When a woman doctor got instant justice
ON a UN mission, I commanded a large contingent of 1,500 troops. The line from Shakespeare’s play Henry IV couldn’t have been more relevant for me: ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown’. The battalion was not a homogenous entity, unlike a normal infantry unit. Instead, it was an integrated battalion group comprising officers and soldiers from various arms and services. The unit also included several women doctors and nursing officers. Considering myself responsible for their safety and security, I arranged separate accommodation for them.
Hardly a month had elapsed when a female doctor approached me with a knotty problem. ‘Sir, I find this piece of paper at the threshold of my room every morning. It has been happening for a few days now,’ she said. I read the contents, which left me shell-shocked. The remarks about the doctor’s looks were just not acceptable in the Army. I set out to catch this predator on the prowl. I didn’t reveal the matter to anyone except my close confidant, the adjutant, to ensure the secrecy of the operation.
My adjutant’s forensic abilities were on display as he tried to match the handwriting samples of several suspects without ruffling any feathers. The culprit seemed to be smarter than us. The note bore a different handwriting every night. During my evening stroll, I noticed an old tank permanently parked in the vicinity of that doctor’s room. Reminded of the Trojan Horse, my plan of action was ready. I called for my most trusted havildar, a burly Sikh soldier. I ordered him to sit huddled in the tank while keeping a strict vigil from the driver’s compartment every night.
Three nights passed without success. On the fourth night, the hawkish eyes of the soldier spotted someone emerging from the bushes in the dark and walking towards the doctor’s room. The havildar silently lifted the cupola of the tank and pounced upon him, catching him by the scruff of the neck. The offender was brought to my room at 3 am on a pitch-dark night. The havildar lit up his face with a torch. I was dumbfounded. He turned out to be the cook of the headquarters company who had joined us from some other battalion. I got him marched up the very next day in full public view during the PT parade and made him apologise to the doctor. I gave him the stringent punishment of 28 days’ rigorous imprisonment and packed him off back home to India, sending out a terse message to all.
Though the psychopaths involved in the Kolkata case deserve to be hanged for their gut-wrenching crime, the wheels of justice must move faster in a time-bound manner to send a chill down the spines of the criminal elements in society.
