This is a story of a trained sentinel who acted like a scoundrel and of a poor three-wheeler driver who became a sentinel by rescuing a young boy. Here are the stories of role reversal. The Ranchi streets witnessed the stories live.

It was 9.30 in the morning. A tribal youth fell from his bike, his head bleeding after a car hit the Hero Honda he was riding, on the Bariatu Road near the Rajendra Institute of Medical Sciences (RIMS). Injured, the youth staggered towards his fallen bike. The passers-by, who had gathered around the venue, soon sensed that the bleeding youth was dead drunk. Some mocked and derided him for drunk driving. Others joined in to park his bike near the Heritage Tower on the road and tried to take him to the RIMS nearby.

Meanwhile, a motorcycle carrying a constable in uniform with a name plate flashing, stopped. The public and I, thought the matter was now in capable hands.

But to our utter shock, we discovered that the constable himself was equally drunk. Leaving his bike in the middle of the busy road, he headed menacingly towards the bleeding youth, hurling abuses on him. He commanded that the tribal boy should hand him over the bike, his money, wristwatch and cell phone, as a price for the accident he had “created”.

Scared at the site of the drunken constable, who was screaming off four-letter words with felicity, the passers-by who had gathered to help the youth started to thin out.

Soon the delirious sentinel whipped out his baton directing the youth to show his wallet. It was then that the owners of some fancy shops in Heritage Tower gathered enough courage to persuade the drunken constable help the youth get admitted to the RIMS. It was public pressure that forced those bound by duty to save us, take action finally.

Cut to a separate day, when I had gone to a roadside vegetable shop. A Bengali vegetable seller was refusing to accept money for the pumpkin, chilly and tomatoes that he had given to a three-wheeler driver while the latter was insisting on paying for what he had bought.Laxmi Biswas, usually strict in money matters, was refusing to accept money from Saheb Ali. “Ees driver ne meray beta Satish ko kidnapper se chhudayya. Main isse kaise paisa loon?” (This driver rescued my son from a kidnapper’s clutch. How can I take money from him?” Biswas asked emotionally.

Later, I learnt the whole story. Saheb, who ferries passengers from RIMS to the Railway Station, parks his three-wheeler near RIMS. He watches Satish, Laxmi Biswas’s son, playing around his father’s shop. Then one day, Saheb sees a bearded man carrying Satish. Sensing trouble, Saheb caught hold of the man, who turned out to be a kidnapper, rescued Satish and took the
wailing boy to his parents.

Happy to see their son back, Biswas had paid Rs 100 to Saheb. “I have already got my fair for carrying Satish to the Biswases. I am unable understand why Biswas does not accept money for the vegetables?” Saheb looked genuine. His matter of fact and selfless attitude in saving a
child’s life vis-à -vis the greed of the constable, stood in stark contrast in my mind. I got emotional to find a “sentinel” in the true sense in Saheb.

This is not for the first time though. Our colleagues and I invariably spot patrol jeeps carrying drunk policemen on Ranchi streets particularly after sunset.

I appreciate the campaign against the illegal ganja (marijuana) and spurious liquor shops by the senior superintendent of police (Ranchi), Anil Palta, the fire-brand officer. I hope he will act as tough on his subordinates who drink on duty and act like the scoundrels they are supposed to save the citizens from.