AT THE POINT OF A GUN

AT THE POINT OF A GUN

We often see in films the scene of someone holding another at a gun point. I do not know how many must have experienced in their life the chill of being really at a gun point. Well, I had faced such a situation once.

My memories are mostly of the first part of my career when I had been in the military. It could be because of the influence and enjoyment of the myriad experiences I gained in sharing life with different people from different places, with different culture, and different languages. It taught me at times to expect the most unexpected nature of behaviour too. I am beginning to narrate one such incident.

Bangalore was a peaceful area in those days. There were no terrorist threats. Life in the military camps was peaceful. There was no  tight security for entering the domestic area of the camp. There was no fear of security even in the sensitive technical areas. I happened to be in Bangalore recently and had visited the camp area where I had spent a few years, long ago. The whole camp area was found to be tightly isolated with high double crossed wire fencing running around it. I could see a number of guards keeping watch holding the most modern guns in their hands. Security is tight now even for the domestic areas. It was not so during my time.

I worked in a military base in Bangalore during those calm days. I was posted for duty in a transmitter station to work in shifts. Being a trained technician, my job was only to ensure that the transmitters always functioned well. I was to attend and set things right if any malfunction occurred in any transmitter during my duty time. The transmitter building was two kilometers away from my quarter where I stayed. There was a security wall around the transmitter building. One guard in military uniform with a .303 rifle and with an ammunition of ten rounds always remained on duty at the entrance gate. The duty of the guards was in three shifts. There were three of them only and changed duty as per their shifts.  I was working in a four shift system, whereby I was required to be on the night shift once in every four days. I was quite familiar with all the guards as I would be meeting one or the other every time I went for the duty. The guards were supposed to check my identity or of any person seeking entrance to the building and they were to allow only the persons required to be on duty. Strictly speaking, they should ask for the identity card and confirm the identity even if the person wore uniform. Apart from that, they could ask for the pass word to the person seeking entrance. Pass word gets changed each day and would be available only with the Orderly Officer of the day.

An Orderly Officer would be appointed for each day to have a general control of the camp during non-working hours. It was for him to ensure that every thing was running in order. The Orderly Officer of the day would only decide the pass word for the day. Persons on duty should obtain the pass word from the day’s appointed Orderly Officer. For security reasons, the Orderly Officer would not communicate the pass word over phone and would only pass it personally to those who required it, after confirming their identity and their nature of duty. His office would be at the Headquarters, which was about three kilometers from my quarter and in a different direction from that for the transmitter building.

Since all the guards were personally well known to me, there was no need for me to obtain the pass word. It was a tedious job to pedal three kilometers to the Headquarters to obtain the password and then pedal again three kilometers, which was the distance from the Headquarters to the transmitter building. No one at duty in the transmitter building ever bothered to obtain the pass words as all of us were quite familiar with the guards. There was no need for any pass word when people are familiar and known to each other. There could be no better identity than the familiarity.

The guards knew our time of changing the shifts. The guard on duty would open the gates from a distance itself if he saw me coming for the duty. I would not stop my cycle, but just pass on. The guard on duty would wish me while I passed and I would return the wish with a smile and waving of my hand. That was the usual practice. But it went unusual one day.

I was going for the night shift duty.  I found the gates closed and the guard was standing in front of it. He was not opening the gates. From a distance, I thought that he might be a new person. But, as I neared, I could see that it was one of the three guards I always see there. I wondered why he was not opening the gate. I stopped my cycle on a side and got down from it.

Before I could enquire any thing he threw the question to me from a ten feet distance itself, “what is the pass word?”

I was totally bewildered. The fellow knew me well. Then why did he put this question? Was he trying to be fully official on this day?

Somehow I had to get in. So, I said, “I have the identity card with me.” Holding my identity card in my hand, I began to move a little forward.

“Halt there”, he shouted at the top of his voice. That stopped me then and there. He was not interested to see my identity card.

The fellow took out the cartridges from his pocket and loaded his rifle. This man had turned out to be dangerous, I thought. After loading it, he put the cock forward to be ready to fire the first round and aimed the muzzle of his rifle directly to my chest. Then he pushed the safety catch forward. I was watching those movements and I was astonished to see that he really meant business. I knew about the rifle well. I was trained on it. One should always keep the safety catch back, unless he was in a very precarious situation and would need to open fire immediately. Putting the safety catch forward was the last thing to do before triggering.

