(The Times of India, July 6, 2008)
Copping out
by Jyoti Punwani
One of the first cops to attest in the special courts set up to try the 1992-'93 Mumbai riot cases was a pot-bellied wonder whose eyes bulged more and more with every question. When it was all over, he simply flopped into the nearest chair, mopped his brow, spread his legs wide and let out a happy sigh.
Deposing on events that took place 15 years ago is undoubtedly tough, but these policemen, the main witnesses in the cases, get to read their statements before stepping into the box. Most of the questions are asked by the public prosecutor (PP), who practically reads out their statements to them. It's not even as if the special courts are trying murder cases; most are just rioting offences.
Yet, the moment they step into the witness-box, a nameless terror seizes the uniformed men. Like schoolboys put to the rack by an intimidating headmaster, they look down, mumble, or are just struck dumb. One looked so petrified that magistrate S S Sharma had to reassure him the question was harmless. Another sucked in his lips, stared straight ahead, blinked, opened his mouth as if to answer, then closed it without saying anything. After he'd gone through this routine thrice, magistrate R C Bapat Sarkar intervened: "You've been asked this question ten times already, for the last time now—what else did the mob do apart from throwing stones?" This time, the policemen put his tongue out, as if lost in thought. The courtroom waited with bated breath. Alas, not a word emerged from his lips.
Ask the next question, the magistrate told the PP. "What did you do on seeing the stone-throwing mob?' A miserable silence followed. Finally, swallowing hard, he ventured, "We did lathi charge etc."
This was a cop who had fired two rounds at the mob. He had a fever, he told the magistrate when asked if he was finding the going difficult. Allowed to leave immediately, he was spotted half an hour later happily roaming the premises.
Another, himself the complainant in the case, kept repeating "I don't remember" even as the PP read out his complaint to him. "What's your problem?" she asked angrily. Turned out he'd had an angioplasty after he retired. The man seemed likely to faint, and was solicitously requested to go. Fifteen minutes later, he strode in briskly—to collect the umbrella he'd forgotten.
Asked what slogans two mobs confronting each other were shouting, one cop answered, " 'Mandir wahin banayenge' and 'Babri Masjid tod do'." What about the other mob, asked the PP. " 'Saugandh Ram ki khaaten hain' and 'Garv se kaho hum Hindu hain'," answered the clueless cop. You begin to wonder, maybe the stock defence of all the accused is true, maybe they really were all picked up from their homes and framed.
That said, these dumbbells are any day preferable to the expressionless wonders who answer with a smooth "I cannot say" in the box, and outside the court give vent to their real feelings. One such specimen was actually hugged by an accused he'd "failed" to identify during the hearing. Another laughed uproariously during the lunch break with a Sena lawyer, recalling the questions put to him by the latter: "How many offenders have you arrested? More than 100? Do you remember all their faces?"
Identifying the accused in court is perhaps the most crucial part of these cops' testimony. Here they are helped mostly covertly, but often openly, by having at least the main accused pointed out before their deposition begins. After 15 years, can they be expected to remember faces, is the justification. In a case that had 30 accused, one cop asserted confidently that all those seated on the bench were the accused, except one. Among those he 'identified' as criminals were a plainclothes cop and a lawyer's assistant.
At the other end are those who refuse to get into this territory at all. The State Reserve Police Force men, for example, just don't want to get involved. They refuse to even take a copy of their own statement when asked to read it by the defence lawyer. One almost fell off the box as he inched backwards, recoiling from the statement.
Three SRPF men, who were posted at Bandra during the riots, said, looking steadfastly downwards, that they could not identify anyone in court because the incident had taken place at night. Infuriated, the PP asked, "Weren't there any street lights on? You haven't even looked at the accused!" Unhappily, the first man looked up, only to make a pleasant discovery—there was only one accused. Yes, he is the one, he said. The second tried to escape the PP's wrath by stammering, "Maybe I saw someone like him..." The third pleaded: "It's been 15 years, we haven't been back there..." Clenching her teeth, the PP asked that he be declared hostile.
The only officers who have conducted themselves with dignity, even given it back to the defence lawyer, have been those who retired at senior positions. Perhaps a lifetime of court appearances helped... or maybe the freedom that retirement brings.
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