In my childhood, I had heard a popular rhyme, “Machha khaiba ilisi, chakiri kariba polici,” meaning, “out of all the fish in the world, the choicest is Hilsa fish; out of all the jobs in the world, the best one is that of a cop.” In the India of the early 1960s characterized by low incomes, job attractiveness tended to be measured by the potential for illegal gratifications. The incomes have gone way up, even in real terms. India is no longer the land defined only by snake charmers, rope tricks and abject poverty. However, Police continues to be associated with rampant corruption.

At the police station, registering a case, investigation, decision to arrest, submitting of chargesheet, closing the case; each stage of the game is marked by what is euphemistically referred to as “give-and-take.” I once got hold of a “secret” register of a police station under my jurisdiction. The double entries of income and outflows were so perfect that I thought even my accounts teacher at IIMB could have learnt a thing or two. All collections were written on the left-hand side and all outflows including balance were given diligently on the right-hand side. It was also actually “audited by an internal Committee!” To my horror, I saw my own name and designation on the outflow column each month so I confronted the SHO (he is called OC in Bengal). He explained that the rate was fixed by one of my predecessors and it continues until a different rate is fixed by another officer. Since unfortunately (unfortunately?) I wasn’t taking the money, that share used to go into an escrow account to be spent informally for certain specified purposes. Similarly, the rates were fixed for each rank. Interesting part was, a person was entitled to his share of the monthly pie only if he was on duty for at least one day in the calendar month. That is when I understood why all Earned Leave applications were of 27/ 28 days and never subsumed an entire month. If anyone was unfortunate enough to forfeit his share like this, that again went into the escrow account. Every police station also annually appointed someone as a “dak master”, through auction, to fulfil the collection target. Anything beyond that was his profit.

The dak master “supervises” the various organs of “collection.” The constabulary extorts money from the hawkers, footpath dwellers, truck and bus drivers and so on. This is the visible corruption but actually accounts for a miniscule portion of the take. The investigating officers concentrate on the complainants, witnesses and the accused. The SHO acts as the “gatekeeper” for registering of criminal cases and arrests. There is of course the “hafta,” weekly collections from shopkeepers, businesses and criminal operators. And so on. I found that there was a lot of demand for “night patrolling.” Usually, every Police Station has one jeep dedicated to it. This jeep is affectionately called “Laxmi Bhandar” by the Police Station staff. Interestingly, the night patrolling often doesn’t end with the night and continues to daylight hours, including and up to the afternoons.

As Additional SP, on the day of assuming my second charge, I was sitting in my office, feeling sleepy and waiting for some file to come or the telephone to ring. The first call was from the-person-who-must-not-be-named but who was rumoured to be actually running everything! No, not the CM or the Chief Secretary but someone whose ante chamber used to be replete with Chief Secretary/ DGP aspirants and history’s unmarked graves of discarded careers. I was jolted out of my stupor and sat bolt upright. Nearly saluted invisibly. Here is the conversation:

A threshold of corruption seemed the accepted norm.

Same office. Another day. A Deputy Magistrate visited me and told me that his sister had got admission in a prestigious medical institute in London but was not able to go because one of my officials was harassing her for money for giving the Police clearance for her passport and the amount was beyond their capabilities. When I started the enquiry, the girl’s father pleaded with me not to proceed because that might antagonize the official even further and, as a result, his daughter would not be able to go. I reassured him, arranged for all the clearances, placed the official under suspension and initiated a Departmental Enquiry. These enquiries proceed at their own pace. Three years and two further postings of mine later, the Enquiry Officer and the charged official landed up in my office to formally record my statement in the enquiry. After the formal process was over, I asked the official where he was posted those days. He smugly replied, “You see, Sir, you suspended me about three years back. After that, I’ve never bothered to return to office.” Apparently, he had already earned so much illegally that he found attending to his myriad private businesses more profitable. He was only interested in completion of the enquiry so that he could resign and his pension would be forthcoming.