Bull Dozer

Posts Tagged ‘time’

First off, I’m not planning to steal a bulldozer. I can’t drive.

What is the punishment for stealing a bulldozer, provided one never has the chance to run over something with it? I assume it would be worse than stealing a car and would require jail time. But how much?

 

THE PUNISHMENT

 In 1995 I was posted at a place called Tissa in Arunachal Pradesh. It was located in a central place from where two routes bifurcated to two different directions both about 60 to 70 Kms to the farthest point from there. There were no proper pucca(permanent) bituminous roads as they were freshly cut for paving  them  later on. When a fresh cut is made with a heavy earth moving machinery like the bulldozer it is generally kept idle and subjected to weather in the open for 2 to 3 years so that the soil settles down on its own and the base compacts to its maximum limit to avoid any differential settlement later on which may otherwise result into sinking of soil or lead to cracks. As a result of these uneven roads the speed limit could not be attained more than 15 to 20 Kmph in the vehicle which as a result increased the travel time to about 3 to 4 hours one way. One road led to a place called Wakka and the other to Pongchau.

  Midway to Wakka was a place called  Nginu where we had a detachment for meeting our administrative requirements like fuel, water, food etc with some stores required for construction of roads : Bitumen drums, tools etc. This detachment had one in charge with about 6 to 7 men to look after it. They were completely secluded from us and higher Headquarters. We were mainly on communication with radio sets which if would become faulty would render us to be totally out of contact. In order to deal with such situations with  the resources crunch we followed a Phantom style of communication of a ‘Tom Tom’ runner system, where a labourer would be given a leather bag who would slung it across on one of his shoulders with the necessary document /paper containing message in it and was thereafter asked to go  running to the next detachment where another person waiting for him  would carry on this  relay race till such time the message finally reached its terminal destination. This would take 6 to 7 hours. When the det incharge wanted to relax and not be disturbed he would switch off the radio set or spoil it by short circuiting and sleep to glory . Since all the time round the clock vigil could not be maintained so they had adequate opportunities and freedom for doing any such mischievous work at times.

 The area was very remote and people were years beyond civilisation of modern India. So much so that they  had not yet started to wear clothes even. All a male person wore was a small cloth around his lower body just bare enough to cover his genitals (like a langoti) in the form of a belt inside which he would  tuck in his Dah (about one and a half feet steel blade fixed over a two feet long bamboo shoot) with which he used to do all his work right from making smallest art pieces of wood to hunting of wild animals. They belonged to the traditional ‘Wanchu’ hunter tribes. Their rules and regulations were very strict and everyone worshipped their village chieftain, called the Raja like a God. He could even order the harshest of the punishments to those found guilty: even death by execution as there was no one to check them.  Although the area was divided beat wise by  the police but neither did any policemen visit such a remote location nor they wanted to interfere in the village administration as they were themselves from those places and secondly they  had a resource crunch with no vehicles to ply on those roads. If the vehicle went off road their then you are on the mercy of God because no civil aid was available. In case of very essential cases only they intervened and that also after taking help from the local army, border roads and Assam rifles units. So jungle rule prevailed but one  could rely on their system as was speedy, fair and just unlike our modern system being followed. If you had left your wallet or dropped some of your document while travelling and go searching it back even after couple of days you would still find it there unless some wild animal had lifted it up.

 The females also sailed in the same boat as they wore what the men wore with no exception to cover upper part of their body except the local jewellery made of bones and bamboos. Their breasts were visible as were not covered and it looked very odd especially to the newcomer in the area seeing them running with their dangling organs . When we visited the civilised area in between after a considerable gap and see men and women in clothes we started feeling out of place as had got used to see the half naked bodies. They were however dirty as hardly took bath on daily basis and accumulated black dust could be seen clearly on their body. They covered themselves with the hanging conical basket on their backs in which they carried 3 to 4 pieces of huge bamboo shoots which were hollow and hence used for carriage of water inside it. One bamboo shoot had enough capacity to hold about two to three buckets of water inside it. The womenfolk were very hardworking like ants and did the major household work . The men were lazy: they would only do hunting and have drugs all day.  The men were basically warriors and every old one of them had killed at least two to three other men of opposite tribes during their fights and after that got those many lines tattooed on to their chests in the form of V as a lady wears a necklace. These were considered their medals of bravery and was clearly visible to everyone. They (both men and women) would also cover their teeth with a thick black shiny coating in order to preserve their teeth  which would thus remain  no longer  of white colour. The younger generation who were out in the cities however were devoid of this due to being slightly educated. 

