This is the second part of the Robbery series. For those who came in late...Thieves struck at about 5:30 am on a Sunday morning, while I was fast asleep and stole my mobile phone... This piece is about my interaction with the friendly(Pun, intended) neighbourhood police. Forget expecting them to trace his mobile, it was a herculean task to just get the police to lodge an FIR...
Was rudely woken up from a deep sleep, commotion all around. I somehow manage to shake the sleep off. Realise that it has been years since I have woken up so early. The unthinkable has happened. There has been a robbery at my place. It has actually happened to me. It is no longer something on the crime page of the newspaper, that we usually read with a sense of detachment. Am quite shocked and dizzy (Partly because of the early hour, partly due to the actual event). Gradually it starts to sink in. After some harried searching of the belongings, discover that my dear mobile phone had been stolen. Am feeling hurt that a dear friend and constant companion has been so cruelly snatched away.
Gradually acceptance and resignation (to the loss) starts to creep in. Start feeling grateful that at least no one was hurt. Send up some thanks. Also as the mobile phone was insured, thought it would be a simple matter to approach the friendly, neighborhood police and get an FIR. I soon found out, this wasn't so...
Called up the landlord to inform him and plead with him to come with me to the police station, as I cannot speak one word of Kannada. The guy laughs at me and tells me, "Remember, You are in Bangalore, not Madikere". I still insist on him coming over, as I distinctly remember reading an article, a couple of weeks ago in the "Times of India" stating how the Bangalore police were searching high and low for police force members capable of handling English. After much cajoling and wheedling, the landlord agrees to make a guest appearance.
As sleep is out of the question, I decide to go and grab a quick bite before heading out on the course of law enforcement. After all breakfast is the most important meal in the day (Maybe I should stop skipping Breakfast on weekdays) ...
Finally the landlord appears after about an hour. He goes off on his bike and tells me to meet him at the police station. I stay behind to collect the mobile phone documents before going to the police station. The landlord is nowhere to be seen. So, I decide to test the Times' report and approach a middle aged constable on the front-desk. (Wow, This place has a proper front desk and a kind looking constable seated there. It can't really be as bad as the grapevine suggest). Start to explain why I'm there. He gives me a wide eyed expression and says something in Kannada. I try Hindi. Same response again. I draw on all my pantomime experience (zilch, actually) and start to explain about the robbery speaking only in proper nouns and miming the rest. Revelation dawns, on the guy's face. After a lot of efforts I have made him understand that a robbery has happened. He hands me a register and a pen. I look at the other entries, and write down my address.
A fat, pot-bellied, and bald fellow in plainclothes approaches and the kind-faced one rattles off a long story to him in Kannada. Fat guy speaks broken Hindi and is quite proud of it. (Come on man, it is the national language. You are supposed to be good at it). I finally start using words to apprise him of the nitty-gritty of the situation. Between the three of us we manage to paint a gory picture of thievery, robbery, etc. The landlord finally drops in(useless fellow), and the story is retold in graphic detail once again. Fat-Guy says he has to visit the "scene of the crime". The landlord offers to give him a lift, and we set out for my place.
We soon reach the crime-scene (formerly my Home) and Fat-Guy goes all over the house without even taking off his dirty boots and shows me how the thieves must have done it. (I get the urge of pointing out that I already told him the same story, but let it pass). Fat-Guy and the landlord start discussing the whole thing as if they were discussing the weather. Fat-Guy finds the whole situation a bit amusing and condescendingly points out that if windows are built close to doors then there are bound to be robberies. (Probability??? Murphy's Law, or what???)
