By Maxwell Pereira
After our success in solving the recent Vasant Kunj murders. I wrote to the residents of the Southern Range about the modus operandi of the domestic Tika Ram, who had eliminated an entire family, and of the ‘Delhi strangler’, Neeraj, who used to befriend young maids to gain access to their employers’ households and then murder the women after looting the houses.
In my letter, I had also informed the residents of the need for them to get to know the beat constables of their respective areas, of how important the role of these police functionaries was in the prevention of crime in residential areas. From the flood of responses, it seems, my efforts was not entirely wasted.
Now, let me go down memory lane to the days when I was policing a district. It used to upset me when everyone wanted to meet only the commissioner. Or the Deputy Commissioner. And not anyone lower. “Oh no! Not the constable,” people would exclaim in horror. How can anyone talk to a constable? He’s such a rustic – so crude! He doesn’t even know how to behave. In any case, how would it help? One has heard that all he does is collect haftas. It’s best to avoid him like the plague.
But then, I would really insist on asking everyone: “Have you met the SHO? Or the Division Officer? Do you know the name of your beat constable?” Invariably, the answer would be ‘no’. And I would try to motivate the complainants to know these very important functionaries, who really mattered. I would tell them that it may be a good idea to get to know the constable who stays awake at night to walk the beat, “to ensure your safety and security”.
I would insist that the division officer and the beat constable be invited to meetings with residents’ welfare associations. “Once you get to know the beat constable, share a cup of tea with him, and raise him to your level”. I would reason, “he would be wary of you missing his presence and most of all would be proud of knowing you, proud of being associated with you, proud of your acceptance of him and the recognition given to him by you”.
My efforts were not in vein. I remember how I had to face opposition from the residents of certain colonies when I sought to transfer some of my policemen to other beats. They did not want me to change their beat constable. By then, they all knew him well. And he was their protector. He worked to ensure that there was no crime in the area.
A retired Major General expressed similar sentiments to me the other day at a function of the federation of welfare associations of Vasant Kunj. The function had been organized to felicitate Delhi Police on the commendable job done in solving the Vasant Kunj murders. The retired Major General asked me whether I could reconsider the transfer of the beat constable of his area. The reason? He had served only four months on that beat (so, it was too early for him to be considered for a transfer) and had already got to know all the residents. More importantly, all the residents knew him. They did not want to lose him so soon. I agreed too, most heartily.
A retired adviser to the Railway Board has written to me from Vasant Vihar that there used to be a system of issuing cards to residents, giving the local beat constable’s name. The constable made it a practice to knock on each resident’s doors once in 10-to-15 days, to have a chat and check on problems, if any. The gentleman suggests that this system of the beat constable getting in touch with residents be revitalized.
But this is already being practised by our beat constables in the Senior Citizens’ Scheme – the idea is to be in touch with a vulnerable section of the population. Nonetheless, we welcome suggestions. The Director General (Investigations) at the National Human Rights Commission, Mr. Shanker Sen, for instance has written stressing the need for residents to know their beat constables. He suggests that officers even of the rank of ACP and DCP should drop in on residents accompanied by the beat constables and introduce them to the people.
We don’t have to look far for the worth of our beat constables. In the 1995 Annual Review of Delhi Police achievements, we had as many as 17 beat constables listed for extraordinary good work, which ensured out-of-turn promotions for many of them. Heading the list, naturally, was Constable Abdul Nazir Kunju, who was responsible for preventing the ‘tandoor’ murder case from going undetected.
It’s these 17 constables, and a number of their colleagues, who are the real policemen – they keep working silently, their work going unnoticed, only their mistakes making bold headlines in newspapers. These are the ones whose contribution is to be recognized, whose worth needs to be acknowledged by the people whom they serve.
In yet another letter addressed to me, Rotarian Govind Shahni from
“I am very happy to have met such a pleasant man who really wants to cooperate with members of the society as a fellow citizen. I wish to congratulate and salute the police for presenting to the society honest and polite policemen like Kabuli Chand.”
I can keep on relating many more similar experiences, but have not chosen to do so because of space constraints. We must treat them as officers, which they are, and not as inconsequential functionaries. It is in our interests to try and improve the stock of these beat constables, raising their living standards to a desirable level.
