The breath analyzer test
It was a mother of all New Year parties which lasted till two in the morning. Rajesh drank in moderation, while Rekha had one too many and was almost tipsy. Pinky had fallen asleep on a corner sofa and the couple decided to leave her there till the party was over. It was not a big party. Hardly fifty guests, all close friends working for the same IT firm. The venue was a beach house. The booze and music were imported. The accent American. And as mentioned earlier, the party the mother of all.
Rajesh too would have let his hair down and had a couple of more but he simply could not. Raghu, his chauffer had taken his annual holiday and as Rajesh would be driving back, he had to be careful; there was no point beginning your new year in a police station on charges of drunken driving. He had thus stopped with his fourth whiskey and as all this was consumed over four hours, believed that he was sober and steady enough to drive back home safely. He would not be able to pass a breath analyzer test, but by looking at his driving, no one would be able to say that he was drunk. Any way he did not feel drunk.
Rekha almost started snoring, the moment her head hit the back of the seat. Rajesh had to gently lay the still asleep Pinky on the back seat and place a pillow for safety. He snapped in the seat belt, waved to his hosts, and drove out slowly and carefully. The roads were emptying though a few motorcycles zipped by shouting “Happy – New – Year!” Rajesh drove extremely carefully.
By the time he spotted the road block, it was too late. The cars ahead of him had slowed down into a serpentine queue and the stream of headlights behind him slowed down too. His hand darted into the dashboard and pulled out the box of chewing gum. His jaws had picked up a rhythm when he had to bring his vehicle to a stop. The cops were about a dozen vehicles ahead of him.
With a fluttering heart, Rajesh realized that his worst fears had come true. It was a random police check for drunken driving. The cops could not be holding traffic and producing jams by stopping each car and testing each driver. It had to thus be a random check. With a sinking heart Rajesh realized that they were checking every third or fourth vehicle. They were exactly eight vehicles away from him. His jaw started moving rhythmically as he looked beside him. The slowing of the vehicle seemed to have woken up Rekha who looked up with sleep laden drunken eyes. A quick peek at the rear view mirror told him that Pinky was fast asleep.
The driver from the vehicle ahead had got out of his car and was blowing into a tube at the other end of which was a Perspex globe. The cop shone his torch into the globe, and nodded his head. The driver got into his car and slowly eased ahead. The cop skipped the next three vehicles and repeated the same procedure with the fourth car ahead of him. Rajesh’s tongue was dry. He could feel his heart thump in his rib cage! I am so stupid. I should have hired taxi! He cursed himself as he saw the cop slowly walk towards him. The sudden cessation of movements seemed to have woken up Pinky too, who sat up groggily rubbing her eyes, which widened in panic as she saw the cop approach the driver seat window.
- Sorry to bother you sir! This is a random check. Could you please blow into this breath analyzer?
- What happens if you do that?
- Well sir, you see these white crystals in the Perspex globe! They turn pink if your blood alcohol levels are above permissible limits!
- But constable, I have not touched a drop of alcohol this evening.
- In that case sir, you have absolutely nothing to worry. You have to just step out and blow into the mouthpiece! You would of course have to spit out your chewing gum. Can’t afford blocked mouth pieces.
- But constable! That is simply impossible. And obnoxious too! I would simply not do it!
- Why sir? What is the problem?
- I just saw you administer the test to two people. You would certainly have administered it to many more too. How do you expect me to keep that to my mouth? I don’t want to catch any diseases. Even the thought is so abhorrent.
- You don’t have to worry about contamination and diseases sir! After each test, we change the mouth tip. Each tip is sterile and comes individually packed. Use and throw. Disposable! So it is a hundred percent safe!
- But constable! There could be something wrong with your machine!
- If there is, it is to your advantage sir! I have tested twenty-one people so far and all have tested below permissible levels. I have not changed the crystals even once. So even if it is erring, it is excusing the drunks. And sir, if you could please hurry up. A big queue waits behind you.
- Well constable, I am still worried. What if your machine works the other way? What if the crystals turn pink if a person who is not drunk blows into it? Or may be chewing gum…..
- Please Sir! You have no choice. You either do it here or we would have to take you to the Police Station and then to the hospital for a blood test.
- Well constable! Tell you what. My six year old daughter in the back. Pinky! Why don’t you ask her to try it once?
- If that pleases you sir. Young lady! Please do me a favor. Keep your mouth here a blow deeply three times. That is wonderful.
The constable then shone his torch into the Perspex globe as his face bore a triumphant look. But they quickly changed to ones of amazement and then complete bewilderment.
- Shit! I cannot believe it. The damned crystals have turned pink! Think of the trouble it would have caused me! What a way to start my new year!