 They would make the house of Raja in one day if required. The manpower for such a work would involve each and every person of the village in hundreds who would work together in an organised way,  cut a huge tree trunk, place it as the pillar at various places equidistant from each other in a single line and there after covered the roof with thatch to finish the work by evening. The size of the hut used to be not less than 70 to 80 m in length and about 7 to 8 metres in width . It had lot many no of rooms inside it like a steamer ship where there would be place for  all the queens as a Raja had about 15 to 20 wives with a room for each. There would also be a place for the cattle in the same hut  and a big room at the entrance with a fire burning in the centre around which all the queens and the men with Raja sitting on a special elevated place with his guests used to sit . A big animal properly skinned down would  always be hanging over the fire like a barbeque which was continuously smoked to keep in ready to eat state  and well maintained hygienically. All the side walls contained huge bison (Mithun) skulls hung systematically all around. The men and their ladies would eat and drink their special wine called ‘Lopani’ (You would vomit if you smelled it) of white colour made of rice and what not. They also had a peculiar tradition.  All the Young boys and girls of the complete village used to sleep in a separate long hut made for them and after the girl would get pregnant they would get married to the so called illegal Father in our language.

We had to employ local casual paid labour for our work so the right source to ask for them would be this Raja only who would sent a team of his men whom we would enrol for work like clearing of landslides, road and bridge construction etc. It was his local law that one person of Raja would always be kept on the rolls whether he works or not but in return of that he would help us in all the administrative and management matters related with the labour force  and provide the necessary firewood for our use which was thus justified so no one tempered with that old tradition.

 

  At Nginu there was one person named Ashok who although was good by nature in general but would remain good only in presence of his detachment in charge and if he got the opportunity of being alone he would make best use of it to the best of his advantage whether the action would be legal or not. The men were away from family so longed for the leave to go home. Although all attempts were made as per the policy guidelines in vogue to send every person on leave after every 5 months  in order to keep them away from  frustration and be happy but since there was no other source of entertainment in the middle of the jungle except for playing carom and cards in the spare time for recreation or to watch TV for a short period of time with the help of the truck battery since there were  no dish TV’s in 1995. The men spent their time after the days work in refreshing themselves after bathing with these facilities and in the night with a drink or so before going  off to sleep.

 Ashok had a habit of watching  the local ladies passing in front of our roadside detachment (det) and felt uncomfortable starring at their naked body parts hence seeked the first opportunity to contact them. He would at once come and start sweeping the det area in front of the gate from where these girls passed in order to show to others that he is working and at the same time would make use of this  opportunity to watch them more closely. The girls would simply laugh at him and would run away in shyness as  a result.

One day when the det Incharge was away for some work, Ashok happened to be alone with some two old personnel in the det. When the girls passed carrying water on their backs Ashok made some remark and beckoned one of them to come near him, seeing this  the girls laughed and one of them beckoned him in reciprocation just for fun sake. Seeing her respond he approached her by going closer to her and all of a sudden embraced her in due to the momentarily created emotional outburst the action in which he also fondled with her breasts. As a result of this sudden unexpected action she got annoyed and shouted so all her companions joined her and they all hit him hard on his head and pushed him back  and  throwing away all their stuff  they ran  away from there. Ashok quietly came back, had  a drink and lied down to sleep. After about half an hour there was a village crowd which quietly besieged the det from all around and their head came to the gate shouting for the det in charge. Since he was not there so the next old man went out to inquire the matter and when he came to know what they had come for he was shocked. They did not listen to him and threatened him that they would take him instead if the right person is not handed over to them. So fearing this he called everyone out. As they saw a small skirmish on his head they asked him to confirm what he had done to their village girl. He in fact rather than apologising blamed the girls for provoking his sentiments and being hit by them in a group. This was enough to convince and identify the culprit. So without saying a word they tied him with jute ropes  and forcibly took him in the village to their Raja. The old man who was officiating as the det in charge could do nothing but request them to pardon him but they did not pay any attention to his pleadings. Unfortunately the radio sets were also down and there was no labour available for carrying the Tom Tom phantom message even although  one of them was present  but he refused to go fearing the Raja as it was now a matter of the prestige of the village. The old man thus had no choice and started to walk down himself for 12 kms leaving just one other old personnel  behind to look after the det. He started off  in the night all alone by himself to Tissa with no weapon but just a lathi ( a big stick)and a torch in his hand to deal with the wild animal. While he was on his way about 4kms from Nginu towards Tissa he met three  labourers  enroute who were coming towards Nginu itself  but were not knowing about the incident  so he immediately told two of them to return, take the written message and handover to the officer at Tissa. He explained the gravity of the situation to those runners by mentioning it to them that the message is very urgent as someone is lying unconscious in the det who needs immediate medical and police help. Hearing this both the runners immediately started back towards Tissa for handing over the message to me late in the  night. The old man returned to the det with one labourer. On the way when he narrated the actual incident to the labour accompanying  him he got petrified with fear as he told him that in such cases the Raja orders killing by Dahs (long blade) and if something is not done soon he may be killed by next evening as the time between verdict and execution is not wasted after the verdict is given.

