Tag Archives: police

SHORT STORY: MAN WITH THE TWISTED LIP by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

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Khidki (Window)

–Read India Initiative—

This is only an attempt to create interest in reading. We may not get the time to read all the books in our lifetime. But such reviews, talk and synopsis will at least convey what the book is all about.

    “The Man with the Twisted Lip”, is one of the 56, short, Sherlock Holmes stories, written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, is the sixth, of the twelve stories in, ‘The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.’ The story was first published in the Strand Magazine in December 1891. Doyle ranked “The Man with the Twisted Lip” sixteenth in a list of his nineteen favourite Sherlock Holmes stories.

    The story goes as follows. Late at night, Kate Whitney, a friend of Dr. Watson’s wife, calls on them. Her husband, Isa, has been absent for several days. Frantic and worried, she begs Dr. Watson to fetch him home from the opium den where he goes. Watson does this, but in the process he also finds his friend Sherlock Holmes in the den, disguised as an old man, seeking for clues of among the frequent habitués of the place.

    The case involves Mr. Neville St. Clair, a prosperous, respectable, punctual man, who has gone missing. His family’s home is in the country side, but he visits London every day on business. One day when Mr. St. Clair was in London, Mrs. St. Clair also goes to London separately. She happens to pass down Upper Swandam Lane, an unpleasant narrow “vile alley” near the London docks, where the opium den is. Glancing up, she sees her husband at a second-floor window of the opium den. But he vanishes from the window immediately. This insinuates Mrs. St. Clair that something is wrong somewhere.

    She tries to enter the building. But her way is blocked by the opium den’s owner, a lascar. She calls the police, but they do not find Mr. St. Clair. The room behind the window has a dingy animal den where a dirty, disfigured beggar, known to the police as Hugh Boone is found. The police puts her story down as a mistake of some kind when Mrs. St. Clair notices a box of wooden toy bricks that her husband said, he would buy for their son. A further search discovers some of St. Clair’s clothes. Later, his coat, with the pockets, stuffed with, hundreds of pennies, and halfpennies, is found on the bank of the River Thames, just below the building’s back window.

    Hugh Boone is arrested immediately, but he denies any knowledge of St. Clair. He also resists any attempt to make him wash and cleanse. Holmes initially is convinced that St. Clair has been murdered, and that Boone is involved. So he investigates in disguise. He and Watson return to St. Clair’s home, to a surprise. It is several days after the disappearance. But on that day Mrs. St. Clair has received a letter from her husband in his own handwriting, with his wedding ring enclosed, telling her not to worry. This forces Holmes to reconsider his conclusions, leading him eventually to an extraordinary solution.

    Holmes and Watson go the police station where Hugh Boone is held. Holmes brings a bath sponge in a Gladstone bag. Finding Boone asleep, Holmes washes the sleeping Boone’s dirty face and that reveals the real face of Neville St. Clair.

    Mr. St. Clair has been leading a double life, as a respectable businessman, and also as a professional beggar. In his youth, he had been an actor before becoming a newspaper reporter. In order to research an article, he had disguised himself as a beggar for a short time, and collected a surprising amount of money. Later, he was saddled with a large debt, and returned to the street to beg for several days to pay it off. His newspaper salary was meagre, and so he was tempted to beg, and that got him larger returns. He eventually became a professional beggar. His earnings were large enough with which he was able to establish himself as a country gentleman, marry well, and begin a respectable family. His wife and children never knew what he did for a living, and when arrested, he feared exposure more than prison or the gallows. And there is no murder in the story. Finally, he is released. Holmes and the police agree to keep Mr. St. Clair’s secret as long as they don’t hear of Hugh Boone again.

    A silent version of “The Man with the Twisted Lip” was filmed in 1921.

    In 1951, Rudolph Cartier produced an adaptation entitled ‘The Man Who Disappeared.’ This adaptation was a pilot for a proposed television series starring John Longden as Holmes and Campbell Singer as Watson.

    In 1964, the story was adapted into an episode of the BBC series Sherlock Holmes starring Douglas Wilmer and Nigel Stock, with Peter Madden as Inspector Lestrade and Anton Rodgers as Neville St Clair. The adaptation developed St Clair’s attributed ability at a repartee, by showing him quoting from the classics, including Shakespeare.

