A Providential Escape
On
the wings of angels
In 1969, my dad, who worked in the Indian Railways got
transferred to Bombay (now, Mumbai). I was ten years old. The next fifteen
years, till 1984, we lived less than 45 minutes’ walk or 4 kms from the Central
Business District (CBD) of Bombay, the Fort area, in South Mumbai.
The Fort area, in fact, was a fort when the British ruled India,
and so the name. It is the most visited place – and maybe – the only visited
place in Bombay - by foreign and domestic tourists alike – largely to re-live
British India in its architecture.
The walls of the fort were torn down in 1862 to allow the city
to expand.
While British were in India till 1947-48, the city expanded
little further off Bandra Station (inaugurated 1869) to Versova on the western
side of Bombay, and Sion on the eastern side of Bombay as part of the
Dadar-Matunga-Wadala-Sion scheme of 1899-1900.
The original islands of Bombay came into British possession with
the dowry of Catherine of Braganza of 1662, on her wedding to King Charles II
of England.
Catherine was the daughter of King John IV, who became the king
of Portugal from the House of Braganza in 1640 after overthrowing the rule of
the Spanish Habsburgs over Portugal.
The transformation of Bombay into India’s commercial capital
happened between the 1850s to 1820s.
Partly due to the cotton trade and setting up of the first
cotton mill in 1854 and the Revolt of 1857, that led to the British Crown
taking over the reins of India from the British East India Company (and this
period also coincided with the American Civil War, which lasted from 1860 to
1865, which fueled the global demand for Indian cotton manifold).
The last public building that projected the power and might of
the British Empire in India was the Gateway of India, built to commemorate the
landing in December 1911 at Apollo Bunder of King-Emperor George V and Queen
Empress Mary.
The monument was completed in 1924. From here the British exited
India in 1948, for good.
In 1984, when my father retired from the railways, we moved to
the outskirts of the city, beyond British India built Versova, but on the East
side of Mumbai – Andheri East.
The renowned Indian Institute of Technology, Bombay (IIT-B) was
in a place called Powai flanked by the Powai and Vihar lakes.
Set up in 1958, it was a small township in itself. An island of
green in the otherwise concrete jungle that was Bombay.
There was no Hiranandani Developers then. If they had begun work
on their first township in Powai, it was not visible to me in the warm yellow
of the street lights on the road I was walking on, one December night in the
early 80s, to get to my home in Marol, Andheri East from IIT Powai,
I had gone for IIT-B’s Annual Cultural Festival, Mood Indigo
with some of my college friends. The festival goes on for the whole night and
for four days.
Around midnight, I got restless, and decided to leave the
festival and go home. My friends chose to stay back and leave for home in the
morning. I don’t know whether they knew something that I did not.
I stepped out of the campus. There were several autos waiting
outside. But none would take my fare when I said I wanted to go to Marol,
Andheri East. This was my first time to IIT Mumbai. I had no idea where my home
was from there.
There was only one road and two directions. One of the auto
drivers was helpful enough to point me in the direction I needed to take to
reach my home in Andheri East.
When I looked in the direction, the auto driver was gesturing, I
could not see a soul on the road. He also had a funny look on his face.
I had two choices: go back and wait out the night with my
friends or hit the road. When we are given choices, for reasons that we shall
leave to psychologists, we always pick the latter.
I kept with the trend and began my solitary seven km long walk
home with stillness and trees for company. Of course, I did not know it was 7
kms or that it would take me good part of one hour and half to get home.
When you get started on something of this nature and you have
covered some distance, and you don’t have a clear sense of how much more
distance you have to cover, the thought does enter your head, that maybe, just
maybe, this midnight trek was uncalled for. That a right about turn would be
the right thing to do.
My recollection of the time that I was on the road was not of fear
– just a bit concerned about how long it would take to get home – for by
now I had walked for around half hour.
Then I heard a shout that not only startled me, but indeed
filled me with fear. It was that big blue Bombay police van in the distance.
Irony of life that police vans and police generally fill you with fear rather
than provide assurance.
“Tu Kuthe Jata Ahesa? Ikade Ye”. Where are you going? Come here,
they said in Marathi.
My heart skipping and my feet doing likewise, I reached the police
van. My mind was full of the Bhagalpur Blinding in the late 70s and 80s when
the police in Bihar had poured acid in the eyes of the undertrials and
convicts, thirty-one of them, in a brazen show of extra-judicial justice.
I had written about it in a Letter to the Editor in the Times of
India. Needless to say, I was thrilled to bits it got published – right in the
centre of the page – under the OpEd.
The memory of the incident was alive but not the thrill of the
publication as I faced the lead interrogator.
The other policemen stood around barely interested in the
proceedings. Like when caught cutting the traffic light; once the constable has
detained and handed you over to the Sub-Inspector, he feigns least interest in
you. Your fate is now left to the SI.
Where are you coming from? IIT Mumbai, Powai. What were you
doing there? Attending Mood Indigo Cultural Festival. Did you drink or smoke
(weed)? No, I don’t drink or smoke, at least I did not at the event. Praise
God!
Where are you going? Home at Marol, Andheri East. Why did you
not take an auto? The auto driver refused my fare. Why did they refuse the
fare? You ask them. No, I did not say that. This was not the time to be a
smart alec.
You know why they refused the fare? This was getting boring. The
man was just repeating his questions.
Then, I got the import of the question. That was the question.
Why did the auto drivers refuse my fare?
“The ‘Gestapo’ said look behind you.” My back was to the road
that I had come on. I turned around.
“You see the dim lantern-like lights behind every tenth or so
trees?” I could not see a thing. But I realized that this was not the time to
weigh on the fidelity of my sight. I said, “Yes”. It was easy to deduce that’s
what he wanted to hear.
Then the cop made his pronouncements.
“This is a dacoit-infested area. No one ventures to come alone
on this road. That’s why the auto drivers refused your fare.
"Behind the lantern-like lamps, hidden in the woods, are policemen keeping guard. We are here to respond in case the
dacoits show up or hold up any vehicle.
“You are very fortunate that they (dacoits) decided to take the
night off. Our duty here too is done. Our replacement is on the way. Come along
we will drop you home. It’s a long way from here”
I had a head rush. Memories of Bhagalpur came
stampeding back into my mind and rushed down to my toes. I wanted to fly
into the arms of the dacoits. I felt safer with them.
But my legs were jelly-like. My recollection is that the
policemen hoisted me on to the van on strong arms. Next thing I knew, I was
helped down from the van near my building’s gate. I couldn’t believe I was
home.
They too seem bemused that I couldn’t stop thanking them.
They said, “Don’t do such a reckless thing again. We won’t
always be there to bring you home.” No, these guys wouldn’t pour water, leave
alone acid in anyone’s eyes.
Today, when I reflect on the incident, my walk from IIT Mumbai
to my Andheri home, I cannot help but recall Psalm 34:7
“The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear Him, and He
delivers them.”
This was David’s prayer when fleeing from King Saul, who was
determined to kill him, agitated by the chant:
"Saul kills by the thousand,
David by the ten thousand!”
Such a reassuring prayer when we fear risk to our life.
Thursday, April 23, 2020
No comments:
Post a Comment