 Someone knocked my door at about 11pm in the night and I got up to see who it was and after opening the door I saw a TomTom message labourer who told me what had happened as the officiating det incharge had briefed him and he handed over the message slip to me . After going through it I understood the whole situation which  was amply clarified in it. Immediately I went to my friend cum colleague Kashmir singh, discussed the matter and we chalked out a plan .  He gave me a  radioset and I told him that I am leaving right now and if need arises I will inform him over the radio set whether police help is required or not as if the matter could be sorted out at our level itself it was no use advertising the issue as would bring bad name to the unit and would reflect poorly on the management of man on our part. So I told my wife that I would be back as soon as the matter is sorted out and I can be late also so not to worry about anything.  I took my essential stuff, called the driver and along with the Tom Tom labour started off in the vehicle to Nginu. I reached there within an hour and inquired about the latest situation. The incharge there was petrified with fear but was stable. He was worried that if anyone would have harmed Ashok by now .The situation soon became amply clear to me and it was our man’s fault but the matter had to be dealt  in such a way that he is able to come back in one single piece somehow as otherwise the things would become serious. The labour knew the way to Raja’s house which was about 4 kms from our det by walking as the vehicle could not be taken there being a hilly foot track. So I along with two labourers and one detachment in charge started off in the middle of the night to Raja’s house. We travelled through the the forest, the cricket noise was at the  full,  jackals howling could be heard from the distance and only whispering winds passing past the tree branches could be heard. One labour with his Dah was in the front followed by me, the det incharge and the second labour in the rear which comprised  the complete patrol. The weather was cold so we were wearing our jackets but the labourers were wearing nothing except their loin cloth. While on the way I kept discussing about the Raja’s habits and his likes and dislikes as it all depended on him to diffuse the situation. He was fond of rum I already  knew so had carried three bottles in my bag held with the labour following me. I also had carried some cash which although was of no use as it did not carry any meaning for him since he would convert it into liquor immediately as I had seen him during the paydays. We reached at around 3 o clock in the morning. The Raja was in his hut sleeping near his fireplace with two of his queens by his side over a bamboo mat. On knocking by one of the labourer he spoke loudly in his language to come in . We all entered and he got up and shook hands with me welcoming in hindi which he knew a little bit,

“Aoo Sahib baitho”(Come sir please sit down)

 he  said pointing towards the wooden stool,

“The det incharge told me that one of our men had misbehaved with one of the girls of your village after which your men had brought him here as a captive” I  started off.

“Yes Sir he is locked in the cellar where we keep our cattle fodder and his punishment will be decided tomorrow in the morning after those girls come and give their statements in front of everyone”, the Raja said.

There were few more hours for the outbreak of dawn and the place was stinking inside except for the fireplace where one could have a feel of the smell of the burning wood which subsided the bad smell as a result and was cosy so I pulled the stool with my hands near the fire and sat down to enjoy its warmth in the cold. Later the Raja told me to relax on his coir mat bed to which  I also did not hesitate to so just lied down as was feeling sleepy. I also did not wanted that he should get annoyed  further as the ball was in his court. It was about 4 am in the morning, the fire was burning both outside and inside me  as I feared  any stupid decision from his side would put me also in trouble if some harm comes to Ashok. While lying down near him I casually asked him ,

“What decision is expected in such cases  if proved guilty?”