    Granada Television also produced a version in 1986, adapted by Alan Plater as part of their ‘The Return of Sherlock Holmes’ television series.

    “The Man with the Twisted Lip” was dramatised for BBC Radio 4 in 1990 as part of Bert Coules’ complete radio adaptation of the canon, starring Clive Merrison as Holmes and Michael Williams as Watson.

    The 2014 Sherlock episode “His Last Vow” begins with Sherlock being found in a drug den by John, reminiscent of the scene in the opium den from this story.

    An interesting story out of Conan Doyle’s ilk. I would give it seven out of ten.

By Kamlesh Tripathi

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https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers that includes both children and adults and it has a huge variety in terms of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate for the cause. The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

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Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

(The book is about a young cancer patient. Now archived in 7 prestigious libraries of the US, including, Harvard University and Library of Congress. It can also be accessed in MIT through Worldcat.org. Besides, it is also available for reading in Libraries and archives of Canada and Cancer Aid and Research Foundation Mumbai)  

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

(Is a book on ‘singlehood’ about a Delhi girl now archived in Connemara Library, Chennai and Delhi Public Library, GOI, Ministry of Culture, Delhi)

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

(Is a fiction written around the great city of Nawabs—Lucknow. It describes Lucknow in great detail and also talks about its Hindu-Muslim amity. That happens to be its undying characteristic. The book was launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival of 2014)

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(Co-published by Cankids–Kidscan, a pan India NGO and Shravan Charity Mission, that works for Child cancer in India. The book is endorsed by Ms Preetha Reddy, MD Apollo Hospitals Group. It was launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival 2016)

TYPICAL TALE OF AN INDIAN SALESMAN

(Is a story of an Indian salesman who is, humbly qualified. Yet he fights his ways through unceasing uncertainties to reach the top. A good read not only for salesmen. The book was launched on 10th February, 2018 in Gorakhpur Lit-Fest. Now available in Amazon, Flipkart and Onlinegatha)

RHYTHM … in poems

(Published in January 2019. The book contains 50 poems. The poems describe our day to day life. The book is available in Amazon, Flipkart and Onlinegatha)

(ALL THE ABOVE TITLES ARE AVAILABLE FOR SALE IN AMAZON, FLIPKART AND OTHER ONLINE STORES OR YOU COULD EVEN WRITE TO US FOR A COPY)

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INTERESTING FACTS FIGURES & QUOTES–28

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Some southern states of India have more doctors than WHO norms of 1 doctor per 1000 people.

Dozens of private radio stations have paid huge sums for spectrum, but cannot broadcast their own news and political analysis. They can buy news capsules from AIR. This merely reinforces the AIR monopoly. When private TV can carry news and analysis, the ban on private radio is absurd. This misuse of public radio is a Congress-era invention, adopted happily today by the BJP.

 Islam is the only religion where over a dozen countries are officially Islamic. Many of them are not democratic, and where, fundamentalists have a big say in how to run these countries.

A coach simply needs to understand the team, the individuals, their goals and the dynamics between them, in order to be successful.

 Sexual predators: Only one in four cases end in conviction.

 If you move into a new town, it is not easy to find an electrician or plumber quickly. Alexa is all about connecting seamlessly with apps, with services, with people. Alexa is now available in 14 languages.

Since 2017-18 states have passed laws protecting doctors and healthcare workers from attacks, but enforcement remains questionable.

According to an estimate, only around, one in five rural household has a piped water connection.

Israel recycles around 94% of the water that it uses. Recycling can increase water availability even in times of rainfall deficiency. This can end the perennial water crises Chennai suffers for instance.

Rate your police thana. State of country’s police forces, leaves a lot to be desired. Union Home Ministry kicked off an exercise to rank the country’s best police stations. A similar exercise had been taken in 2017. But this time the exercise is expected to be more comprehensive with the police stations being judged on seven parameters such as crime prevention, proactive measures adopted and citizen’s perception and feedback. The overall goal here is to spur competition between police stations and create incentives to improve policing.

