In the service, it so happened that I was given my first posting as Sub Divisional Police Officer (SDPO) in the same sub division where I underwent the district training. I had worked closely with the sitting SDPO, assisting him and training with him for raids, investigation, law and order duties, case supervision, etc.. Looked like, my training was incomplete and one vital piece of training was still missing.

A few days prior to the scheduled date of my taking over, during some law and order duty (where I was not present), the Superintendent of Police (SP) and the SDPO had a falling out and the latter told the SP that he will not make over the charge of the office to me on the grounds of a pending representation. Miffed and feeling affronted, the SP sent a wireless message to both of us to hand over/ take over the charge of SDPO on a particular date and “report compliance.” After this, he left for some important meeting in Bhutan for a few days and was incommunicado. On the appointed date, I went to the SDPO residence-cum-office to take over and the SDPO refused to make over the charge. Since there was an express order with the proviso to “report compliance,” not doing so could be construed as insubordination. So I unilaterally took over charge and sent a message to all concerned. The SDPO, acting on his copy of the message, directed that it should not be transmitted. The poor subordinate staff, caught between the ire of a sitting SDPO and potential problems from incoming SDPO, were having kittens, not knowing what to do, and sought directions from the Range DIG who could not take a decision, could not contact the SP who was in Bhutan (pre-Cellphone days!), and, in the best traditions of civil service, kicked the can upstairs by allowing both my message and the sitting SDPO’s message to be transmitted to Police Directorate and the government. However, of directions, there came none. So, every day, whichever of us got up first used to be the SDPO for the day. This happy state of affairs continued for about a month after which the guy formally handed over charge on paper.

I was staying in a guest house and attending office in the residence-cum-office, leaving the residence portion for use of my predecessor and his family for as long as they wished. Whatever happened between the SP and him was not my battle to fight. I also felt that I owed him for my training and that there should be an element of grace and cordiality in conduct between brother officers. One day, when I was sitting in the office, his daughter came to me and said that they were leaving. I went out to see them off. It was very emotional because of the circumstances and also because of the past close association I had shared with the family before the posting bit drew a cloud over it. Meanwhile, there was this “intelligent” ASI (Assistant Sub Inspector).

SDPO’s is an operational, field job and there is not much of office work. The Police Regulations of Bengal (PRB) have catered for a total staff strength of two for the SDPO office, one “intelligent” (PRB word) ASI and a Constable. This particular intelligent ASI in the SDPO office also came to see my predecessor and his family off. He burst into tears and started bawling – not just crying, but full-throated, no-holds-barred bawling. When the jeep started, he jogged alongside the jeep for a long distance, tears streaming down his face and soaking his shirt. The display of unfettered emotion got to me also. I went back to the office and was sitting thinking about the twists and turns of my relationship with the previous SDPO when the ASI came back and stood politely in front of me. When I looked up, he said, “Sahab, bhalo kaaj korben. Aager saheb toh sub divisioner barota baajiye diye gechhen.” [Sahab, I hope you will do well, your predecessor has left the sub division in ruins.]

I asked him how my predecessor had achieved this and on what basis the ASI was making this assertion so he said all the crime figures shot up under my predecessor. There was a board behind him detailing the year-on-year comparative chart of cases under DRBTM, i.e., Dacoity, Robbery, Burglary, Theft and Murder which he himself had filled up. I pointed to it and said none of the crime figures seemed to have jumped; in fact, they all seemed to have come down. He also looked at the board and, much head scratching later, said, “See Sir, Murder was only 52 last year, this year it has gone right up to 53!” That day, I realised that not only should loyalty never be assumed, the outward show of loyalty can be questionable.

Over one and a half years of working together, I grew somewhat fond of the ASI. Shortly before leaving the sub division on promotion, I found that he had committed a major blunder with potentially disastrous fallout for an election-related police arrangement and berated him long and hard. He was silent throughout and his silence got me even more worked up. I asked him repeatedly what he had to say in his defence and why hell, damnation and severe disciplinary action should not be visited upon him. He quietly put on his cap, saluted and said, this time in Hindi, “Galtiyan hote hain Saheb … lekin, wafadaari mein koi kami nahi.” [Mistakes happen, Saheb … but, my loyalty knows no bounds!]

Funny thing, loyalty. Like love. Bites you in the leg when you least expect it.