The Raja said,” Had he been one of his own men it was death for sure”

“And if he is an outsider?”I asked

Then as the men decide which may also be death or amputation of some body parts like fingers, limbs, ears, nose etc” he replied.

“But are you sure he committed the act alleged on him?” I asked again.

“That is the thing on which everything depends but we believe our girls” Raja continued.

“What if they tell lies and thus result into punishment to the innocent?” I tried to probe further.

“No we do not go by that, their statement is  considered to be final as there were three girls along with the girl affected” The Raja clarified.

“Will you have a drink at this time ?”I asked him to divert from the issue for the time being to relax and to poke on to his weakness.

Smilingly he said ,”I don’t mind as your Rum is very tasty as usual”

 I  asked one of the helper along with me to take out the bottle and pour two large neat pegs without water for the Raja as they did not use water with the drink. Soon he had two pegs in his bamboo glass and sipped it cheerfully.

“What about you ? “he asked me

“As you know I don’t drink at all since I do not like its taste, I’ll have plain water with lemon” I said. 

My helper was already ready with the lemon drink by then which he handed over to me from my back side.

“Can something be done for the alleged culprit to free him after giving a minor punishment for the sake of our friendship of two years here?” i asked the raja with a hope.

“Minor?” he said loudly

“Ok major,” but I have a request.”I said emphatically.

“What?”He asked with a deadpan face.

“I’ll punish him if you permit in front of all of you but you should  not do any physical harm to him as in turn I will be punished from the authorities for not reporting the matter to the police or the army and you know the procedures there are very lengthy which would infact be a more harassment to me rather than the culprit himself” I tried to convince the Raja with my restraints.

“Sahib itna fikar mat karo usko punishment lene do usne galat kaam kiya hai”(Sir do not worry so much let him be punished as he has done a wrong act)

 Said the Raja in half drunk state and sipping the remaining rum from the glass.

“There would be a problem for you also along with your men”I said to the  Raja to bring him slightly on to the defensive

“What to me? How ? ” Asked the Raja curiously.

“Yes if the matter of physical assault reaches the higher authorities there would be investigations in which you all will be called at the office to give your statements and that is not one days job it may take more time and you will have to come forcibly because it will be done by the Defence authorities and Assam Rifles will be deployed in case your men offer any resistance”I explained it to him to put in the fear of Assam Rifles from which they usually  shook.

“So I was thinking why not to clear the case at our level itself since it is between  You and me only till now,”I added.

Raja was lost in thoughts for some time as was mum for few moments.

“Ek aur peg daliye”(Pour in one more peg please), he said

And two pegs were immediately poured out of the Old Monk bottle into his bamboo mug.

He was four high now with his eyes slightly turning red into a  joyful mood but slightly worried this time.

I could soon hear birds chirping due to outbreak of dawn.

He called for his men to gather along with those girls and within half an hour the village elders  had started appearing near his hut.

I asked him to take me to the place where Ashok was kept as a captive as he had refused me to show him during the night on my arrival since it was slightly far away and the route was slushy. I went with him to the hut located about half a km away from the main hut where 3 of his guards with Dah were standing outside to prevent him from escaping. As we entered I saw Ashok lying on the thatch without his shirt and with his face and body swollen at places due to mosquito bites and shivering with cold. His eyes reflected the fear clearly. As he saw me he came running to me and started to cry like a child holding my leg pleading himself partially guilty. I felt pity on him but did not express myself as would have infuriated the Raja. I rather scolded him  and said after kicking him on his backside with my right toe

“Tere ko aisa  kaam karte  huay sharam nahin aaii ab maro yahaan par”(You didn’t feel ashamed while doing such an act now you die here only)

“Nahin sahib main to uske hansne aur bulanay par hi uskay paas gaya tha”( No sir I went to her only after she reciprocated with a smile and beckoned me) he said honestly trying to convince me of the  true fact.

After that we came out I could make out from the expression on Raja’s face that he was satisfied more than I expected with such an act of mine which further clarified my mind how to proceed ahead.

