Behind the Chandrasekharan Nair Stadium in Palayam, there used to be several police quarters. Many of my childhood friends were children of state police officers. I used to visit them every evening. Near those houses stood the multi-storied CRPF camp, whose main headquarters was at Pallippuram, Kaniyapuram. One day, while walking towards the quarters, a CRPF sentry on duty stopped me and shouted, "Aap sab kahan ja rahe ho? Yeh aapke liye public road nahi hai" (Where are you all going? This is not a public road for you to walk on). I realized he had been watching me for some time.
I walked faster without looking back, but he sent another personnel to bring me to him. The officer told me in Hindi, "The Quartermaster Sahib is watching. Come with me for your own good." I had heard that a Quartermaster was powerful enough to initiate a 'Court Martial.' An invitation from him was an order. Fearing trouble, I followed him silently.
I was led into a large compound with manicured gardens and white-painted brick pathways. Outside a room on the ground floor of a four-story building, a board read: Thomas George, DIG, Quartermaster. There was a profound silence and discipline. Having visited the Pangode Military Barracks many times, this atmosphere didn't intimidate me. I recalled the 'Garrison' theater at Pangode, where high-ranking officers and their families watched Hindi movies. After the late-night shows, my friends and I would walk back to Palayam via Vazhuthacaud and Bakery Junction without any fear, as everyone knew my family and my uncle.
The officer who took me in signaled me to enter. I greeted the handsome man in the revolving chair with a "Good Morning, Sir." After asking about my name, education, and my father’s profession in English, he suddenly asked me in Malayalam: "Are you interested in joining the CRPF?" I was stunned, wondering if he was joking. I said "Yes," but mentioned I needed my parents' permission. He encouraged me to go and ask them immediately.
My parents were initially hesitant, thinking a police job was beneath our status, but eventually, they agreed. I rushed back to the Quartermaster. He spoke with the Commandant and initiated the recruitment process. He truly took a liking to me. I still remember him personally showing me how to high jump and sending a policeman to run with me at the stadium to improve my speed. He was a man with a heart of gold.
However, when the battalion received orders to move to Jammu & Kashmir, my father strongly opposed it. I suffered from chronic sinus issues and severe allergies to cold weather, which would debilitate me for weeks. Consequently, I had to resign. In those days, a police job was often seen as a last resort, involving menial tasks for superiors. The CRPF also had a different reputation then, unlike the professional force it is today.
As I watch the CRPF personnel currently stationed at Sanskrit College for protest control, I see they are all from other states. My memories drift back to those days. I offer them my best wishes. But knowing how sternly the paramilitary handles situations, I should be careful not to get caught in a lathi charge myself! Palayam Nizar Ahamed Copyrights alrights reserved
(Written on Sunday, August 11, 2013)
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