A Courtesy Call

‘Sir, you have a visitor’, announced the chaprasi-cum-phone attendant.

The young SDO had returned from a tiring, day-long tour of the dehat, supervising the work of the field officials: Patwaris, and other village level workers; it was already 8.30 PM on a chilly winter evening, and his wife was ready to serve dinner; and hence, he was mildly irritated. Why does the guard at the gate allow visitors to the residence at such late hours, he grumbled? But when he stepped out to the porch and the visitor greeted him with a polite bow, he knew why the guard at the gate couldn’t have stopped him.

‘Kalyan Singh Ji, kaise ana hua?’ he asked with his impeccable tehzeeb.

It was a polite way of saying hello. Kalyan Singh visited him, once or twice a month, always at the residence, and at a date and time of his choosing, which was usually late in the evening. Somehow, he always knew when the SDO saheb would be at home and he would have his undivided attention.

‘Aaj aap se nahin, Bai Saheb se milna hai,’ he said as if it was the most natural thing to demand an audience with the officer’s newly-wed wife, without appointment, and at this late hour. The young officer knew that Kalyan Singh was not one to take no for an answer, and there was no point in explaining to him the niceties of the protocol for calling on a lady.

After his two-year training, the young officer had been posted as Sub Divisional Officer & Sub Divisional Magistrate at Dabra, a small town at a distance of 44 kms from Gwalior, the district headquarters. That was his first substantive charge, and he was for the Sub Division what the District Collector was for the district. He had got married a few months earlier but his wife had stayed back at Lucknow to write her final examinations, and had joined him at Dabra only a few days ago.

He went in to the dining hall where his wife was waiting, and said, the visitor wants to meet you. Why, what for, asked his wife, why would a visitor like to meet me? She knew no one at Dabra and no one knew her. Why would anyone demand to meet her, she couldn’t fathom?

Don’t worry, it’s just a courtesy call, assured her husband. She stepped out and was startled to see a towering 6.5 ft tall, burly man with a handle-bar moustache, a large vermilion mark on the forehead, and a rifle slung on his shoulder. He wore a dhoti, a long kurta, and a jacket with a rough shawl draped over it, and had a humongous turban on his head.  

Before she could say anything, the visitor bent down with some difficulty to touch her feet while ensuring to keep the muzzle of the rifle well away from her body.

‘Aap hamare ilake mein pehli baar padharen hain, isliye darshan karne ayen hain’, he said and without any further fuss took out a garland from under his shawl and was about to drape it on her neck when she flinched and stepped back. The visitor got the message and bent down to offer the garland which she accepted, joined her palms for a quick namaste before darting back into the house. Still in a daze, she asked, ‘Who was he?’

‘Oh, Kalyan Singh Ji. He was once a much-feared dacoit of the Chambal ravines, but hung up his rifle; and comes for a courtesy visit at least once a month to keep me posted about the movement of various gangs in the area.’

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Note:

1.    Based on the narration by D.S. Mathur (IAS:MP:1971), Former SDO, Dabra; and Prof. Lalita Mathur.

2.    The dreaded Chambal dacoits with a hefty reward on their heads - Madho Singh and Mohar Singh - had surrendered, along with 200 dacoits, and had laid down their rifles at the feet of Jai Prakash Narayan before a crowd of 10000 people at village Dhorera, Dist-Morena, on 14/04/1972, only a year before D.S. Mathur was posted to Dabra.

3.    Phoolan Devi surrendered before Arjun Singh, CM, MP at Bhind in 1982.

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Note: 

1. Author's profile may be seen at http://amazon.com/author/pkdash

2. Books by this author are available on Amazon.in, Kindle eBook, Flipkart, and Notion Press, Chennai.

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