I asked Raja to start the process and finish off the decision soon so that we can go back to our place for the work. He ordered some of his stooges to collect the old men and those girls quickly into his hut. As we reached back to his hut they all had already reached there and the girls were waiting outside chatting with each other. The Raja meanwhile told other men to bring Ashok also after giving him his clothes. I went and asked those girls,

“Kiske saath woh cherchar kiya tha?”(With which one of you did he misbehave?)

 They just laughed and ran away inside the hut. Seeing me the Raja also laughed and said smilingly,

“Woh aapko dekhkar Sharma gayee hai”(She is feeling shy after seeing you)

They were shy because they saw a stranger in me seeing a turban on my head as they had never seen a sikh like me generally and not because they were half nude.

Anyway everyone was seated around the big fire burning in the middle of the room. The Raja with one head queen  adjacent to him, some old men of the jury, other queens, me diametrically opposite  facing the Raja in the circumference and some other people as mere spectators. The girls were first called in and were asked to narrate what happened . They all said what they saw but in their language of which I could not make a head or tail of it except for the fact that they were not serious enough as if it was some game going on which I could not digest. I asked the labourer sitting next to me who had poured rum for the Raja earlier who translated it to  me that one of the friends of the girl is  stating that she  liked Ashok’s action so she beckoned him. This was indeed the point to be noted and I noted it properly in my mind to blurt it out at the right opportunity. After the girls gave their statement they went out and the Raja discussed the matter with his old men who discussed seriously as it appeared from their expressions. Then Ashok was called who by then had reached the hut and was waiting outside to be called in. When he came in he was made to stand in the centre of the circle. I missed no time in getting up and again slapping him on his face to gain public sympathy for him from all  those present who took me respectfully back to my seat to calm me down as I was expecting. Ashok was down with shame as the scene had been created to soften the judges to some extent. He was then asked to narrate the incidence and he truth fully narrated everything which was corroborated with the evidence of the girls and the matter was very ambiguous. It came out after discussion that the girls were at fault of beckoning him who never expected that he would catch hold of them but Ashok was more at  fault as he had lost control over his mind and could not resist temptation so deserved punishment.

Now the million dollar question was what quantum of punishment?

The jury again went into discussion in their language so  I asked the same labour what were they upto  and was shocked to hear from him. He said,

“They are discussing about the no of his fingers to be chopped off with which he had touched her body “

I was losing my patience now as such a thing would take a very serious turn later on . So I interrupted in between and told them if such a  punishment can be avoided by them because the girl was equally at fault since she provoked him with her smile.Had she been really serious she would have got angry or might have abused him in return but she never exhibited any such act  and if in lieu I can punish him that would save my face also and I would give them whatever is within my means. They were lost into thoughts once again and this appeared to be diverting them from their plans of punishment. They again went into discussion. Meanwhile I got a message on my radio set from my friend Kashmir singh at Tissa

“Oh sort out ho gaya ki pheja ik platoon .Assam rifle da company commander mere naal hi baitha cha pi riha hai”( Has the matter been sorted out or should I send about 40 men as I am sitting and having a cup of tea with the officer from Assam Rifles? )  

 I replied, I will tell you after about 15 minutes and closed the radio set.

This gave me quite a moral strength as I was feeling very lonely till now. So I told the Raja

“Kya socha hai tumne. Woh log isko dhoond rahey hai aur agar sham tak yeh nahin mila to Assam rife wale idhar aa jayaengay”(They are searching for him and if he does not return by dusk then Assam Rifle men will come here )

This had some effect on the Raja and he conveyed the same to the jury of old men sitting there. I could make out that their thoughts were softening on the issue as they also did not wanted to raise the issue and invite unnecessary trouble for themselves as the girls were also at fault. I told them to hurry up . After some time the Raja went out of the hut and called me to discuss the matter alone. I also went out and the Raja clarified the situation and said that they are planning to give punishment in which his five finger nails will be removed instead of chopping his fingers and this he has got it reduced as a special case and the matter will finish after that. I was still shocked as there was no treatment which could be given to him in the state of bleeding fingers and moreover that involved violent pain which would  be difficult to bear. I at once denied in anger and said that I will protest to the jury and tell them in clear terms that he should be handed over to us otherwise I will call the security through my radio set. The Raja at once replied not to adopt this way as it will lead to fight since the honour of the village was concerned. They were all really very serious so I also cooled down a little. The Raja tried to convince me that such an act cannot be even thought of by him but Ashok had done it so he deserves to be given adequate punishment. Now I clarified to him in clear terms without any hesitation or shyness and said,

“You have never lived without your queens even for a single day as are always with 18 of them together each day and each night and if  you are told to live without any of your queens for 5 months at a stretch, at a place like our det  will you be able to live without any such thought as Ashok had in his mind and that also after being provoked by a half nude girl the culture to which we are not accustomed to ?”

