Police in India can be intimidating, their lathi something to fear.
Perhaps, for many better-off kids today, the good life is all about video games, digital learning and a yearning for social media. Aspiration might mean becoming an influencer, and freedom, unrestricted access to the internet. For nine-year-old Tarun, though — like so many others before him — his cycle was a talisman. It meant more time: Instead of changing two buses and wasting over half an hour to get to his school from Aryapura in North Delhi, he could confidently zip through lanes and roads in 15 minutes. It was also a desire fulfilled: A hand-me-down, gifted to him by a friend when he saw Tarun’s fascination with the bike. Then, last week, it was stolen. His parents, both factory workers, couldn’t afford a replacement.
A child’s first cycle is a curious thing, a bit like the first car for gearheads. It is something to own, yes. But it is also a means to a wider world, the first taste of freedom and empowerment. It’s also something to take care of, and be responsible for. Perhaps that’s why, at a loss a week after the theft, Tarun walked up to a policeman and told him of his suffering.
Police in India can be intimidating, their lathi something to fear. And for all the talk of “community policing”, the khaki vardi can be something to fear for the poor. The police, for their part, work in a system that gives them little autonomy, training and resources to address the major crimes and many injustices they witness on a daily basis. Ram Manohar Mishra, SHO of the Subzi Mandi police station, though, saw something he could fix and immediately bought Tarun a new cycle. Tarun, now, will not be late for school. For him, the uniform will mean benevolence and decency. And for Sub-Inspector Mishra and his colleagues, the sight of a boy on his bicycle can be the talisman that represents a job well done.
