Bullying Vijender the boxer!

Rajbir Deswal 

Having joined as Joint Director at the Haryana Police Academy, Madhuban, in 2015, I was assessing the progress made by gazetted officers under training. The Adjutant was informing me about the profile of the probationers. ‘He is mostly in the ring, Sir,’ he said putting his finger on a name. I asked who he was. ‘Vijender Singh, Sir, the Olympian boxer!’ I left an order with the DSP, training in-charge — ‘Call him to my office in the afternoon.’

 I was thrilled at the prospect of seeing a national icon, flaunting an international medallion of immense recognition on his chest, being paraded before me. I was happy at the thought that without inviting a fatal blow, I could be bullying the Haryanvi Jat and seek some sadistic pleasure, a senior uniformed man usually takes, especially when the junior happens to be ‘substantial’. 

I had known Vijender to be the most sought-after bachelor after his historic win at the Olympics. Many a Bollywood actor had offered to marry the boxer with Apollonian looks and wearing the champion’s sash. He was also offered roles in Bollywood films. Still later, he was embroiled in a drug controversy, but came out clean.

That day I made a quick return to office after lunch. Since it was time for the evening parade, the ustad thought it right to march him before me in casual khaki shorts, vest and sport shoes. I shouted at him, ‘Isn’t a gazetted officer under training required to be produced before an officer in full dress?’ The next moment I saw the ustad and his chela march out and return half an hour later.

I wasn’t amused at Vijender’s near-lanky physique. He appeared without muscles, and sheepish. He wasn’t smartly dressed even now — a loose-fit uniform, his beret showing the national emblem in the middle, which should be in line with the left eyebrow.

‘Is this the way an officer dresses up?’ I asked Vijender, who looked at the ustad agonisingly. The ustad said he wanted to have a word with me in private, and without waiting for my approval, he gestured Vijender to step out of the office.

‘Sir, he is from sports quota and doesn’t take his training seriously. What should I do?’ ‘But he has been recruited as a DSP and should pick up training like a recruit and not like a celebrity!’ I thundered. ‘Your orders shall be carried out, Sir,’ he said, ‘tomorrow huzoor will have no complaint.’

The next morning, I was pleasantly surprised to find a meticulously attired Vijender giving me a smart salute. Having had my fill of bullying the boxer, I realised he needed to be treated with more dignity. I ordered the ustad to wait out and send tea, while asking Vijender to take a seat. ‘I don’t drink tea, Sir,’ said the desi from Kaluwas in Bhiwani. While leaving he took a selfie with me, which received 1,081 likes in nine minutes! Well, he is a politician now.