The Raja was speech less.

I carried on further, “If then such a girl passes in front of your house and beckons and smiles  at  you what would you do? Ashok had been living away from his family for the past 18 weeks without his wife can you now think of his  state he would be in when he took that action on provoking. I agree he has committed a mistake but is this severe punishment commensurate to his act keeping his state of mind at that time ? “

“Sahib aap to dimaag ko ghuma rahey ho? “(Sir you are boggling my head)he said to me.

“Nahin main tumko bata rahan hoon jo baat theek hain.”(No I am telling you what is right)

I also gave him assurance that I will get some of their village work also done in the bargain with my available resources if his men would cooperate in this. So told him to advice them accordingly. I also told him that I had come to sort out the matter with faith in him and thereafter had planned to celebrate with these two bottles of Rum and barbeque as a token of our friendship to make him emotional but it seems he is not interested to help me in sorting out the matter.

Hearing this he caught hold of my hand ,lowered his head ,smiled and pulled me towards he hut to enter in. We both entered the hut and he got into detailed discussion with his old men. After some time he came to me and again asked me to come out . We both came out and he said that they have agreed to the following conditions

1       Ashok will be thrashed by the girls in open in front of everyone for half an hour.

2       You will have to give Bulldozer for a day for making a route to our village from the main road.

3       Ashok will no longer be seen in this area thereafter or else he will be killed without informing anyone by our men.

“I cannot do anything more than this as otherwise I would lose the credibility of being their Raja” said the Raja  raising both his hands up.

I ,seeing the situation agreed but told him that the girls will not use any object to hit him which may cause injury and secondly I will myself punish him first and if the girls still feel they can join hands with me to which he agreed.

We both entered the hut for the last time for the day and after discussion the jury told the Raja to announce the punishment. The Raja said in clear words which everyone understood and clapped giving a loud applause but I understood nothing. I only assumed that he must have said what he had  discussed with me outside as the language was chinese for me . But the labourer who was sitting next to me smiled at  me and raised his hand towards me in happiness conveying that the matter has ended at last which was reasonably  acceptable .

Now it was the time to execute.

Ashok was nearly half dead by now but had yet to undergo about one more hour of torture and humiliation for him to come out of the rut in which he had got himself entangled. He was taken out in an open ground and asked to stand. I now had to take the initiative of punishing him such that the punishment should look like a punishment and also to take care that no severe injury is caused to him. I asked him to start rolling on the ground first so that his state becomes more pitiable. He was hardly able to walk as was having sleepy eyes, swollen face and totally demoralised. He started to roll, then side rolled, then into a rooster position which he could hardly do and fell no of times resulting into entertainment of the villagers. I went and kicked him, slapped him, threw him onto the ground to pass time so that he is away from their punishment for that much of duration. While I was doing this the girls came forward and they took on. They hit him with their bare hands on his stomach, chest , face as a result he bowed down and finally fell flat on the ground. It was then a bashing by them with their heels on to his stomach which he even got two near his groins and then turned over with his back facing the sky . The process continued for good about half an hour and soon everyone was tired of bashing. One of the girl fetched a long bamboo seeing which I indicated to Raja not to allow this and he stopped that girl.

After that I could see sense of relief in everyone’s eyes and they were satisfied. The men appeared to be furious still so I went again and slapped Ashok and made him fall down for the last time and kicked with my toes. The anguish reduced and I could now see  all eyes satisfied and that was the end of his punishment. I asked the Raja to let us carry Ashok now so that he is given some water lest he may fell unconscious again and he agreed. He was carried by two men and he walked with them in limping position with his arms on to their shoulders for the support and was taken towards the stream flowing nearby. The crowd dispersed and everyone went for their work. I quietly asked Ashok

“Are you ok”?

