WHAT WENT
WRONG – 5
I am Peter Camus, aged 70 years, from Germany, and now permanently settled in India. I first
came to India around 19 years ago as a tourist. Having lead a purposeful and comfortable life
back home, I decided to stay in India to help the poor. I am a social and health worker,
though the destitutes who I offer medication call me a Doctor. I have a roadside open-air
clinic at a posh central market in the capital city, with a chair and two bags of medicines as
infrastructure. I do not charge any fee as my patients are roadside beggars, lepers and drug
addicts. The pension I receive monthly from Berlin
funds my living, my clinic and the medicines.
Son of an important political dignitary in my country, I had not had any encounters with pain
and sufferings till I saw a few scabies-ridden humans writhing in pain. All this was happening
in one of the most prominent markets of the city in front of many by passers. This incident
made me decide to stay back and look after those, who no one cared for.
It was not that this was my first visit to India. My liking for thiscountry had brought me
here a couple of times and I had faced problems already earlier on.
It all began when during our first such visit, my wife and myself decided to help local
talents in India and adopted a boy and a girl and sponsored their studies. They were later
brought to Germany for higher education. On our next such trip two brothers Ramesh and Suresh
were identified by us. We wanted to do everything possible for these boys. They were very
bright and wanted to study further. Their mother had expired and they had an ailing father to
look after. In fact we adopted the entire family and started funding their schooling and other
expenses. Shortly thereafter Suresh was called to Germany and Ramesh remained in India
in a flat that I bought for him and his father.
It was in my next trip to India that I decided not to return home. I had seen agony on the
streets of Delhi and I decided to stay with Ramesh. My nightmare began then.
I had to run away from the house soon after. Ramesh was not the good son, I always thought he
was. He had siphoned off all the money I had brought from Germany to be able to support my
son, and myself and now there was a potential threat to my life. I had no one to put the blame
upon and accepted it as destiny. Having little knowledge of the native language, law and the
customs I could not complain to anyone too. Moreover, I never wanted to.
I had made up my mind to stay on and help the needy on the streets. This determination further
strengthened itself when these roadside dwellers started gaining confidence in me and started
to flock around me with expectations. It was difficult for me initially as even my command
over the English language was not good, but we started communicating nevertheless.
I shifted to the outskirts of the city and asked my family to send me some more money. I had
by now a set of other children who had started living with me. One of them was Krishna, a very
sweet little boy of 14 years who used to always be with me. His affection for me was not like
by Sunder, a part time robber who also used to hang around me in my house. I knew he used to
steal money and liquor from my house and I was making efforts to reform him. Krishna always
objected to his presence in the house but I pacified him.
I had by now also set up my small clinic and the destitutes had started benefiting from my
simple medication, laced with love and care, which worked wonders. Medication was very simple,
I had to counter ignorance amongst the patients. Of course my list of patients included drug
addicts, peddlars and petty criminals but they were the problems of the authorities. My
responsibility was to cure them and counsel them to change themselves. Some listened, some did
not.
One evening, when I reached back home, to my horror, I found my dear son Krishna lying in a
pool of blood, dead. I immediately knew who the murderer was. The police was informed and they
came. I told them everything I could and even the address of Sunder. Nothing happened. I was
made to flee the city as the police started harassing the kids and me. They took away lot of
valuables from my house and started giving us trouble in our day to day life.
One evening I found my household goods thrown outside and my ten kids sitting on the road.
Apparently, my close friend, a prominent Doctor, running many Nursing Homes had influenced my
Landlord and planned my ouster. This Doctor friend still owes me some money and he and his son
have inflicted more injuries on me subsequently.
We all shifted back to Delhi and took an apartment in a Group Housing Society. My activities
and the fact that poor children stayed with me was suspected and was not taken to kindly by
the neighbours. Their complaints with the local police brought me their wrath and during the
period I stayed there, I was lynched six times and stripped once at the police station. They
had started accusing me of being a spy, a child lifter and what not. My power and water
connection was got disconnected and no maid or sweeper was allowed to come to my house. Every
evening I found my door broke open. In fact, 14 special breed dogs who I had with me were
stolen. These dogs are very expensive to procure and must have fetched a handsome amount for
the robber. My determination had firmed up by now and I was not going become weak. I continued
with my life though due to the hardships I was facing courtesy the local police, I had to run
away from here too and settled for a small hotel room in the city.
I decided to see the supreme authority in India and went to meet the Prime Minister. The staff
did not allow me to do so. On my persistence, an officer came and informed me that the P.M.
would see me the next day and they offered me a lift back to my hotel. I was brought to a
Police station instead and detained there for seven days. All the Investigating agencies of
the country were there to question me. However the treatment met out to me was cordial except
for one officer who boxed me down. But I had got used to it.
Upon my release, when I reached the hotel I found that all my valuable stuff was stolen. My
deposit too was forfeited and my insistence earned me blows on my face. I went to complain to
the local police and was knocked down on the corridor in response to my request for help.
I had to stay on the footpath outside the Hanuman Mandir for seven – eight months along
with my sons and patients. All this did not stop the functioning of my free clinic.
Shortly thereafter, I went to the local police station to enquire about the status of one of
my patient who had been arrested on drug peddling charges. When I argued with the police that
he was innocent, I was threatened with extradition. They came in the night and one constable
who I know very well now, thrushed a bamboo in my mouth and through my rectum. He broke my
ankle and I was in shambles. When I called up my family, they thought I was drunk.
After some time, the SHO approached me and offered smoking the pipe of peace. He advised me to
accompany him to the courts where he could arrange a government grant of Rs. 10,000 per month
for my clinic. I agreed and due to the fact that I could not understand the language, I was
packed off to Tihar jail. I lead police free life for three months before the court detected
that the police could not substantiate the accusations leveled against me and ordered my
release. The detention period was horrible for me. I had lost so much of weight that upon my
release some of the tourists who saw me, asked my family to take me away otherwise I would
die. I stayed on.
I started to shiver the moment I saw anyone in uniform or hear a police siren. My family
offered me a one way ticket back home but I refused upon seeing the anxiety in the eyes of my
boys.
I was again cheated of Rs. 5,000 by some one. I could not muster up the courage of approaching
the police again. Instead, on instinct, I dialed the Home Minister’s residence and lady
luck smiled for once. The H.M. picked up the phone himself and gave me a patient hearing and
assured help in an hour. It reached me in 14 minutes. Police came. I got my money back within
an hour.
I decided to confront my Doctor friend again as I needed money and went to see him with
another child Sunil. I was beaten brutally by my friend and his son and when Sunil tried to
resist, he too got hit. Sunil was a sensitive boy and very ambitious. He told me that he could
not take this incident lightly and was depressed. Two days later we found his body on the rail
tracks, run over by a train, dead.
My tale goes on. My experience with the police has been traumatic and there are many more such
incidents. In fact, I have had close encounters with many of the city’s police stations.
I have found them to be drunk on duty, irresponsible, insensitive, corrupt and devoid of moral
values.
I am still living on, helping my "poors". I can’t leave India. My love for the
country is too deep rooted for me to leave.
What Went Wrong
All this agony was preventable, provided the police performs with integrity and
professionalism. |
