Going round in circles with camel

Satish K Sharma

DHOLKA, where I arrived in a no-frills state road transport bus one day in October 1987, is a small town of Ahmedabad rural district. It was chosen to give me, an IPS probationer, a month’s ‘practical’ training as SHO. 

I have always thought that the word ‘practical’ was chosen wisely. It could mean anything — hands on, hard-nosed or the line of least resistance! 

The town’s name was perhaps derived from Hindi/Gujarati word ‘dhool’, meaning dust because that’s one thing which was available in abundance there. More so that year because it was the third successive year of drought in Gujarat. Dust apart, the town had all the trappings of a thriving urban centre — bazaars, cinemas and restaurants.  

At Dholka, I did get the hang of some of the antediluvian police practices, but sadly not to its more fascinating side — the subterranean dynamics. For, I could not breach the age-old wall of formality between IPS officers and other ranks. It was my loss because a month as SHO, if one gets under the skin of the position, can teach more about social dynamics than many volumes on the subject. 

One day someone reported a strayed camel with a dead man tied to its back. We set it loose, thinking it would take us to the home of its owner. But perhaps baulked by all the attention, or because it belonged to a wandering tribe, it took the police in circles as hardened criminals do during an interrogation. 

The case remained undetected, but the beast of burden joined the rank of rusting cars in the police station compound as property seized by the police awaiting disposal.    

Other than the above case, my stay there was unremarkable. The saving grace was the old Deputy Superintendent stationed there who had no dearth of interesting anecdotes. I am indebted to him, for teaching me the nuts and bolts of policing.

After the practical training we returned to the National Police Academy and went for Bharat Darshan. Our itinerary included Itanagar. 

One evening we were guests of the then Governor of Arunachal Pradesh, RD Pradhan, a former IAS officer who, as a union Home Secretary, was the architect of Assam and Mizo Accords.  

On being introduced to Mrs Pradhan I told her that I was from Gujarat. She asked where I was posted for training. At the mention of ‘Dholka’ her eyes lit up. 

‘Mr Pradhan’s first posting as SDM was at Dholka in the fifties. It used to be drab and dusty, but a lucky place to start one’s career from as, you can see!’ she said pointing to him. 

‘I hope so, ma’am,’ I replied.