- I am sorry sir! You can go now sir. I think I will stop this random check till I ensure that the breath analyzer is working property. Have a good day. And happy New Year sir!
In two minutes, the car was speeding towards the city. Well not, actually speeding because Rajesh was driving extremely carefully. A peek at the rearview mirror showed that Pinky had curled herself to sleep. His wife too had closed her eyes and tilted her head back. As Rajesh drove ahead carefully, he told himself that if his wife knew about the vodka orange that he had slipped to his daughter just for such an occasion, she would be really mad!
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Father in law
Father in Law
It was about seven am on Sunday morning and I was in the middle of an interesting car chase! No! I was not in Monte-Carlo or Sriperumputhur race tracks. I was not even in the presence of a gaming console or a television, this car chase along the hairpin bends on a treacherous mountain slopes, was happening in the pages of the novel that I was writing. It was natural that I would be extremely irritated at the interruption. It was the block warden who told me that the jailor wanted to see me. In a prison, a jailor’s summons are not something that you could refuse, and thus I donned my T-Shirt and followed the baton waving warden, apprehensive about why I was being summoned.
On reaching the front, instead of the jailors office, I was led to security block four, which surprised me because this was a punishment area. I met the flustered jailor who quickly took me in. The jail doctor too had been summoned and would be there soon. I had been called to see a patient with a dislocated shoulder. He was a punishment prisoner, and in the beating that he had received, dislocated his shoulder. For those of you, who would be wondering about punishment calls inside a prison, which itself is a place for punishment, here is an explanation.
Prisoners who commit crimes within the prison can be punished as per the provisions of the jail manual. The jail manual does not allow the warders to mercilessly beat a prisoner or dislocate his shoulder. A solitary confinement is all that is allowed. But sometimes a prisoner commits such an atrocious crime within the prison, that the wardens loose their temper and in frustration, use the poor prisoner as a punching bag, resulting in an occasional accident like this. A dislocated shoulder is an extremely painful affair for a patient, it is also an easy situation for a qualified orthopedic surgeon like me, and the relief after relocation is so dramatic that the tearful face changes to a smiling one as if by magic. I would only know later that Human Rights judges were expected on a surprise visits and the authorities did not want a dislocated shoulder to distract their attention. If I had not succeeded, the prisoner would have been packed off to an isolation cell and kept hidden from the visitors. Once the shoulder was popped back in place, the crisis was solved. The grateful patient was Raja, who had been caught in his attempt at strangling Hariprasad, an elderly Brahmin fellow who was in for a land fraud case. After the warders left, I asked Raghu why he had attempted to kill the prisoner on the next Kattai. This is his story.
Raghu was a local goonda and rowdy who lived off mamool collected from petty traders, and on extortions. Hariprasad had been recently arrested in the color Xerox fake documents case, in which he had cheated a land buyer of about ten lacks. But by the time Hariprasad was arrested, he had become a pauper. He quickly befriended Raghu, on whom he depended for his beedies, tea tokens, bathing soap and tooth paste. Raghu was getting a little irritated by the shameless scrounging but at that time Hariprasad’s daughter came to visit him. She was young, dark and cute. Hariprasad took Raghu along and performed introductions. Later he told Raghu that he was willing to make him his son- in-law.
Raghu rather liked the girl. The daughter too agreed and started visiting the prison on alternate days. Raghu had about three months to his release and a wedding was scheduled after that. Raghu had his lifetime’s savings of thirty thousand, deposited with a Marwadi Seth. He gave a slip to her so that she could withdraw the money and start buying the mangalsutra and other things for a wedding. But a couple of days after he gave her the slip, she stopped visiting Raghu. Hariprasad gave some excuses about the daughter being sick. Raghu was not too worried because in a month or two, he would be outside; he liked the girl and looked forward to a happy life with her. The girl did not visit him for the whole month.
And then when Raghu went to the visitors room to meet someone else, he saw her. From where he stood, she could not see him. He from his corner to could clearly see and hear. The burly youth beside Hariprasad was an illicit liquor trader who was shouting the grill, the jewelers address! “Get at least a fifteen gram Mangalsutra made. After all, you are going to marry me!” That night, he had twisted a towel around Hariprasad’s neck and if he had not been caught in right time, would have strangled him.
It was about seven am on Sunday morning and I was in the middle of an interesting car chase! No! I was not in Monte-Carlo or Sriperumputhur race tracks. I was not even in the presence of a gaming console or a television, this car chase along the hairpin bends on a treacherous mountain slopes, was happening in the pages of the novel that I was writing. It was natural that I would be extremely irritated at the interruption. It was the block warden who told me that the jailor wanted to see me. In a prison, a jailor’s summons are not something that you could refuse, and thus I donned my T-Shirt and followed the baton waving warden, apprehensive about why I was being summoned.