Pure water is the world’s first and foremost medicine—a Slovak proverb.

 India will benefit hugely if it can position itself as an attractive investment destination for companies looking to relocate production from China.

 Guru Nanak believed there were only two kinds of people. Gurmukhi, the God-oriented and Manmukhi, those who are self-oriented. A Gurmukhi devotes himself to God. He preaches truth and works for the welfare of human kind. Whereas, Manmukhi follows his own thinking and practices falsehood and selfishness.

A New York times investigation uncovered a surveillance system manufactured by Huawei and a state backed Chinese company being used in Ecuador to track individuals through mobile phones.

 ‘Squaring off’ is a term of English language that means to ‘settle the difference.’

 The ‘chakra’ the Asoka wheel, which is there in our flag, embodies for us a great idea. It conveys Asoka was one of the greatest emperors. Look at the words of H.G. Wells regarding Ashoka, ‘Highnesses, Magnificence’s, Excellences, Serenities, Majesties;’ among them all, he shines alone a star Asoka, the greatest of all Monarchs.’

 Lorraine Toussaint, the Trinidadian American actress says: ‘We all have a dark side. Most of us go through life avoiding direct confrontation with that aspect of ourselves, which I call the shadow self. There is a reason why. It carries a great deal of energy.’

 One piece of log creates a small fire, adequate to warm you up, add just a few more pieces to blast an immense bonfire, large enough to warm up your entire circle of friends; needless to say that individuality counts but team work dynamities—Jin Kwon.

 A company is known by the salesman it keeps—a quote from a book—Typical Tale of an Indian Salesman.

Don’t blow off another’s candle for it won’t make yours shine brighter—JAACHYNMA NE AGU,  Nigerian writer.

By Kamlesh Tripathi

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https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Share it if you like it

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers that includes both children and adults and it has a huge variety in terms of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate for the cause. The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

(The book is about a young cancer patient. Now archived in 7 prestigious libraries of the US, including, Harvard University and Library of Congress. It can also be accessed in MIT through Worldcat.org. Besides, it is also available for reading in Libraries and archives of Canada and Cancer Aid and Research Foundation Mumbai)  

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

(Is a book on ‘singlehood’ about a Delhi girl now archived in Connemara Library, Chennai and Delhi Public Library, GOI, Ministry of Culture, Delhi)

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

(Is a fiction written around the great city of Nawabs—Lucknow. It describes Lucknow in great detail and also talks about its Hindu-Muslim amity. That happens to be its undying characteristic. The book was launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival of 2014)

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(Co-published by Cankids–Kidscan, a pan India NGO and Shravan Charity Mission, that works for Child cancer in India. The book is endorsed by Ms Preetha Reddy, MD Apollo Hospitals Group. It was launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival 2016)

TYPICAL TALE OF AN INDIAN SALESMAN

(Is a story of an Indian salesman who is, humbly qualified. Yet he fights his ways through unceasing uncertainties to reach the top. A good read not only for salesmen. The book was launched on 10th February, 2018 in Gorakhpur Lit-Fest. Now available in Amazon, Flipkart and Onlinegatha)

RHYTHM … in poems

(Published in January 2019. The book contains 50 poems. The poems describe our day to day life. The book is available in Amazon, Flipkart and Onlinegatha)

(ALL THE ABOVE TITLES ARE AVAILABLE FOR SALE IN AMAZON, FLIPKART AND OTHER ONLINE STORES OR YOU COULD EVEN WRITE TO US FOR A COPY)

*****

 

 

 

CONSCIENCE & CONFESSION

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    It reminds me of a time when I used to go to a park every day, early in the morning. The place was still and quiet—reminding you of those dreaded words—pin drop silence. It was a long morning walk, from where I stayed and also mid-way for me. Where, I use to take a break. The park was located on the embankment of the river which was about twenty feet high from the river water and in between the two there was a steep gradient. To, secure the area from anyone, falling into the river. A rugged railing had been raised only recently. The other end of the park touched the busy road. Coming all the way from the airport and passing into the main city. Beyond the river, there was a tall dark and handsome hillock that gave a great sense of scenic fulfillment.