“I will fire, if you put a step forward”, he warned me in clear terms. The index finger would automatically move on to the trigger, once you hold the rifle in that position. I knew that from my own practice with the rifle. I imagined that his finger must be on the trigger now.  Knowingly or unknowingly, a little slip of the finger was enough for the gun to fire. I knew that very well. I looked at him. He was breathing heavily and returned a blank look back. The transmitter building was in a secluded place and no one else was there nearby. The building lay at about 20 yards from the entrance gate.

I began sweating. I looked at his face again as if to beg for mercy. It was hard and fierce. The chill of fear began running down my spine.

He repeated the question, “What is the pass word?”

In shivering words I said, “I do not know”.

I was wondering what would be his follow up action. Would he fire? No one in his right sense would do that. But this man looked out of sense. Any thing could happen.

“Then go back. I wouldn’t permit you in”, he growled.

Was that all? What came like a mountain went off like a rat. I felt relieved. He had allowed me to go back. I was afraid that he would straight away fire. That did not happen. That much courage he didn’t have, I realized.

Withdrawing from him, I pedalled all the way to the Headquarters, obtained the pass word and returned again. He saw me coming and this time opened the gates. I got down from the cycle and went to him. He did not ask me for the pass word now.  Even without his asking, I told him the pass word. He had become a little sober  by the time I returned.

 “You should be perfect when you come for duty, sir. You should have known the pass word and come”, he said sarcastically and cut a dirty laugh.

He was throwing the smell of cheap liquor while laughing. I could gather that he was heavily drunk. That explained his strange behaviour.

“Yes, ofcourse. But one should be perfect himself before checking on the perfection of others”, I replied.

After reaching my seat, I called up the military police. I informed them that the guard on duty was heavily drunk and was trying to shoot at people who came to him. I told them to be careful when they come, as his rifle was in loaded condition. That was my turn for him.

Within thirty minutes, a police jeep arrived with another guard and a few policemen. The drunken guard was disarmed and whisked away. I never saw him at the guard post again. Nevertheless, I took the lesson from him. I made it a point to obtain the password always, before I went for duty.

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LOUDER, PLEASE

After sitting comfortably on the chair, I took the receiver of the phone to make my first call. There was no dial tone. I had just been in the office to start the day’s work. Starting itself is on a negative node, I thought. Better to register the complaint and get it repaired. Telephone was integral to my work. I got up from my chair and proceeded to the room next where my friend sat. I could register the complaint from his phone. Sitting in front of him, for courtesy sake, I requested  his permission to use his phone.

“This phone is dead.” He said. “What happened to yours?” He asked.

“It seems all the phones are dead today. I came here to register the complaint of my phone”, I answered.

“No, No”, he said. “I have now only used your phone to register the complaint of my phone. It must be all right. You just try again and see” He expressed his disbelief.

“Okay”, I said and got up to return. He came along with me to ensure that what he said was true.

Again, I took the receiver of my phone and put it against my ear. Still, there was no tone. I told him that. He took the receiver from my hand and put it against his ear. Then he looked at my face. After a moment’s thought he said, “You put it against your other ear and see. It is working”.

I didn’t approve of his suspecting the quality of my left ear. Till this time, I had never felt any complaint on it. All the same, I put the receiver to my right ear. Instantly, the light went off from my face. He was true. The tone was loud and clear. I put the receiver back against my left ear. It was again dead. No, it was alive. My left ear seemed dead.

Having won his case, my friend left the room throwing an anxious look at me. I pondered over what could have gone wrong. I put the tip of the middle finger of my left hand inside my left ear and rotated it inside a little and then pulled it out suddenly. If there be a water drop, oil or dust, it could come out with the pressure of air from inside. I put the receiver again back to my left ear and then to the right. Position remained same. Some thing was wrong with my left ear.

Till I left the office on the previous day, I had not felt any hearing problem. After returning home, in the night, I had indulged in drinks with a neighbour friend. A little over drunk I was. I had put more ice cubes than was ordinarily required. I was enjoying its coolness in the battering heat of the summer. After my friend left, I had felt a sudden and severe pain in the inside of my right thigh. Severe was it, as if a nerve was broken. I had twisted and turned in pain on the bed for some time and later got recovered from it. Could that have any thing to do with the impairment of my ear? I wondered. I decided to consult an ENT specialist in the town.