On reaching the front, instead of the jailors office, I was led to security block four, which surprised me because this was a punishment area. I met the flustered jailor who quickly took me in. The jail doctor too had been summoned and would be there soon. I had been called to see a patient with a dislocated shoulder. He was a punishment prisoner, and in the beating that he had received, dislocated his shoulder. For those of you, who would be wondering about punishment calls inside a prison, which itself is a place for punishment, here is an explanation.
Prisoners who commit crimes within the prison can be punished as per the provisions of the jail manual. The jail manual does not allow the warders to mercilessly beat a prisoner or dislocate his shoulder. A solitary confinement is all that is allowed. But sometimes a prisoner commits such an atrocious crime within the prison, that the wardens loose their temper and in frustration, use the poor prisoner as a punching bag, resulting in an occasional accident like this. A dislocated shoulder is an extremely painful affair for a patient, it is also an easy situation for a qualified orthopedic surgeon like me, and the relief after relocation is so dramatic that the tearful face changes to a smiling one as if by magic. I would only know later that Human Rights judges were expected on a surprise visits and the authorities did not want a dislocated shoulder to distract their attention. If I had not succeeded, the prisoner would have been packed off to an isolation cell and kept hidden from the visitors. Once the shoulder was popped back in place, the crisis was solved. The grateful patient was Raja, who had been caught in his attempt at strangling Hariprasad, an elderly Brahmin fellow who was in for a land fraud case. After the warders left, I asked Raghu why he had attempted to kill the prisoner on the next Kattai. This is his story.
Raghu was a local goonda and rowdy who lived off mamool collected from petty traders, and on extortions. Hariprasad had been recently arrested in the color Xerox fake documents case, in which he had cheated a land buyer of about ten lacks. But by the time Hariprasad was arrested, he had become a pauper. He quickly befriended Raghu, on whom he depended for his beedies, tea tokens, bathing soap and tooth paste. Raghu was getting a little irritated by the shameless scrounging but at that time Hariprasad’s daughter came to visit him. She was young, dark and cute. Hariprasad took Raghu along and performed introductions. Later he told Raghu that he was willing to make him his son- in-law.
Raghu rather liked the girl. The daughter too agreed and started visiting the prison on alternate days. Raghu had about three months to his release and a wedding was scheduled after that. Raghu had his lifetime’s savings of thirty thousand, deposited with a Marwadi Seth. He gave a slip to her so that she could withdraw the money and start buying the mangalsutra and other things for a wedding. But a couple of days after he gave her the slip, she stopped visiting Raghu. Hariprasad gave some excuses about the daughter being sick. Raghu was not too worried because in a month or two, he would be outside; he liked the girl and looked forward to a happy life with her. The girl did not visit him for the whole month.
And then when Raghu went to the visitors room to meet someone else, he saw her. From where he stood, she could not see him. He from his corner to could clearly see and hear. The burly youth beside Hariprasad was an illicit liquor trader who was shouting the grill, the jewelers address! “Get at least a fifteen gram Mangalsutra made. After all, you are going to marry me!” That night, he had twisted a towel around Hariprasad’s neck and if he had not been caught in right time, would have strangled him.
Five Lacs of Rupees
Ashtavakra is a mythological character from Veda Vyasa's Mahabharata. He was a boy with eight bends and a hunch back. Despite his deformed body, he was an intellectual giant and won over Vandi, the court priest in Mythilla who had humiliatingly defeated his father Kagola. I was writing Mahabharata is English and had just written a sentence. A father is probably the most important person, because without him, you and I would be here.
I suddenly heard a voice. “Don’t you think that it is a bit of overgeneralization? Just as the five fingers can’t be all equal; not all fathers are the same too. Mine for example is on out and out bastard!”
I turned around to look at the person, who in one sentence had cast grave doubts at his grand father’s potency, grand mother’s character and father’s origins. It was a young man in his early thirties; fair, smart and well dressed. He looked like a model or an actor. He had been arrested in some case and was an occupant of the special class block.
Even in prison, I was a busy man, and thus did not waste my time in discussing non issues with other prisoners. Nevertheless he was an occupant of my block and introductions were only natural. His name was Rajesh Bajaj and he was a builder. I did not actually ask him, but came to know nevertheless that he had been arrested under section 324,307 and 506 (part two) of the Indian Penal code. In a simple language, these would refer to simple injury, grievous injury and criminal intimidation. He had beaten someone up quite badly. He remained with us only for three days after which he got a bail. I had not asked him, whom he had got into a fight with, and before I could get friendly or familiar with him, he was released.