    All around, it was lush green, especially, during the monsoons. When, the water level at times used to rise and ripple past the edge of the gradient to enter the park. I normally sat there each day for about ten to fifteen minutes. Just for some meditation and introspection that refreshed me to take on the tough day ahead. I had relocated to the city some six months back as an Inspector in the Police Department. Out there. I also found many health freaks coming for morning walk. But some just to lollygag.

    Close to the main gate of the park. There was also a small tea stall. I guess it grossed all its major revenues, early in the morning itself, while serving the morning walkers.  Once in a while it also served hot pakodas that tasted deadly, with that hot dhaba tea.

    I had become a little pally with the tea stall owner who was young and appeared somewhat educated. There was always a newspaper lying around the stall. Where, tea buffs often rushed through the headlines and exchanged informal barbs.

    As a regular visitor I had started recognizing quite a few faces. Gradually, I even got to know the names of some. One out of them happened to be an old person. About whom I noticed, was normally quiet. One day the stall owner who knew, I was a police inspector, introduced me to him. His name was Robert.

    In a matter of days I started interacting with him and referred to him as ‘uncle.’ He must have been around seventy. He spoke very less. But whenever he did, he was to the point. He was normally in his own world and nothing amused him.

    Days passed as usual. One day he came up to me and asked,

     ‘Are you in the police?’

    I said, ‘yes.’

    ‘Then, can you do me a favour?’

     I said, ‘what favour?’ He looked at me for a while and said.

    ‘Many years back when I was young. While playing in this park I had a fight with my best friend and that unfortunately escalated. As a result of which I pushed him down the slope over there. He fell into the river. It was monsoon season. When, the river was in full spate and he was swept away, and never returned.’

    ‘So, then, did you tell the police, that you had pushed him?’

    ‘No.’

    ‘But why?’

    ‘Because I was scared I’ll be arrested. So the police registered a case of accident, that he didn’t know swimming so he drowned.’

    ‘So then, why are you telling me your story now and that too after so many years?’

    ‘After fifty years to be exact. To, clear my guilt or you could say conscience. Because, you’re in the police and if you want, you can arrest me now for the crime.’

    ‘But have you told this to anyone else?’

    ‘No.’

    ‘But why?’

    ‘Because he was my next door neighbour.’

    ‘So how does that matter?’

    ‘It matters, because, years later, I married his sister.’

    ‘But does she know you were the one who pushed his brother?’

    ‘A few years back I did tell her. She couldn’t bear the shock and expired within weeks.’

    ‘And what about your children?’

    ‘I have two sons. Both are in Australia. They don’t know about my crime. But maybe you can tell them after I’m arrested or I’m gone.’ After this he got up, picked his walking stick and started walking. Perhaps, he was heading home.

    After the conversation a couple of days had passed. I had not seen Robert. One day when I reached the tea stall. I was informed by the stall owner that Robert had committed suicide. I was shocked at the news. Perhaps, he was preparing for it mentally when he told me about his act of crime. I attended his funeral where I even got to meet his two sons Richard and Simon.

    Thereafter, I continued with my morning walk as usual. One day when I reached the tea stall. The owner gave me a sealed enveloped that Robert had left for me. I opened it. There was another sealed cover in it with the name and address of Richard in Australia with a request to send it across through a reliable courier. Which I did.

    Robert after losing his wife couldn’t have taken a chance on his sons. But anyhow he wanted to confess about his crime to his children. Which he did after he was gone.

    Moral of the story: Your conscience is the most long-lasting jury in you.

