure would have banged into his rear. To avoid that, I swung my car to the right and steered clear of him. In the bargain, I crossed the centre line and digressed briefly on the other half of the road. It was early morning, so there was no vehicle coming from the opposite direction. The autorickshaw had meanwhile picked up his passenger, taken a U turn and had disappeared. Lo and behold, a traffic constable appeared in front of me from no where and signalled me to stop. Sometimes while driving, if you are desparate to see the face of a traffic cop then just violate some traffic rule. The guy will appear from thin air. In such situations the first thing he will ask you is for your driving licence. He asked for mine and I handed him the same which I had obtained in 1981. It is the old booklet type, as against today's laminated cards. The cop, a burly looking Haryanvi , looked at it with doubt writ large on his face. He saw my photograph which was in turban and then again looked at me. (I have been getting my licence renewed every five years and always submit my recent photographs but the RTO authorities do not insist on changing the original photograph and just extend the validity date). He asked me whose licence it was. I told him it was mine. He turned the pages and saw other details which were in order. He asked me to pay Rs. 1100/-. He said that I had violated the yellow line. Yellow line is the center line on the road where there are no structural road dividers. He told me that the fine for yellow line violation was Rs 1100/-. Luckily I had the dough on me. I dutifully took out two crisp five hundred rupee notes along with another hundred rupee one from my wallet and gave it to him. He looked at me with disbelief. I kept smiling at him while extending my hand holding the money. I could make out that it must have been the first time that some one was paying him the fine on the spot, without offering him bribe or trying to get the fine reduced or getting into argument with him. He asked me for my introduction. I told him my present occupation. He did not take money from me and asked me to proceed. I asked him the reason for his mercy. He said "saahb, yeh aapke gudd kandakt ke liye, darasal galtee toh otto wale kee thee." (this for your good conduct sir, in fact the fault was that of the auto wallah). I thanked him and proceeded on without paying any fine, the reward of good conduct.

Déjà vu

One evening while the elder one was at home glued to his computer, the younger one had not arrived from the college. I enquired from Sunny as to where Dilraj was. He told me that since it was the last day of their semester exams, so he had gone with his friends to celebrate and would come late. I could imagine the thrill the last day of the exams carried. During our days, on our way back from school on the last day of the exams, we used to do crazy things like throwing our clipboards and other stationery items high up in the air till these were shattered into small pieces. Some would plan a movie and some others a small party. That day, though both my sons had finished their semester exam, yet, one of them decided to stay home and play a game on his computer while the other one had gone celebrating.

It was getting late and I was getting concerned when he had not arrived till nine p.m. I noticed Sunny having received some calls on his cell phone. After some conversation on his mobile he told me that Bunny wanted his help as his friend’s car had broken down. I offered to take out my car and go wherever they were calling from but he declined my offer and said that he would take one of his friends along. I smelt a rat and firmly told him that I would come along with him. After a few more calls on his mobile he gave up and told me the actual story. Bunny’s friend Arun (name changed) with whom he had gone in the latter’s car had taken a few beers and had passed out. He was not in a position to drive. Bunny knew driving but did not have a license. Since Sunny had a driving license so he was being called for helping them out. I immediately took out my car, took Sunny along and reached the spot where the two boys were waiting. Arun was lying flat in the rear seat. Thankfully, Bunny was absolutely fine. Arun’s father, a medical doctor, was staying at Agra and had provided an apartment and a car to his son at Gurgaon – perfect ingredients to spoil a child. It was past eleven p.m. and it was no point taking him to his apartment and leaving him there in that condition. So we decided to bring him home. While Sunny took the steering wheel of Arun’s car, I followed them close behind, keeping my fingers crossed that they should not run into a police check post. The police can some times act very nasty without any rhyme and reason and this would have been the ideal situation having three youngsters driving on Delhi roads in a car with UP number plate with one of them lying flat in the rear seat. We reached home safe. After parking our cars, I jerked the boy into consciousness. He was reluctant to come indoors and said that he would lie down in the car only. I got annoyed on this but my sons sent me away and said that they would handle him. Meanwhile I took the boy’s mobile phone, checked the phone book and informed his father at Agra. He offered to come immediately but I told him to relax and come in the morning. Agra is about four hours drive from Delhi. I asked Bunny as to how he got into that mess. He explained that they had planned to go to some fast food joint to have some soft drinks and snacks but his friend insisted on having beer and took one too many despite Bunny’s objection.

This incident had a striking similarity to something that had happened with me about twenty years ago. I had a close friend from my college days. While I got commission in the Indian Army, he joined an Insurance Company. We always met whenever I came on leave and I would spend a few days with him at Chandigarh where he was staying alone. He had taken to drinking heavily and I noticed that his drinking kept increasing with every passing year. I warned him against that but to no avail. Even his parents would also complain about his drinking habits but he didn’t care. When I got posted at Jalandhar Cantt he, one day, visited us in the evening. I offered him a customary drink. After a drink each, while I asked Jeet to give us dinner, he continued drinking and polished off the remaining bottle. He asked for more, I refused and he left our house. Though initially I did not stop him as I was upset due to his behaviour but later I felt that it was not safe to let him go out in an inebriated state. I chased him on my mobike and caught up with him in the market. I somehow managed to bring him back home. After putting him in one of the bedrooms I locked the door from out side, lest he would leave again. At night I checked his room several times and found him fast asleep. We woke him up in the morning. He was normal after the night’s sleep. He freshened himself up and left our house without saying a word.

My sons were facing similar situation yet again but with a difference. The boys had successfully convinced their friend to come indoors and after Jeet gave him some lime juice he became fine. We all chatted for some time. He apologized to me several times and promised not to behave like that in future. One major difference between the two incidents was the exhibition of better emotional quotient by the boys than what my friend and I had reflected twenty years back.

Unemployment

Recently I got my sofa upholstery changed. I contacted a furniture shop in near by market in Calcutta. The shopkeeper noted down my name and address. The very next day a man was at my doorsteps who offered to take up the job of fixing new upholstery on the sofas. After fixing up the rates etc., he turned up the next day with the material and resumed his work. He completed the job in record time and did it to my utmost satisfaction. I had paid him some advance and when I paid the balance he fell at my feet. He hugged my lower legs with his arms and burst into tears. I was shocked to see such behaviour from a man who had great skill. On asking the reason for his crying he told me that he did not have a job and that he had not eaten a proper meal in past many days. He begged of me to get him some job. I was not in a position to offer him any job and I promised him that whenever some one known to me would require such kind of service I will certainly recommend his name. It is really a sad state of affairs that such a skilled worker is compelled to go without a suare meal because of unemployment.