From one Police Station to Another in Delhi

It was a cool summer evening in North Delhi, a place known for its university campus and the colleges affiliated to the university. The only reliable shopping area in the whole of this place is Kamla Nagar; there must be hundreds of property developers who would have happily planted shopping malls, had space never been a problem. On this side of India's capital city bicycle rickshaws, mostly ridden by migrants from Bhiar and Utter Pradesh, are abundant and their clients are the students from other states of the country.

While sitting in one of the rickshaws ridden by a migrant in wretched clothes, one is exposed to the unceasing senseless commotions. If one were in one of the hatchback cars, the most widely used and affordable cars of middle class Indians, with the window glasses rolled up then one would be less bothered. But a sun-bleached canopy and the side bars provide nothing, except the decorative details which the crude designer needs.

What is ironic is that the spectators of these senseless commotions are the ubiquitous Delhi police personnel whom one can find at every traffic point standing beside their white vehicles in dirty khaki uniform preparing dry chewing tobacco with lime. The effectiveness of this thick deployment is a question which nags one almost everyday; like other police forces from other states you will always find them swinging to action displaying all the foreign-made weapons at a crime scene after everything is over.

Two female post graduate students from the north eastern part of the country were in a rickshaw on their way to Kamla Nagar. The rickshaw got stuck among the honking cars and when it made some progress was detained by reckless motorcyclists forcing their ways through the narrow gaps. One among them pulled up beside the rickshaw and the man grabbed one of the students' bag and then sped off. They jumped off the rickshaw and tried to run in vain, then they gave shouts, which , unfortunately, was lost in the senseless cacophony. The traffic point, where a police car was parked on one nook, was only few metres ahead, but they looked busy and the appearance itself promised certain inaction.

Like any sensible would do, they approached the Roop Nagar police station. The entrance of the station was partly occupied by a large dirty desk manned by a female personnel in khaki shalwar kameez. She seemed to be in the middle of a good laugh generated by a male peer's remark. The lady took her time, so did the the man, and when she was spoken to she turned her head to examine the two females whose features were completely different from hers.

Surprisingly ,she asked the reason of their presence, and when told it was about a bag, containing ATM cards, cash and ID cards, being snatched and they wanted to file a robbery case. She asked if they had noted down the vehicle's number, which they couldn't since the vehicle snaked its way between the cars and soon was swallowed up by the traffic. With a stern expression she announced that a case of loss could be filed, but it was nothing to do with robbery. Then the definition was explained, which poked her ego thus the faced manifested distinct gloom. But it didn't last very long, the male colleague said something which you hear everyday in the streets, she turned her head to look at the man. 

Her ego poked, the definition unclear and not willing to be convinced  and also not to put up with a lengthy procedure which will never be solved like many others in the city, she began to press for what she had said it should be, otherwise the matter wouldn't be entertained at all. 

This unilateral conclusion and her sheer indifference made the ladies feel that they had intruded someone's place and bothered the dwellers unnecessarily and for which they should render an apology. Had the place not been marked as a police station and the people not in khaki uniform, then they would have done so.

Frustrated of being hapless and ashamed of having bothered some irresponsible people who confused them, they concluded nothing would happen there. They lingered about wondering what they should do, then the sight of a young woman in sari who ran up to the desk in a noticeable manner detained them.

The lady was addressed after her ragged appearance was observed quite carefully. She found an abandoned child and was concerned that  if left long something bad could happen to the kid. She sounded sincere. The khaki lady bestowed her precious attention, and then delivered her verdict: that matter should be reported to Patel Chest police station.