****

By Kamlesh Tripathi

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https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Share if you like it

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

(Archived in 7 prestigious libraries of the US, including, Harvard University and Library of Congress. It can also be accessed in MIT through Worldcat.org. Besides, it is also available for reading in Libraries and archives of Canada and Cancer Aid and Research Foundation Mumbai)  

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

(Archived in Connemara Library, Chennai and Delhi Public Library, GOI, Ministry of Culture)

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

(Launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival 2014)

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(Co-published by Cankids–Kidscan, a pan India NGO and Shravan Charity Mission, that works for Child cancer in India. The book is endorsed by Ms Preetha Reddy, MD Apollo Hospitals Group. Book was launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival 2016)

(CAN BE BOUGHT FROM ON LINE BOOK STORES OR WRITE TO US FOR COPIES)

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Feudalism Lives- Rachpal Singh makes his guard put on his shoes, democracy sheds a tear

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

New Doc 60_1 (2)

Sardar Rachpal Singh, also minister for Planning and Implementation in government of Bengal forgot at his convenience, Guru Nanak’s all time relevant teachings; so also the umbilical and noble duties that a Sikh is supposed to perform in a Gurudwara by allowing his security guard to tie his shoe laces. And, further shamed the martial race by hiding behind a measly back pain, the reason why he allowed the security guard to tie his shoe laces, when Sikhs are known for their unimaginable pain enduring capacities.

But let me also point out as to why security personnel posted along Netas, VVIPs and bureaucrats are getting into such a demeaning form of Chamchagiri? Why can’t they refuse on the face of these VVIPs as this is not part of their job?

And what will happen if one guy refuses, hundred guys refuse and thousand guys refuse?

AN INDIAN POLICEMAN’S MINDSET: THE WORLD IS MY OYSTER

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Kamlesh Tripathi

143

An Indian policeman has a terrific sense of belongingness. He considers everything around him as his own. Be it may, the Chaiwala around the corner, the poor food vendor selling Chawal-Chole, the next door paan-beedi shop or even the Indian Railways where he must get his pound of flesh. But for a change they were in for a shock. And kudos to railway magistrate VK Singh. Read this very interesting column:

Times of India 18.3.15

40 Policemen found hiding in train toilets

Agra: A drive against ticket less travel, launched by railway magistrate VK Singh, led to the unmasking of some unusual suspects- as many as 40 ticketless cops were found hiding in toilets to avoid being penalized by the TTE.

The surprise check was conducted on Mahakaushal Express and Chhattisgarh Express trains, as they are considered the most convenient trains to travel between the neighbouring districts of Agra and Mathura.

A team led by the railway magistrate along with assistant commandant of Railway Protection Force (RPF) and five other security personnel challaned a total of 103 passengers. Of these, 40 were reported to be civil police personnel, posted at various stations and outposts in the two districts.

Of the total Rs 29,780 collected as fine Rs 11,990 was collected from the cops.

By Arvind Chauhan”

ARTICLE: ACID ATTACKS BY SICK MINDS

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Kamlesh Tripathi

Shouldn’t I call them depraved. Transcending even the emperors of Rome, and that to without a throne, who could be ‘vindictive, cruel and even insane’- say some ancient historians like Suetonius, Pliny and Cassius Dio.

A day after a woman doctor became a victim of acid attack. Delhi High Court has expressed concern over the ‘spate of acid attacks.’ So, yet again Nero fiddled while Rome burned? But who is our Nero? Surely, the Government in general, and the law enforcement department in particular, who allowed sale of acid off the shelf.

Establishment is now cracking the whip by developing a web application to regulate the sale of acid, with functionalities like registration of stockists and retailers, issue of licenses by the district administration and limiting sale of acid to individuals who furnish proof of identity and residence.

This may to a certain extent prune down unauthorized sale of acid but won’t sterilize the sick mindset. Union minister Rajnath Singh, also suggests of treating acid attacks, that cause serious hurts, as ‘heinous crimes.’

Good Samaritan NGOs have also held demonstrations at ITO demanding quick and swift Police action against the perpetrators of crime in Rajouri Garden. A medical report released, says the 30 year old doctor is traumatized and understands the prognosis of such a severe injury.

And, in all of this the court has again asked for status report from the centre and the state. But, what is more astonishing is the High Court’s reference to acid attacks, when it pointed out that Delhi Police has almost 15,000 posts vacant and therefore a we have deficient police force at hand.

Lack of adequate Police Force results in inadequate patrolling, which encourages sick minds and criminals to enact such ghastly crime; and the government attorney Sanjay Jain is further exhibiting government apathy by saying 15 proposals forwarded by Delhi Police for creation of over 14,000 posts “shall be looked into at the earliest.” So no matter how heinous is the crime, government lives by its age old rhetoric; and so these sick minds will continue having a field day.

