Sinner and a hint of saint

Ranbir Parmar 

OUR octogenarian neighbour Panditji was a reservoir of yarn from his career as a cop. He had an intimate style of storytelling and most tales ended with a moral. He is no more now, but we continue to share his anecdotes among us. One such story relates to the beginning of his police career in the early 1950s. 

Panditji was quite young then, newly married and recently promoted as SHO. The promotion entailed his transfer to a police post, 26 miles from his house in Nahan. A narrow mule-track connected the secluded police post with the district headquarters at Nahan. The other alternative route was a serpentine pagdandi, passing through a dense forest.

The place of his posting was desolate enough and there was no facility for keeping the family along. So, he was always on the lookout for opportunities to visit his hometown. One such opportunity came his way in the second month of his posting. Three undertrials were to be shifted to the Nahan Jail. There was threat of impending rain, but he decided to take the risk of starting the trek after mid-day, using the pagdandi shortcut. 

The undertrials were handcuffed with three constables and the SHO led the group on the narrow track, hoping to reach their destination well before nightfall. They must have walked for two hours, when suddenly the sky became overcast. A shadowy darkness descended and soon it began to drizzle. The path was slippery and too narrow to be negotiated with three handcuffed men. Visibility was becoming worse and it began to pour. 

One of the constables suggested that they might be able to walk faster if the prisoners were released from their handcuffs. The Head Constable, who was more experienced, opined that two of the prisoners could be untied safely for the time being as they were quite docile, but setting the third one free would be risky. This prisoner was Dilia, who had allegedly hacked two persons to death. He was a mean-looking fellow with a squint. Panditji pondered over the situation and took an impulsive decision. The handcuffs of all three were removed. Two armed constables led the group, followed by the three prisoners. The SHO and the senior constable walked behind, holding battery-operated torches.

For the next three hours they ran like seven ghostly figures. At last, they reached the wider road from where the lights of Nahan town could be seen. The rain had stopped. The SHO relaxed his pace a bit when Dilia turned and came to him with a strange request, ‘Sir, please handcuff me. I cannot take it anymore!’ 

Everybody was surprised. With folded hands, he was entreating, ‘Sahebji, it had been quite difficult for me to control my sinful mind during the past three hours! The thought of fleeing tempted me throughout this run. I could have easily disappeared in the darkness of the forest. But how could I betray your trust? How could I put your service in trouble?’

‘Dilia was a hardcore criminal, but there was a flicker of saintliness in him. Man is a curious mixture of good and evil,’ Panditji observed, ending his tale.