Recently
a delightful little headline popped up: a certain Me Lord has made life so
difficult for his local police station staff that they were practically doing
squats under the weight of complimentary services being provided to Me Lord.
Not
long ago, another headline had hit the collective national conscience -recovery
of half burnt currency from the outhouse. The dignitary promptly declared
‘That’s outhouse, not my ‘house’ how could a man be held responsible for what
happens in an outhouse? Fair enough! Years ago in Vadodara, a spurious liquor
distillery was raided in a senior officer’s outhouse. The senior officer gave a
similar ‘innocent’ explanation: first, I don’t drink —this is common knowledge
in the entire city. Second, how on earth was he supposed to know what was
brewing (literally) in the outhouse? And if he didn’t know, how could he
possibly be responsible?
In
the same spirit of creative logic, the local police quietly took it lying down.
Apparently, it all begun with a harmless chunk of flowers for daily Pooja
(prayer) by the family of a certain Me Lord in Delhi. Flowers was not much of
an issue. Then came another summon: Me Lord wanted Membership of the swanky Gym
of the area. Fair enough! Problem occurred when Me Lord wanted local police
station to bear the expenses. He went to the gym; but the policemen were
getting thinner paying the bill, their wallet lost all the weight.
I’m
not sure what noble defense Judge Sahib planned to offer, but I can imagine. He
could argue that in almost every case that comes before him, the local police
are involved in some capacity either complainant or witness or investigator or
just hanging around for ambience. The old saying goes, a healthy mind resides
in a healthy body Therefore, for justice to be served promptly and flawlessly,
it is essential for the police to ensure Me Lord remains in pink of health. A
stressed-out judge! -God knows what might happen in his court. Thinking of all
the consequences which may occur the policemen kept paying as part of due
process of Judicial modus operandi
—because in case Me Lord wished, he had a million other ways to roast
them day in day out.
I
had once witnessed in the courtroom even before touching the case file, the
judge tore into a policeman for not wearing his uniform. The policeman politely
explained he was from the intelligence unit and allowed to be in mufti. That
only provoked Round Two: “What is this loose paper you’re waving? Ever heard of
a file cover? Is this any way to present documents?” and so on. The police
have, in fact, stated that humiliating them in court was one of Me Lord’s daily
warm-up exercises.
But
that’s not all. According to the police, fresh flowers were sent every morning
to Me Lord’s residence for his daily puja routine. Prayers were offered by him,
but the monthly flower bill was paid by the police station. A rather unfair
arrangement—after all, the poor policemen were not receiving any spiritual
credit. How was the deity supposed to know that daily supply of fresh flowers
offered, are financed by the nearest SHO and his team? And let’s not even start
about the cost—three thousand rupees a month for flowers alone!
Once
the gym had toned up Me Lord’s physique and sharpened his imagination, he asked
for more; why not add cricket to the fitness routine? Pat came the order and
duly conveyed to the police station: henceforth, Me Lord would play cricket
beginning from Net Practice. Therefore, cricket bats, pads, balls, cap, guard
& gloves be procured of the reputed international brand. The bill? A modest
couple of lakhs! This was the precise moment the police found itself in Net.
They decided enough was enough. Entire
Police station rose in unison and complained.
Sensing
the sensitivity of the matter, the judicial administration quietly transferred
Me Lord to another court. No one knows what became of his puja —will the daily
prayers turn flowerless? What about the
cricket? The gloves? Above all—what will happen to the ‘body’ of me Lord!
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