That man in the Dumka photograph

Published here.
Dumka, April 25

There is someone lying bleeding in the seat before him, possibly dead. Then, there is the darkness - of the night, soot from an IED blast, that extends to his bloodied face. Yet, the middle-aged man in the window seat of that bus leans across and holds his stare, pointing his finger, as if to make a poignant point.

Like the moment that made US Marine James Blake Miller the Marlboro Man of his generation, this was Assistant Sub Inspector Hiralal Pal in Dumka, trying to make sense of a world where EVM machines are blown to smithereens.

Through Thursday night, Hiralal was in shock. His family from Bihar's Ara could not reach Dumka's Sadar Hospital, so he was attended to by colleagues in the district police, who managed to get a table fan placed near him. No one bothered to wipe down the soot on him and when Hiralal managed to sit up to drink water once in a while, his eyes bright against the darkness of his face, looked perplexed throughout.

Maybe it had to do with the way in which he escaped a carnage when alleged Maoists selectively went after those in uniform. "I was unconscious after the blast. Some Maoists came near me - they were only shooting at policemen - but someone lying next to me told them I was already dead," he told this reporter at around 12.30 in the night. Unlike Subodh Kumar Mistry, his neighbour at the hospital and a headmaster from Siriyahat  - who told his story to anyone whom leaned across his bed, Hiralal simply did not have the energy to go on. This reporter was at the hospital till 1.10 in the night. Later, at some point in the night, he was referred to Dhanbad's PMCH.

Hiralal was promoted from being a constable ahead of the elections. "Pal is quite fine; his family is on the way to Dhanbad. He is quite senior; must be around 55 years," said a policeman at the Mufassil police station, where he is posted.

"I heard about the incident at 4.40 in the evening. I was on poll duty myself and knew Pal was supposed to be in a booth in the area. I tried calling him to get the news, but calls were not going through," said the policeman.

"He had given me a missed call at around two in the afternoon. When I called back, he said he had merely wanted to talk. So, we talked," said another colleague at the police station.

Pal, a policeman who gives missed calls to people so that he could merely have a conversation, might just be pointing fingers in the photo. At people who thought it was appropriate to send a 55-year-old, less-than-ideally trained policeman to a known Maoist area, knowing fully well that given the option of a bus over walking in the Santhal Pargana summer, he would take it.