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article: The magic art of ‘Chamchagiri’

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    Word #chamchagiri (sycophancy) requires no introduction. Even the so called English gentry of our country, understands it well enough. And, in India nothing meaty can be obtained without this art of arts, more precisely the mother of all arts.

    During our lifetime we all aspire to become qualified professionals such as engineer, doctor, lawyer, bureaucrat, chartered accountant and the list goes on and on for which we go to professional colleges and even qualify through tough exams. But, for this particular ‘art’ you needn’t go to any University to obtain a degree. Yet it remains the most powerful tool of success in contemporary times.

BUT, WHY CHAMCHAGIRI?

    Because, it is a two way requirement and has now become a status symbol. If you call yourself a VIP you must have chamchas around you. Without chamchas you don’t qualify as a VIP. Conversely, to survive, grow and secure yourself also you need to do Chamchagiri. Perhaps, that increases your tailwind and catapults you way ahead of competition.

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HISTORY OF CHAMCHAGIRI

    It was always there. We have glaring examples of Chamchas operating out of darbars and courts of erstwhile Rajwaras and Kings, in tall Empires, and even in hallowed establishments.

    But in earlier times it was considered a menial habit almost close to beggary which has now evolved into a refined and potent art that pays handsome lifetime dividends, which not everyone can learn. Its crafty students are found buzzing around the bureaucratic circles, in corporate corridors, swarming the political circles around parliament and Assembly; and at times it also seeps into the forbidden-the judiciary.

    While, some people through chamchagiri have escalated the growth of their career by coining catchy statements like ‘Indira is India and India is Indira’ made by Dev Kant Barua, the then Congress President. Others have shown it through self arrived, trait  and gestures. Such as a Chief Minister picking up chappals of Prime Minister’s son and making him wear it again while it slipped out in a muddy field during a political campaign. Some more examples that stand tall in my memory is a Police officer touching a senior netas feet, in full Police uniform. A security personnel cleaning the sandal of a lady Chief Minister, and also the state of art gesture of prostrating in front of the lady Chief Minister of Tamilnadu, Mrs J Jayalalithaa.

    But a recent one that I saw looked a little desperate. This Chamcha had a red plate above his car number plate that read, ‘Vidhayak ka Pratinidhi’ (Representative of MLA). Trying to please his master by becoming his representative. Some Chamchas learn this telling art just to make a living and not to catapult their careers which is still understandable like the one above.

    I have often thought about the genesis of this disease called ‘Chamchagiri.’ To me it always appeared as a colonial and a feudal requirement for a better survive. But the hangover of it has only increased when it should have gone down with the world becoming more business like.

    And, if chamchagiri can get you two square meals I would send calling for the HRD ministry to at least announce a ‘Certificate course’ in the subject to reduce unemployment for now.

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

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https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Share if you like it

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(CAN BE BOUGHT FROM ON LINE BOOK STORES OR WRITE TO US FOR COPIES)

*****

 

Article: RAPE CRIME IN INDIA

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

There is no doubt about the fact that someone runs India. But when a heinous crime such as rape is committed in a Uber Cab it appears no runs India. On the contrary it runs on its own inertia. As the powers to be, feign ignorance, about how the crime was committed and ask for one last chance to fight the menace. So, then who runs India? One answer could be these criminals who always succeed in hoodwinking the dispensation while committing such nasty crimes. In front of whom our meek society and the establishment appear as simpleton. Where, these men in high places come out with some face saving, stereotype statements such as the ‘culprit will not be spared’ and just then another culprit surfaces, even before the previous one is forgotten.

There was only one 9/11 in the US, and with that they learnt their lesson and ensured it never happened again. Surely, they must have done something worth the while, to fox and ensnare such criminals as a strong preventive. Similar mindset we find in Israel. But the story in India is quite different. For we are not aspiring that high as of now, as it doesn’t suit us and it could be grossly inconvenient for our establishment. Therefore, in India there is never a last time but always the next time and we deal it, with the gift of the gab.

