‘I had no clue what to do...I stood there, hands locked behind, chest thrust ahead’

CHENNAI: It was December 1972. I had just returned from my Army attachment to take my independent posting in the Vriddhachalam subdivision, as Asst. Superintendent of Police.

The subdivision was one of the largest in the state, with all the rural attributes of those days — little communication, transport, electricity, roads, drinking water, food facilities etc.

It sprawled from Tholudur to Nagari on Grand Southern Trunk Road and from Trivannamalai to Chinnasalem on the Salem-Trivannamalai road. It had 14 stations and three outposts with an abundant number of criminal gangs, property crimes, murder cases, and traffic accidents to keep any young Assistant Superintendent of Police on toes.

On the third day of my joining, as I was acclimatising myself with my camp clerk about problems in the subdivision, I received a lightning trunk call from my Superintendent of Police from Cuddalore, curtly ordering me that I should proceed to Moongilthuraipattu sugar factory as its thousand-strong workforce has threatened to go on an indefinite strike.

After the order, the phone was snapped and I, the novice, had no clue what I should do at the sugar factory where workers are in a combative mood. Neither my Police Academy nor my practical training had taught me anything about handling a strike like this. I asked my camp clerk what I should do in such a situation. He was also a youngster like me. He suggested I could perhaps ask for instructions from the Superintendent himself. I was not sure of the reaction of the Superintendent. Yet, having no other option, I booked a lightning call and hesitatingly asked him, “Sir, what should I do after going there?” Prompt came the reply: “Go there, young man. You will know what you should do.”

Disappointed, I took recourse to the Special Branch Inspector, who usually assists the Superintendent in law and order matters. He was a kind soul, who took pity on my plight and said I need not worry as he would provide me with any number of men and vehicles to meet the situation. I was glad about the offer and asked him to provide me with wireless sets too as by then I had ascertained that the roads to the factory, communication facilities, food and water, fuel and electricity facilities were really bad. The

Inspector gave me the wireless sets and offered an efficient Anglo Indian Reserve Inspector to assist me. I moved from Cuddalore to Moongilthuraipattu in my car, with my tiffin carrier, holdall, and campcot.

My men followed me. In front of the convoy, there were two motorcycles, really despatch riders, piloting us. Those days, only lorries were there to move men in bulk, from place to place, unlike now when men have cosy buses to travel.

They had to stand and travel even for very long distances then. They won’t get down from vehicles unless they were explicitly ordered to debus.

We reached our destination around dusk, travelling roughly a hundred kilometres. I could see a large gathering of workers with red flags standing at the gate, chanting slogans extolling their union and listing their demands.

As the Reserve Inspector and I got down from my car, the pitch, volume and speed of slogan-shouting mounted up.

For me, this was my first experience of a mob. I was a bit nervous. Yet not exhibiting it, I stood there facing them with my hands locked behind, head erect, and chest pushed forward. I remembered the stance of Napoleon described in the poem I have studied in the fourth form which starts, “You know, we French stormed Ratisbon”.

The Reserve Inspector could easily gauge that I was standing inert as I did not know what to do next. He suggested whether he could order debus the men. I ordered the Inspector to do it. Men in helmets with full boots on, with their lathis, shields and rifles jumped out of the vehicles at blistering speed. Even their jumping out would unnerve even the most determined striker. They fell in threes.

The IPS training in me asserted itself. My panic disappeared. I ordered the Inspector to report strength. When he did, I ordered him to take out the infantry drill. For, I have read in the training college, a disciplined, determined and well-drilled force would send shivers in the spine of a mob. The Reserve Inspector being an old guard, a veteran in a stentorian voice, commanded his men for about five minutes with a rare rhythm that I could notice the striking mob growing scary, shirking their resolve and melting stealth.

I ordered the Reserve Inspector to halt the parade and ease the men as it had served its purpose. He, in turn, whispered into my ears that it would be befitting to give them rest for a while. I ordered loudly, “Give Rest”. The Reserve Inspector asked me: “Sir, rest with boots or without boots?” The answer to this was not something that was taught to me in the academy. So, I hesitated for a trice and ordered loudly again: “Half with boots, half without boots.”

When all these were happening, I noticed the local Sub-Inspector was talking to the striking workers. As I was wondering whether the Sub Inspector was working against us, cosying up with the labourers on strike, he came towards me, accompanied by the labour leader who had an apple in his hand. The Sub Inspector introduced him to me. The labour leader did a big namaskaram and extended his hand with the apple towards me.

What had been taught in the academy rushed into my head. “You should not accept any favour either from management or from labourers. You should remain absolutely neutral.”