Fat-Guy starts looking around outside the house too, and the landlord chooses this occasion to ask me for an increase in the rent. I can't believe this guy. (Now that thieves are also eager to get into the house, the demand is of course higher???) Fat-Guy gets bored soon and decides that he should be back at the police station. We set off on my bike and after dropping him at the station he tells me to come back after an hour as all the officers are out investigation some "dacoity". I promptly pop-in at the appointed time. This time round there is a new person on the front-desk. This guy also speaks no Hindi, or English. I manage to make him understand the words FIR and that I'm here to meet Fat-Guy. He asks me to have a seat and after having the seat all to myself for half an hour, I lose interest and ask him to help me get something done. Fat-Guy pops in some time later and takes me to a shed-like room behind the main building where the SI(Sub-Inspector) and others are seated. there is no electricity and as a result the room has approximately the right temperature for rice to be cooked.
I am again assigned to a free seat, and sit there sweating (Maybe, this is what they mean by being in the HOT Seat?). After sitting there and twiddling my thumbs for another 1/2 hour I again try to get somebody interested in my predicament. This time another guy (the Writer of the Police-Station) finally condescends and asks me to come to his table. He speaks better Hindi than all the others put together and I'm finally able to pour my heart out to him. He hands me a blank sheet and I write down a formal complaint under his guidance. He makes me edit (censor) the complaint twice and rewrite it. I'm really beginning to hate those thieves from the bottom of my heart for putting me through all this.
He finally accepts the third draft of the complaint as satisfactory and I see visions of going out of the police station soon with the FIR in my hands. But there happens to be another twist in the tale. The Writer-Guy leaves the office with my complaint and returns a loooong time later and looks at me quizzically. I remind him that I'm waiting for a copy of the FIR. He looks at me as if I'm some alien ans tells me there is no electricity, so we can't operate the computers, so you can't have the FIR till the electricity comes back. I can't believe it. The situation is becoming murkier by the minute. If only I could lay my hands on those @#$$%^$#@# thieves...
Call up my Mobile service provider's helpline and find out that all their offices are closed on Sunday. But they have one main office open. I rush off on my bike and the service provider's cancels my SIM card, without much trouble. Bless them!!! Come back to the police station in the evening, and after running all over the place looking for the Writer-Guy finally manage to locate him. He informs me that the electricity is not yet back. I can't belive this is the situation in one of the poshest areas in the heart of Bangalore, India's IT capital. God help me!!! I am asked to come back "Tomorrow".
"Tomorrow", Monday dawns bright and cheerful and I reach the police station around 9 on the way to office. The Writer-Guy sees me and gives me a big smile. Start feeling cheerful. Maybe the thieves were really in need, Poor Guys...He tells me the FIR is ready and he has to take a photocopy and then I can have it. He collects a few files, asks me to follow him to the photocopy store across the road. I tag along feeling fairly happy. On the way he starts talking about how much paper-work the poor police have to do, and how the crime-rate is rising so much. (Buster, If the police did their job properly maybe there would be less criminals floating around...)
The guy gives me a oily smile and laughingly talks about how he should be getting a service charge for the things he's is doing for me. (The only "service" he has rendered till now is to take down my complaint). Get this little suspicion that I'm about to be asked for a bribe. I prefer to ignore the statement.
He suddenly exclaims that he has forgotten my file at his office. I just can't believe this anymore. Says we'll have to go back and get it. We set off back to the police station. As we reach the front gate the guy tells me you have to pay me Rs. 150/-. Feel totally disgusted with the fellow. Consider kicking his ass, (as I've seen Sunny Paaji do so often on TV), but decide against it. I pay up and the guy is all smiles once again. Tells me to not worry, 'I can come and collect the FIR in the evening'.
I get out of that place and fee disgusted with the guys behavior. Forget maintaining law and order, or tracing down the criminals, these guys are so pathetic that they demand money to just lodge a complaint.
Then again, maybe the police are doing their job. They make it a point to harass and disgust anyone coming to them, to such an extent that they will be mortally scared of ever having to lodge a compliant at the police station. Thus they will take extra care of their property and belongings thus preventing thieves from stealing anything. After all "Prevention is always Better than Cure..."
Comments
BTW, I can relate to the tragedy of losing a mobile fone. I almost lost one on the tracks ! ;)
Take care, buddy !
Nice write-up...