Some have uniforms - of course - and you can start figuring out by their pips and stripes how high up they are.
But others just walk in wearing civvies.
Who is a cop. Who is a 'visitor'. Hard to tell.
I look and see how the others react. Do they greet. Do they ignore. Do the suddenly stiffen up and salute?
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Its the beginning of a new day. Cops come in and report. Sign the muster book. Show up again wearing the uniform. Collect their gun and bullets.
The hand-guns are kept in - of all things - square plastic boxes - the kind that you see in any kitchen - boxes in which to store cut up vegetables in your fridge. These humble boxes hold the fire-arms that Mumbai's finest strap on themselves when they report for duty.
The hand-guns are kept in - of all things - square plastic boxes - the kind that you see in any kitchen - boxes in which to store cut up vegetables in your fridge. These humble boxes hold the fire-arms that Mumbai's finest strap on themselves when they report for duty.
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A man walks in. Slinks in. He is a small and very dark man. He looks like a comic book character. Something out of the Phantom. He bows to various policemen and moves quietly to the corner where one of the inspectors is sitting. I can see them out of the corner of my eye, through a small window. The man bows down to the ground. He says something to the inspector. The inspector says something back. The man bows again. The inspector slides something into the man's hand. The man bows again and slinks out.
An informer? I feel like I am in a Tintin comic.
An informer? I feel like I am in a Tintin comic.
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Fax machine. Not working. Go to nearest PCO and get. Time to ride in a Qualis. Doesn't start. Needs to be pushed. We are off, knowing that if we cut the engine we are stranded. Make it to the next station ok. Get a push start again on our way back.
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A man and a woman walk in. They are talked to by an inspector. Is it a domestic violence issue? The inspector looks at them earnestly while talking. It almost seems like a marriage enrichment session.
I see them come again later in the morning.
I see them come again later in the morning.
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The colonial wooden arches of the station remind of another era. The ubiquitous calendars of a certain local business are found in each room. Various deity images adorn the walls. I hear Hindu names among the policemen - and a surprising number of Muslim ones too. Plane clothes as well as ones in uniforms.
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A man sits down in the corner next to me. He slumps with a sad smile on his face. Caught driving a truck without a license. After 30 mins he is called. Something happens and he leaves.
Did he pay a fine? Or was it a bribe? How much does the amount vary depending on whether you are passive or aggressive?
Did he pay a fine? Or was it a bribe? How much does the amount vary depending on whether you are passive or aggressive?
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People walk in at all times. Most do not wear uniforms. Who is who? The great guessing game continues.
People walk in at all times. Most do not wear uniforms. Who is who? The great guessing game continues.
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