The apple in the leader’s hand appeared to me to be the forbidden apple in the Bible, which Eve ate, tempted by Satan and fed Adam too and “brought death into this world with the loss of Eden.”

So, I sternly refused to accept the apple. But the Sub Inspector recommended that it was after all an apple and that it was a gesture of courtesy and respect to the new Assistant Superintendent of Police.

With a lot of hesitation and unwillingness, I accepted the apple from him and gave it immediately to the Sub Inspector to slice it into four — a piece for me, a piece for the labour leader, a piece for the Sub Inspector, and a piece for the Reserve Inspector — so that the venal sin would not be solely on me.

The labour leader, in a measured tone, informed me that I need not have brought such a heavy force to deal with rural law-abiding labourers and that they would not cause any law and order problems. Also, that their strike was perfectly legal as they had asked for prior permission and not subsequent concurrence and went on explaining to me, the subtle differences between the two, the nuances of labour laws and industrial disputes Act, factory Act etc.

Deeply impressed by the erudition of the leader, I asked him if he was a lawyer by profession. He smiled and said that he was a table boy at a hotel in Puducherry, charged with the responsibility of running the trade unions in the sugar industry!

True to his words, the labourers did not give any trouble. However, the mill did not function. The policemen that I brought were taken back to headquarters as days rolled by, as there was no problem in the factory. I had only skeleton strength with me.

The authorities, however, seemed to have felt that the strike was illegal and that it should be ended.

So, one evening suddenly, the Superintendent and the District Collector who had not so far visited the place, landed there and pulled up the Sub Inspector, Inspector, and tahsildar for allowing the strike to continue, without taking any coercive action against the labourers. They spared me as I was too young to be practical.

After the bitter session, the trio went for a solution to the problem. They approached the labour leader and asked him and the labourers to picket in front of the factory gate when senior administrative staff not on strike enter the factory the next day.

They readily obliged as they were also tired of the uneventful strike. The next day the police arrested a sizeable number of labourers who picketed. Yet the factory could not be opened as those who were still out were adamant.

The stalemate continued till the cane growers started complaining their sugar cane was withering as they were not seasonally cut for crushing. One day in the first week of March, when in Vridhachalam, where I had gone to attend my routine chores, I received a terse instruction from the Superintendent of Police that I should rush back to the factory as a law and order situation was expected.

I had only 20 men and half a tear gas squad with me. When I reached the factory, I found nearly a thousand-strong cane growers’ mob, mostly inebriated, standing with cycle chains, wall clock springs, sickles, crowbars, pickaxes, shovels, and logs of wood, ready to march to the quarters of labourers to evict them and their families as they had no right to stay on the premises, since they did not work.

I also saw the workers in groups standing with weapons equally lethal and daring the cane growers to march and meet them in the duel. I found the situation really volatile. What the Superintendent told me the first day came into my mind.

“Go there, young man. You will know what you should do.”

I decided to interpose myself between the two and warn the aggressors of violating the law of regulation. As I did, one of the veteran cane growers shouted that he had seen British bullets and I, a mere 25-year-old, could not order them about. I tried to reason with them but they were bullish and bent upon marching to confront the labourers. The labourers were also challenging them to advance while exhorting us the police, to keep ourselves away.

Determined to disperse the advancing mob and avert bloody violence tear gas was fired on the advancing cane growers, followed by a heavy lathi charge. I found policemen were ruthless with their lathis, and my attempts to rally them back were futile.

Inspector asked: ‘Sir, rest with boots or without boots?’ The answer to this was not something that was taught to me in the academy. I hesitated for a trice and ordered loudly: ‘Half with boots, half without boots’

The apple in the leader’s hand appeared to me to be the forbidden apple in the Bible, which Eve ate, tempted by Satan and fed Adam too and ‘brought death into this world with the loss of Eden’. I sternly refused to accept it

As I was mustering them back, the local Inspector turned the tear gas squad and fired shells on the labourers. I saw many injured in both camps.

After the agonising action, I reported the events to the Superintendent of Police over radiotelephone. The Superintendent listened to it carefully but did not utter a word leaving me to wonder about his reaction. Later in the night, he came to the factory accompanied by a force. I was afraid whether he would chide and take me to task for resorting to police action, injuring so many.

But when he got down from his vehicle, he gave a broad smile and patted me on my back and said, “Well done, young man. This is how you should take decisions independently.”

Later, I asked the Inspector why he teargassed the labourers, who were only defenders. He said, “Sir, you were teargassing men of the ruling party. If you do not tear gas the labourers who belong to the opposition party, you will be badly questioned by the government later. You should be not only ethical in law and order but also shrewd and cunning.”

A law and order syllogism that holds true forever!