REALITY CHECK

Today’s TOI reports 1706 cabbies were booked in the uber-crackdown. But then where was Delhi Police before this rape in the Uber-cab? I guess this is all, that Delhi Police knows in terms of prevention of crime–to book people after the crime. And, beyond this they don’t have the competence to deal with the subject. One can also make this out, from the many Delhi Police Commissioners that have come and gone. Not one has proposed a different unconventional, out-of-the-box plan to prevent rape crime in the capital and that itself exhibits the mental bankruptcy. Most have just kicked the can on the road. And, what can one poor commissioner of police anyway do, even the criminal knows.

GOVERNMENT’S INTENTION

Also, government’s intention to come out with a foolproof plan to prevent rape crime is a suspect across various political establishments that we have seen till now. Whether it is the will or mental or physical lethargy we don’t know. A management thought says if you keep taking the same action each time and expect a different result it will never happen. But, in case of rape crime forget the action; government has not even proposed a new template for prevention of rape crimes. And, that it self speaks volumes. Moreover, the new trend, that the higher courts need to direct the executive on all important issues to act is also alarming.

WAY FORWARD

The traditional method of policing is not effective in preventing rape crimes. Rather it is failing miserably. The traditional policemen are only good for writing FIRs. That too when they are told from the top and to some extent catching criminals at a later date. So we need something different. And can that be technology based is something we need to study? We should also emulate best police practices in terms of crime prevention from other countries and implement the same for rape crimes but all of this requires political will.

Political parties and governments need to realize. If you want to continue in power, merely being ahead of your nearest political rival is not going to be enough. You will have to beat them by leaps and bounds. And for that you will have to deliver what you’ve promised. Remember, the public of India has an elephant’s memory and coming to their aid are countless sound bites where you’ve promised prevention of rape crime. So wake up.

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#50 SECONDS OF #DEATHLY #PANIC

Copyright@shravancharitymission

123

By Kamlesh Tripathi

 

Death! I’ll’ tell you how she looks. I saw her from close quarters; only yesterday, while returning from office. She looked like a terrifying combination of a battered vehicle with a soiled number plate and a ghostly appearing driver who vanished into thin air in a flash of a second. And, it all happened on 21st November while returning from office.

I had just crossed Noida Golf club and was approaching the next traffic light signal on the roundabout of the Metro Station where there was a long queue of traffic waiting to cross. Moving slowly, by now I was as under the Metro station building and on the extreme right lane, inching along the high road divider, so high that while being seated in the car you could not see the traffic on the other side of the road. I was at peace as the traffic was disciplined, enjoying music; and relaxing in the company of fellow cars around, mostly returning from a hard day’s of work. Ahead, of me was a silver coloured Maruti Zen. The traffic light had gone green again, is when I realized I was about two hundred feet from it, and since I was still quite behind, I knew my time to move the car will only come by the time the light goes red again.

And, rightly so the cars ahead of me started moving only when the traffic light had turned red covering the empty road left by the cars ahead of them. I also rolled my car and stopped close to the roundabout. From where conveniently I would have crossed over in the next green light. I guess I was now just about forty or fifty feet away from the traffic light at the roundabout. To my right, continued the road divider with its fancy collection of green plants giving that fresh smell and adding to the beauty of the boulevard that ended after about twenty feet where it approached the roundabout. It wasn’t dark near the roundabout as the street lights were well lit.

A couple of seconds must have passed, is when I saw the rear lights of the Zen ahead of me flash, with that typical sound of a car being locked by the electronic remote switch. I then saw a skinny man, of medium height, perhaps the driver of that car in chappals, wearing dark coloured trousers, a half sweater getting out of it and walking away. And, very soon he reached the end of the road divider, where it ended at the roundabout and disappeared. I wondered where and why?

That gave me an uncomfortable feeling when it suddenly dawned in me, where has he gone? Why has he locked the car? And what is inside the car? Remembering the electronic remote switch that he had flaunted. Hope this is not a car bomb. I asked myself in panic, just when the traffic display read forty two seconds, to go.

The fright in me had set in. There was a car right behind me, so I couldn’t have inched backward, nor I could have gone forward. I imagined, what if this junk explodes? It will take me head on. There will be no chance of a survival. And no one knows where this bloody fellow has gone? All this must have happened in just about fifteen seconds.

