Licensed to Kill 13

Licensed to Kill 13

He may not drive flashy cars or flaunt high-tech gadgets like Ian Fleming’s James Bond, but he is surely no less daring, fearless and loyal than the British Secret Service spy licensed to kill.  Padam Singh (name changed), 57, the state forest department guard, whom we accidently stumbled upon on our recent trip to the Chambal Ravines, turned out to be our most compelling and unexpected encounter on our recent trip to Bundhelkhand and Chambal. Padam Singh is licensed to kill upto 13 in line of duty – to protect the wild life of Bihad, a rare privilege, he says, the forest guards owe to Indira Gandhi. He boasts of having invoked this license once thus far, to kill a poacher in Bihad. “The poacher, a local villager, refused to relent even after his repeated warnings. Saale ko goli maar ke nadee mei phenk deyee,” he said in fascinating accent, typical of Bah region. “I will not hesitate to kill upto 13 if anyone comes in way of my duty”, he roared.  He is one of the most feared guards amongst the poachers, someone who refuses to be bribed or influenced.  The brave heart completely bowled us over by his casual yet fierce and loyal sense of duty. “Sarkar ka namak khate hein, uske liye marenge bhee aur marenge bhee.”

The humble guard, with a meager salary, probably owes his iron grit to the childhood spent in Bihad, amidst the most dreaded dacoits like Phoolan Devi, Malkhan Singh and others. “I spent years with gangs of dacoits, eating, singing, dancing and moving around with them,” he stated off, “I have grown up listening to the stories of the legendary dacoits like Sultan Singh.”  On our insistence, Padam Singh agreed to share many fascinating stories about Chambal’s notorious past and the time with Phoolan Devi and Malkhan Singh gang.

The aging guard, whose wrinkled uniform and casual demeanor belies his grit, started off,  “It has been three decades since the larger than life dacoits were killed or surrendered.  We used to witness shooting between police and dacoits every now and then. Unlike the popular belief, dacoits did not move around on horses. They used to move on foot never staying at one place for more a couple of days. They had horses, which were used only to carry weapons and ammunition. Phoolan Devi used to move from M.P to Rajasthan never staying in one single place. She used to pitch tents at night. Whenever she needed grocery or other things, she used to send a list to the nearby village and it would be happily and dutifully delivered to the place directed.” He continued to narrate,  ”the rule was that at night the members of the gang were all disarmed and scattered in group to keep watch. They never slept in a group. All the arms were kept in custody of the mukhiya so that no traitor could attack the leader taking advantage of night.”  He said most films made on dacoits were far from reality.  The film on Phoolan Devi is the only one, which could be stated to be somewhat closer to reality, he declared.

“They were not dacoits in real sense. They looted the rich but distributed the spoils amongst the poor and needy. They fought suppression and injustice. They distributed money for holding weddings in poor households and extended financial help to the needy. The villagers still remember them with respect. Phoolan Devi was the most feared dacoit. If she would have been alive she would have been a popular leader of the down trodden today.”  A couple of boatmen standing around nodded their heads in agreement. “They had strong principles and unwritten rules which were followed religiously”, Padam Singh claimed.  He recounted an episode how a group of small time thieves looted a young bride traveling to her husband’s village after her marriage, of her jewellery claiming they were members of Malkhan Singh gang. The girl returned to her parent’s house refusing to go to her husband’s village without the jewelry. When Malkhan Singh learnt of it he presented the girl with jewelry and sent his men after the gang of thieves.” Pointing to the white structure on the nearby hilltop, he said, “Malkhan Singh built this small temple. They were not dacoits in true sense. They were rebels fighting for injustice.”

The man had an amazing sense of authority around him and an amazing sense of humour. Pointing to the three newborn cubs playing near his tent, he said I am going to name them: Daroga, Patwari and Vakil. “Kotwali aur kachehri dono yaheen hogi.” He laughed his heart out.  His laughter still echoes in our memory, pleasantly.

Padam Singh has three years of service left before he retires and has option to take a posting near his native village. But he refuses. “Don’t want to end up killing someone from my village where I and my family have rest of life to spend,” he said deep in thought looking at the solitary tent pitched near Chambal river which is his home for the next three years. 

I saluted him.