SINCE police encounter deaths are making news again, I decided to visit a police station for an informal chat, “Whenever we do something right we are criticized!” said the police chief, offering me my mandatory plate of batata vada and hot Telangana chutney from the police canteen downstairs, “we have now perfected the art of the encounter and the media should be appreciative!”
I ate my batata vada in silence. “Have you noticed that most of our policemen get only small injuries after a killing?” he asked suddenly as I bit into a chilly and looked at him with tears in my eyes. “This is because we do not want to waste tax payers money with hospital expenses!”
I nodded and reached out for the glass of water to take away the effects of the chilly. “Every encounter is well planned,” said the chief, “nothing is left to chance, we see to it that it takes place in a lonely area where no public will get hurt and either early in the morning or nightfall, when the public are at safe at home!” I reached for the second batata vada.
“Our men have become so good that all their victims have bullets in their back! Have you ever wondered why this is so?” I shook my head affirmatively, “You have wondered?” I shook my head, this time a little less vigorously. “You dare wonder about such things?” I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders as if it didn’t matter. “Good,” said the police chief, “these things are not worth pondering upon!” I smiled at him and reached out for another sip of water.
“Are you afraid of something?” asked the police chief. I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders and smiled nervously. “People who drink too much water are hiding something,” he said gruffly. I pointed to my mouth and gestured that I had swallowed a chilly.
“You carry drugs in your mouth?” asked the chief. I shook my head and reached for the water. “We want some good reports about encounters,” said the chief. I nodded in agreement. “Something tells me you will not write a good report about us,” said the chief suddenly looking at someone in the next room, then shouting, “Run!”
“What?” I asked. “Run,” shouted the chief. I looked down but refused to get up. “Run,” said the chief again as a gunman appeared at the door. I nodded, slowly got up from my chair and walked backwards to the door. The encounter specialist looked at his chief and shook his head. “You are cheating him of another encounter,” shouted the chief angrily, “he says he has never shot anyone in the front, he doesn’t know which part of you to fire at!” I managed to walk backwards all the way to civilization to write this good report..!