The doctor removed a little wax from the ear and then checked my hearing capacity with a tuning fork. There was no improvement. He prescribed a liquid of which three or four drops were to be put in the ear three or four times a day. He asked me to come again after three days. After three days, he removed some more wax from my ear and then again tested my hearing power. There was absolutely no progress. Then he referred me for a detailed check at a nearby ear and eye clinic and bring their report. It took several tests and a week to get their report. With that, I again went to the doctor. He studied the report well and put a full stop to all my hope by announcing that my left ear had been impaired permanently.

“Your right ear has 80% hearing ability, where as your left ear has only under 20%”, He explained.

“How much would be required for a pass?”, I queried, half jokingly and half seriously.

The doctor laughed but did not reply.

“Wouldn’t there be some medicines to improve the hearing?”, I stressed on the serious part of my question.

“Medicine can not improve. It has become a permanent disability”, he tried to convince.

I was feeling a low whistling sound all the time in my left ear since it went dead. Like a sound that you could hear when your ear is kept close to the mouth of an empty flask. I told him of that.

“It happens in such cases”, he dismissed it.

Then I remembered the night incident. One should tell everything to a doctor to have a clear picture for him. I told him of the severe pain I had after the icy drinks.

 “That has nothing to do with this.” he replied.

“Then what could be the reason for it?”, I asked.

“There could be a block in one of your blood vessels to the ear”, he made an assumption.

“Can’t it be identified by scanning and operated upon to set right?”, I was still in hope.

“Sometimes, but not certain”, he replied. “It is risky”, he warned. “Thank God, the block is in the vessel to your ear only and not in the vessel to your heart”, he pointed out the positive aspect to make me happy.

I left. But I decided to take a second opinion on the issue. There could be someway out.

I went to another ENT specialist who was also very renowned. I placed all my reports obtained earlier after the test and requested for his opinion.

He went through all the papers and said, “I don’t have a different opinion. What he said was true.”

“Why do you worry over it? You have the other ear functioning well. When that also fails we can think about an alternative.”, He tried to pacify me.

“How about trying some medicine to remove the block, if at all there is any?”, I suggested.

He looked at me for a few seconds.

“Okay. Let us try then”, he quipped and prescribed some tablets.

“At least he has shown a positive attitude. He was not like the other man. There is nothing wrong in trying a chance with medicines. Doctors should not disappoint patients..”, so and so I went on thinking as I walked to the medical shop.

But I wanted to know how much hope I can put on these tablets. He had told me to take them for two weeks and again meet him for further course of medicines, if required.

After buying the tablets, I asked the salesman as to how good it was to remove the blocks in blood vessels.

“No sir, it is not for removing the blocks. It is just for removing the anxiety from the mind. Psychiatrists often prescribe them. I don’t know why the ENT specialist prescribed it. There could be some reason. Who knows?” He disposed me with that and continued with his job of searching medicines for the next man.

I threw the medicine packet on the way side. “What did the doctor think of me? That I am mad or something?”, I was annoyed.

I did not visit any doctor thereafter and decided to put up with this infirmity for the rest of my life. “Let it be. Many are without even some very vital parts. This is nothing. At least I have another ear and would not be totally deaf”, I consoled myself.

It did not change my life in any way. But, at times I would have to say “louder, please” to people. I realized why God had given two ears. One should be there even if the other fails. Same goes with eyes too.

But there were some difficulties in the beginning. While driving, I would hear the horn of an oncoming car as that of coming from  behind and vice-versa. It would be difficult to exactly judge from where a sound was coming. I began to talk a little louder, louder for others but normal for me. While sitting in a bus, I would have to act as sleeping if the person left to me started talking. While traveling with wife, I would tell her to sit at my right side. Once when she happened to sit on the left side, I had to turn my head 90 degree to the left several times and when I finally felt neck pain, I requested her to sit silent. At home, I would have to sit closer to the TV to hear at others’ level.

After my retirement, I engaged my self as a consultant on service tax and central excise matters. With my experience in service, I was competent to present cases in the Courts. Last month I appeared in the Court on behalf of a firm. As I started presenting my arguments, the Judge interrupted in between and said, “Louder, please”. I was stunned. Those were my words, always.  I looked at his ears and found a thin cord running behind his left ear lobe. A smile began to spread over my lips, but I controlled it. Raising my voice, I proceeded with my arguments.