The next week, we had another occupant to our block. This gentleman in his sixties was grey haired but fair smart and well dressed. His face appeared extremely familiar and I could catch the connection, only when he told me his name Srichand Bajaj. He was a builder too. When I casually looked at his admission card, I found that he had been arrested exactly for the some section as his son had earlier been. He was arrested on a Thursday and thus had to stay in the prison over the weekend. He got his bail eventually on a Tuesday. I could not avoid hearing his story, and it was both stupid and tragic. Srichand and Rajesh were partners in a construction deal. The net profits were about ten lacs. The father decided that he deserved about seven lacs while his son the remaining. Rajesh disagreed and insisted that he be paid five. When Rajesh and his wife had gone to his parent’s house for dinner, what started as a small discussion, ended up in hot words. The daughter-in-law, spoke rudely to the father-in-law who got annoyed and screamed back at her! The son supported his wife; a fracas ensued; and had his hands around the old mans throat, before they could be separated.
Srichand was enraged that his own son could do this to him. He approached the local police station and lodged a compliant consequent to which the son had to spend a few days in the prison. It was not difficult to understand that the father was here due to a counter compliant. During his stay Srichand commented time and again that his son Rajesh was a slimy bastard, blissfully unaware of the fact, that each time he uttered this, he was making himself impotent and sullying his good wife’s character. I will teach that bastard a lesson were his words when he was released on bail.
A few days later I met Rajesh Bajaj at the prison gates, where I was awaiting admission as a court returnee. This time being a repeat offender, he had not been given special class.
“I will not leave that bastard. He may be my father but see how he behaves! The first time he paid twenty thousand to the inspector to get me arrested. This time I heard that it is a lac. But I will be out on bail in a day or two. Even if I have to spend five lacs, I will surely teach him lesson when I go out. I hate that bastard!”
I suddenly heard a voice. “Don’t you think that it is a bit of overgeneralization? Just as the five fingers can’t be all equal; not all fathers are the same too. Mine for example is on out and out bastard!”
I turned around to look at the person, who in one sentence had cast grave doubts at his grand father’s potency, grand mother’s character and father’s origins. It was a young man in his early thirties; fair, smart and well dressed. He looked like a model or an actor. He had been arrested in some case and was an occupant of the special class block.
Even in prison, I was a busy man, and thus did not waste my time in discussing non issues with other prisoners. Nevertheless he was an occupant of my block and introductions were only natural. His name was Rajesh Bajaj and he was a builder. I did not actually ask him, but came to know nevertheless that he had been arrested under section 324,307 and 506 (part two) of the Indian Penal code. In a simple language, these would refer to simple injury, grievous injury and criminal intimidation. He had beaten someone up quite badly. He remained with us only for three days after which he got a bail. I had not asked him, whom he had got into a fight with, and before I could get friendly or familiar with him, he was released.
The next week, we had another occupant to our block. This gentleman in his sixties was grey haired but fair smart and well dressed. His face appeared extremely familiar and I could catch the connection, only when he told me his name Srichand Bajaj. He was a builder too. When I casually looked at his admission card, I found that he had been arrested exactly for the some section as his son had earlier been. He was arrested on a Thursday and thus had to stay in the prison over the weekend. He got his bail eventually on a Tuesday. I could not avoid hearing his story, and it was both stupid and tragic. Srichand and Rajesh were partners in a construction deal. The net profits were about ten lacs. The father decided that he deserved about seven lacs while his son the remaining. Rajesh disagreed and insisted that he be paid five. When Rajesh and his wife had gone to his parent’s house for dinner, what started as a small discussion, ended up in hot words. The daughter-in-law, spoke rudely to the father-in-law who got annoyed and screamed back at her! The son supported his wife; a fracas ensued; and had his hands around the old mans throat, before they could be separated.
Srichand was enraged that his own son could do this to him. He approached the local police station and lodged a compliant consequent to which the son had to spend a few days in the prison. It was not difficult to understand that the father was here due to a counter compliant. During his stay Srichand commented time and again that his son Rajesh was a slimy bastard, blissfully unaware of the fact, that each time he uttered this, he was making himself impotent and sullying his good wife’s character. I will teach that bastard a lesson were his words when he was released on bail.
A few days later I met Rajesh Bajaj at the prison gates, where I was awaiting admission as a court returnee. This time being a repeat offender, he had not been given special class.
“I will not leave that bastard. He may be my father but see how he behaves! The first time he paid twenty thousand to the inspector to get me arrested. This time I heard that it is a lac. But I will be out on bail in a day or two. Even if I have to spend five lacs, I will surely teach him lesson when I go out. I hate that bastard!”
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