Ahead of the Zen was a Mahindra Scorpio and on the left of it was the recently launched Tata Zest in its sexy blue colour which I still remember. Behind me it appeared was a Maruti Alto and to my immediate left an Innova where a guy was merrily talking on his mobile.

They say the fastest thing on earth is your mind. That had begun to sound in low decibels, as if my death-knell by a locally devised Molotov cocktail placed in a car. But the other part of my mind had suddenly started moving in top gear with my report card. In a flash it displayed things, that were undone, badly done and also successfully done in my life. It had also opened my conscience, my can of worms. Who all I had cheated and who all had cheated me; and with who all I was not fair and who all were not fair to me.

I remembered all my friends, including my girl friends. Some, unfamiliar voices reminded me, how I had hurt my Parents. Then suddenly a husky voice probably the voice of death said, ‘you have not made your will. Not explained your property papers to your wife, nor to your son, nor even to your daughter-in-law. And where have you kept your insurance papers, will they be able to find it; and what about the passwords, for if you die here in this blast your passwords might also die along with you in the computer, and what about your spiritual agenda and visits to various temples that you always wanted to carry out. All that will now have to be done in your next life provided you’re born as a human being.’ I could feebly make out, all these deadly voices were coming from that God forsaken Zen. When, suddenly I felt the flash was over. But the bomb was still alive and ticking. I suddenly missed my family.

The bright screen of the traffic light now read twenty seconds, to go. It was now or never. I quickly gathered myself, picked my phone, office bag, and moved out of the car and started walking in the reverse direction of the car when the guy sitting in the Alto behind my car said,

‘Where are you going sir, the signal will be green soon. Heeding to his advice I turned around to look at the signal in extreme fear, is when I also saw the driver of the Zen walking towards his car adjusting the fork of his pants and what lay beneath. I asked in some dismay.

‘Where did you go?’

He smiled and raised his little finger. But I had no expressions to return.

I sat in the car and slowly moved behind the Zen. There were no traffic cops there, to whom I could have narrated this episode. For them to be cautious and on the prowl about any such planned attacks by terrorists, as traffic signals were a vulnerable point.

That day I also realized the importance of ‘Swacch Bharat Abhiyaan’ of Prime Minister Sri Narendra Modi. And, just how to relieve oneself, one can commit such idiosyncrasies; and the urgent need to construct Public loos along roadside.

Life is so weird for when I was seeing death staring at me. At only a distance of ten feet the other person in the Innova was giggling and speaking on his mobile. Perhaps, these very thin lines can only be managed by Almighty alone. And more importantly,

I am now preparing my will on fast track, and having a hard look at my checkered report card.

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SNIPPET- THERE EXISTS A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN COMMAND AND RESPECT

Copyright@shravancharitymission

122

By Kamlesh Tripathi

Yesterday while I was driving down from Lucknow to Delhi something very pathetic happened that I must share with you all. After we crossed Kanpur we entered #Kanpur Dehaat a separate district of UP just before Orai.

There I stopped at a Dhaba and ordered for a cup of tea. Meanwhile, I noticed some five policemen were seated on the adjacent table, having a cup of tea early in the morning along with some snacks. Soon, I felt something was amiss or unusual, and sure enough one out of them who appeared, as their head by tone and tenor was not having tea; but whisky early in the morning and that too in uniform. And, that wasn’t all. He then came down to his choicest ones and started delivering it royally to the chain of command-the establishment, ending at his top boss the Superintendent of Police. In some sympathy I uttered ‘poor SP.’ The best part was each time he abused his seniors, he swore by his upright sterling character.

And when he was done with the green bottle- the whisky pint. He arrogantly chucked it at the wall, and it came crashing down like his own values. The remaining four, appearing his juniors only kept watching in embarrassment, and that included me, and some others around, along with the Dhaba owner.

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But I am more than sure the rogue policeman’s boss- the SP sitting in his office must still be thinking all those constables who salute him day in and day out also respect him.

Perhaps the rogue cop was also trying to say ‘values start from the top.’

Jaihind