The Reassurance- Part 3 and concluding part Nachiketa Desai, ND for us, was magician with words. One of the first editors who taught me tricks of the trade for those years in Bangalore. Back in Kashmir, both at the University and in my stint at Greater Kashmir, the ‘teachers’ barring gifted few were preoccupied in holding on to their egos and chairs, than taking pains to teach and mentor the entrants. ND would change the shape of a bland copy with just a few key strokes. I remember distinctly how he turned my first boring interview about chips and semi-conductors into a one that could be read. “You cannot enter home without a warrant. This is unacceptable,” claimed ND. “It happens ND. We are Kashmiris and such things are common. You are getting unnecessarily worked up. They must be just doing their duty,” I replied. “You have AFSPA in Kashmir. They have license to do anything there. But they didn’t follow procedures here in Bangalore and they can’t take such liberties. The uniform was missing and there was no search warrant,” pointed ND as he made his way to his room. ND was well versed on Kashmir and during the three years at Cyber Media, I had only added to his perspective by explaining to him the ground situation in valley. Accepting thing lying down wasn’t ingrained in ND’s double helix – His Deoxy Ribose Nucleic Acid. ND had history of working against the mainstream thought. He was underground for most of his years during the emergency and published his newsletters against the establishment. His work documenting the 2002 riots made him an outcast in his native Gujarat. Within an half an hour, ND called me to his room. He had written a long letter addressed to the Inspector of General Police in Bangalore asking him to explain the situation. “Tell me your details. Dads and Mom name. I have to add these details,” “I am OK ND. No need to do this. It happens with us. We are used to this”. I was now getting worried. “No way Idhries! I will not accept it.” He kept on adding vicious lines to the letter,” By the end of it, both ND and the letter was breathing fire. He took out the print out, got my signatures and went about collecting signatures of other people in office authenticating my ‘good character’. Some reservations from understandably scared colleagues made him to water down the language. Their reluctance was perfectly understandable for ‘I am not a terrorist’ was not written in my CV nor carved on my forehead. He then pushed me along with other, some willing and some reluctant colleagues to the office of the IG on Infantry Road. All along the way, I kept on cajoling ND to go back to office and not pursue this. I was worried, for had I read and written too many stories for my comfort to take on what I then categorised as the might of the state. I knew for sure Omair, Aamir will not be happy for me creating what for us was a mountain out of mole hill. “You have made us subject of hatred of those policemen. They will get surely not take this lying down,” Stern words, I was sure would be coming my way that evening. He would have none of it and proceeded to the office, though promising me, that he would be nice in his language with the IG. After a brief wait, the IG gave appointment. He handed out the letter to the IG and read out its contents. All through the conversation, I kept my head down only to raise it occasionally whenever my name was read. From the very young, we were taught not to meet the gaze of armed men lest the bullet gets adjusted in our sockets. For a moment, I had Dad and Mom standing next to me as their name reverberated from the piece of paper. The professors were not happy to be invited to such an unrespectable place. The IG didn’t even have a look at it and pushed it under the table, probably in in the dustbin. ND left the room, not before, reminding the IG, the common citizen’s rights in democracy. We left for office and all along the road from Infantry road to Commercial Street, I didn’t approve of ND’s ‘exaggerated reaction’. Because of which, every soul in office had known about the episode, which I certainly despised. More importantly, I kept on going back to the reaction of my flatmates. They wouldn’t have approved of these gimmicks. …………………… Exhausted from the affair, I tucked myself in a corner to escape the unwanted attention that I garnered in those few hours. I tried hard to complete the pending special on IT Security, but my mind wandered to permutations I had been drumming while coming to office. “You need to very careful,” the parting words of cops kept ringing in the head. What did he mean?. I kept guessing. Custodial killing. Enforced disappearance. I kept exaggerating the worst case scenarios oblivious to the fact my computer had gone to sleep mode and I couldn’t even pretend to be working. For the first time in two years, I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to leave early for Taj Durbar for the gorging on the mandatory evening chicken Kabab. Back then, I wasn’t worried about extra calories. Slowly the word had spread and this innocuous shy boy had become talk of CyberMedia Office. The last thing I wanted was sympathy and I had decided I would not be answering questions about my ‘credibility’. But my colleagues were having none of my antics. Barring the always prejudiced very few, everyone in office by walked up to me, talked to me, cajoled and got me out of the forlorn corner. Jokes about Bengaluru police were flying around. My chickening out at the police station was being laughed about. My sweating in cold Bangalore was being made fun off. “The boy who saw anni for the first time in life in this city finally sees a police station too,” pointed Majnu less to his delight and more aimed at my discomfort. I had jumped out of my room when I was saw Anni- -the elephant first time on the streets of Bangalore. I couldn’t help but be intimidated by the massive beast. For the whole day they had made fun of me for seeing an elephant in person for the very first time even after being on the surface of earth for 28 long years. I had sulked and made a feeble fight by questioning how many of them had watched Hangul or Snow leopard in person. I too hadn’t but they hardly knew it. “At least the elephant was better looking than the policemen.” Abhi shouted. Everyone in the office was trying their best to get me out of sombre mood and it was working. I joined the fun and poked fun at the reluctant colleagues who had not accompanied me and they were sporty in response. I could see my association with colleagues in CIOL, irrespective of my identity and beliefs, was one of genuine compassion and love. I never wore my identity – neither religious, nor ethnic on my sleeves and they had completely embraced me inspite of political views that were not exactly in accordance with theirs. I too had reciprocated in kind Far away from my land, I had even without realising, become part of a big family. I had forged a strong connection with the pals working in pigeon holes. They had accepted me as one of their own and were willing to fight my battles, no matter, how high the stakes. The feeling of having a whole office standing against might of state, even symbolically, even for few hours, was reassuring and empowering. By the time, I left for my home, and whizzed my Pulsar to have Mughal Thali with Omair and Ozair, I had put to rest all my fears of being alone. I certainly wasn’t abandoned. I wasn’t alone. And never this confident to deal with cops and that impending raid...
Posted on: Mon, 20 Oct 2014 17:18:12 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015