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IDENTITY MISTAKEN

My marks in matriculation were good enough to earn me a seat in the science batch in the nearest college, without any difficulty. I was too young a boy to be called a college student. I still wore short trousers which only reached a little above my knees. Those were the ones I wore while studying in the high school. I was getting a promotion from school to college. I felt that my dress should also reflect it. I had seen the boys in colleges wearing dhotis and not short trousers. Wearing pants was not common in those days as in the present times. Even those who got them stitched for a style, felt shy of wearing them as that would invite special attraction and teasing comments. I felt that I needed dhotis to wear while going to college. I told my mother that I needed them. I had my mother only then to make all my requests, as my father was away due to his job requirements. My mother was not quite convinced of my requirement of dhotis.

 “Those trousers are still fit for you. When they wear out, we could buy dhotis in place of them. For the present, it is enough”, said she as her final decision. Once decided, she wouldn’t listen further. Thrifty she was then, as she had no money to spend other than for what was essentially required. Even in the later years, I had never found her to be extravagant at any time.

I began my college days by wearing short trousers. To my relief, I found that three or four other boys also wore short trousers like me. On the opening day of the college, one tall boy from the back bench came to each of us and told that we should change over to dhotis from the next week. I didn’t know by which way he felt offended of my wearing short trousers, but I kept that thought to myself. He was also new to the college, but by seeing him I felt that he might have spent more years in the lower classes than me. He was tall and stoutly built. There was an ugly long scar on his left cheek, with its lower end a bit twisted towards his lips. I did not reply him, and his looks itself made me to despise him.

All the other boys obeyed him and came in dhotis in the next week. I too wanted to obey. Not because of fear alone, but because I wanted to be in tune with the rest. But, I had to wait until my trousers got worn out. I had no much choice.

The boy with the ugly scar on his face seemed to be annoyed at my disobedience. He started making fun of me in front of others. The others included the girl students also. As days passed, I began to feel his insults unbearable. I used to sit in the front bench. One day, he came from the back and sat by the side of me and began to humiliate me. He pulled on my cheeks and pinched on my thighs. As I got up and tried to move away, he warned that he would continue to do so if I didn’t wear a dhoti on the next day. I found the girls sitting in the near by bench putting their heads down on the desk and laughing. That was more embarrassing. Personally, I felt dejected in having to wear the short trousers. Added with his humiliation, I felt depressed to a great extent.

It was not possible for me to wear dhoti on the next day. As I sat on the front bench, I threw a glance to the back to see whether he had come. He was looking at me and got up from his seat. I knew he was aiming me. Immediately, I got up from my seat and climbed on the dais. I thought that he would not dare to do anything in front of every one when I stood on the dais. I was mistaken. He also climbed on the dais, bent a little and squeezed my thighs with both his hands. I felt badly ashamed as many boys and girls were sitting in the class and watching the show. More than the shame, I felt my anger taking the better of me. As he straightened up, in a moment of frenzy, I slapped him hard on his face with all my might right across his scar. It took a few seconds for me to realize that I had slapped him. The girls and some of the boys got up from their seats, as if they expected something awkward to happen. Pin drop silence reigned the room. I couldn’t believe what I did. I was never a person to slap any one.

The class room seemed to be waiting for what would follow. I knew what would follow. In a split of a moment, I pushed him away and ran off from the class room. After reaching a little away, I turned around to see whether he was following. No, he was not. I waited there to get myself cooled down. I wondered how I would go to the class again. I was sure that he was not going to spare me. He would definitely be waiting to give me my bit. I would not stand a chance before him.

The bell rang for the classes to begin. I slowly walked towards the class room and waited outside till the teacher came. As the teacher neared close, I entered the class and sat on my seat. I didn’t look back. But I was not attentive in the class. My safety was my priority. My thoughts were on how to ensure it. When the bell rang announcing the end of the period, I got up and followed the teacher to outside. That was the way I managed the whole day. I would enter along with the teacher and I would go out along with the teacher. I could not be attentive to the classes at all. I was thinking on finding a solution to the issue. And I took my decision before I reached back home.

The decision was that I wouldn’t go to the college any more without wearing dhotis. When my mother found that I was not getting ready to go to the college on the next day, she enquired whether it was a holiday for the college. I said my decision. I did not tell her any thing that happened in the college. I told only that it was too shameful a thing to go to college in short trousers. I would rather stop my studies. That convinced her. I was given the money to buy two dhotis.

When I proceeded to the college wearing the dhoti, I had the fear in me whether he would retaliate. But I had met with his demand and he could definitely consider it as a partial victory for him. I hoped he would be satisfied with that. But the slapping remained to be settled. What would he do for that? I didn’t know. But I decided to go and sit in the class as before without bothering on what transpired in between.

Nothing happened. He never came to me. We never talked to each other. I avoided looking at that scary face. But all the same, I felt a little lonely and deserted. My talks were limited. I could not make much friendship with any one. The shame I had to suffer on the dais remained large in my mind. My expectations of shining as a college student died down in the beginning itself. I lost my interest in studies. I was only interested to complete the course somehow and get out of the college. I remained lone-some through out my college days.

In the final exam, I got marks enough for a pass but not enough to get an admission to any degree course. I remained at home for two years before I joined the military.

*     *     *     *     *

A few years passed. I was sitting in the camp canteen on a bright Sunday morning, enjoying a native break fast; a change from the routine mess food. Some one tapped on my shoulder. I turned to look at him. That scary face was there before me all in smiles. I was surprised to see him there. I wondered how he happened to be there. But I did not ask. I kept my questions to myself. I did not respond well. He told me that he had seen me a few days ago in uniform and learned that I too had joined the force like him. He continued that he joined the force immediately after the pre-degree results were published. That meant he was senior to me in the force by two years, I thought. The days in college flashed through my mind. It was only for a moment that I looked at him. I did not want to get involved with him any more. I was not going to take his bait.  I withdrew my eyes from his laughing face and continued with my breakfast.

But, he waited. He waited till I finished my breakfast and washed. He came along with me to outside and kept on talking. He requested me to forget the incident in the college. He said that he was deeply sorry for what had happened. He admitted that it was a big mistake on his part. He told that he had only the intention to bring me up to the level of others and where he failed was in considering my feelings. He expected that I would take it in a jolly spirit. He said that he realized well the humiliation he caused to me only when I dared to slap him. I stopped walking and looked at his face.

“Don’t remind me of those days again. I am not interested.” I said curtly.

Normally, I should have been very glad to have the company of a native in a distant place and that too when he was my class mate. But, I could not much appreciate the company of this man whom I hated from my first day in the college. I tried to maintain a distance from him. But he never missed a chance to be with me. He made it a point not to talk to me about our college days again.

I was a fresh man in the camp and I had to spread out my bedding on the floor, as there was no cot available. I could get one only when someone got transferred and a cot fell vacant. When he found that, he made arrangements for me to get the cot immediately. He was a senior man and he could make such arrangements. He began taking care of me in each and every difficulty I faced. He was behaving like a good guardian. Once when I fell ill and was admitted in the hospital, he used to visit me every day bringing some fruits with him. He would talk to me endlessly till the visiting time was over. One day I ended up in an argument with someone in the bar. The man against me was so annoyed that he got up and caught hold of my collar. Someone from a nearby table was immediately on his feet and pulled the man from behind by his collar. In the un-expected move, the man against me fell down as his feet got trapped by his chair. “Do not dare to touch him.” He shouted. “He is my brother”, he declared loudly for everyone in the bar to hear. It was him. I had not known that he was sitting there and watching me.

Back in my bed, my thoughts rolled around him. The words “my brother” kept ringing in my mind. He was correct. He had been behaving to me like an elder brother and a guardian. It was me who kept a rude face always. I thought of my college days. “Was he in fact responsible for that?” I asked to myself. “Was not my mother more responsible for the whole episode?’ If only she had given me the money when I asked first, nothing would have happened. He had said that he had under-estimated my feelings. It could be true. That was why he had not disturbed me again or retaliated for my action. I began to feel sorry for my rudeness and decided to change my attitude to him.

In no time, we became fast friends. We went everywhere together. We saw the movies together. I was no more carrying any ill feelings against him. He was to me a friend, a guardian and an elder brother, in his own words. Whenever we went outside the camp, we would always be together. We enjoyed being together in our days in the camp.

But our days together were not to last long. After a year, he got his transfer to a north eastern region. I told him that it would be fine if I too got a transfer to the same place later. He said he wished that I didn’t get my posting there as the place would be too hard to live. I went to the Railway Station to see him off. I felt very sad. I was loosing a great friend and a valuable company. As the train was about to move, I said that we would meet again at some other military station. “Sure, sure”, he replied. I waved my hands and saw him off. That was the last I ever saw him.

*     *     *     *     *

A few days ago I found him staring at me again. I was going through the obituary column of the newspaper.  His face, even though looking a little older, had not undergone much change. That scar was very much visible. I looked at it and remembered that I had once slapped him there. I remembered the happy days we spent together. Tears welled in my eyes.

“We would meet again in the next station, friend. Please wait… please wait for me…”, my heart yearned.

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