He nodded in affirmative with his head hanging down.

He washed his face and lied down there in pain.

I allowed him to rest for 15 minutes undisturbed to allow him to be out of shock and asked the labourers  accompanying me to help him out. I meanwhile went to the Raja and thanked him handing the remaining two bottles of rum so that he does not come back to his senses for the next 24 hours and remains in the jovial mood. I also told him not to worry about the village road and we will provide all the necessary help thereafter said bye to those girls watching and they waved back smilingly which gave me an impression that they were satisfied with the punishment now and have nothing against him. I then took Ashok and asked him to move immediately from there and we were on our way back.  With great difficulty we could bring him dragging all those four kms till our det where our vehicle was standing. On the way we had to literally lift him at times as I did not allow them to stop or take rest . Immediately on reaching I put him in the vehicle, took his essential items and started from there to reach  Tissa and by lunch time I was back. He was immediately given dressings on his invisible swelling wounds and bath and asked to doze off without speaking a word to anyone if he does not want to get into further trouble and he did exactly what we had asked him to do.

 I narrated the whole story to Kashmir Singh and he listened to it like a child listens a demon tale. Soon everything was normal and the next day Ashok started showing sign of improvement and within next three days he was in a presentable shape.

I asked him then “What if that female asked you to marry her and you had no way out what would you have done”

He said,

“Sahib ab bus bhi karo mujhe woh din yaad mat dilao aur yahaan se dusri det me bhej do (Sir I have had enough please do not make me remember those days and have me shifted to some other det)

The labouer who was listening to this said,

” Woh aise nahin kehti” (She would not have said that)

“Why?”, I asked him curiously

 He clarified that because she did not get pregnant and only a pregnant girl can ask for marriage as per their rules.

“Oh ! I see so he would have to stay there for becoming eligible to get married” I said to him to which he nodded and said ,

“Yes”

Strange traditions indeed.

When I narrated this to my wife she said

“Aisi chittar parade to Punjab, Delhi aur UP area mein honi chahiye do din mein Hindustan sudhar jayega”(If  such a punishment is given in Punjab, Delhi and UP area India will improve within two days)

An effective punishment indeed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am aboard Apolonia, a 43-foot cabin cruiser, riding in Colonial Beach’s Riverfest boat parade. Riverfest is the town’s biggest do and it has been held annually since 1951, come hell or high water—and believe me, they’ve had plenty of both. We have just pulled out into the Potomac from the shelter of Monroe Bay, which forms the town’s back door, and are working our way north, past Colonial Beach Yacht Center and Gum Bar Point and heading for the once and future municipal pier. To our starboard and stretching astern are the famous Kettle Bottom Shoals—historically some of the richest oyster banks in the world. It’s about 1:30 in the afternoon and the June sky is overcast and threatening, but the Potomac is flat and happy, at least it feels that way in the comfort ofApolonia. Her owner, Paul Bolin, is at the wheel, easing us along the parade route in the number-two position, just behind the fleet commander and ahead of the rest of the pack.

It is just here, as I look out across the six-mile-wide Potomac and then back at the town’s famous three-mile beach, that it strikes me: It’s a good thing I’m not driving this boat, because if I were at the helm I’d be dodging ghosts. You see, this particular part of the Potomac, 60 miles from Washington and 40 from Point Lookout, is positively crowded with historical apparitions, and this afternoon I see them every way I turn. For example, there off the starboard bow, I see a ghostly fleet of British warships being warped by hand across the oyster-thick shoals on their way to capture Washington. It is 1814, and they will succeed. Coming back down the river they will have an additional 25 prize ships in tow, and, again, the crews will offload everything and pull the ships across the shoals by hand. A slow and agonizing process, to be sure, but still they will make it to Baltimore harbor in time for Francis Scott Key to see their rockets’ red glare. And look, there, tearing across our wake, it’s a Maryland patrol boat hot on the tail of a local oyster dredger. Hear the machine-gun fire? One of them is going to end up dead. Now look ahead of us, just passing under the U.S. Route 301 bridge, there’s the ghost of the famous paddlewheel steamer St. Johns, its rails crammed with happy early-20th-century excursionists bound for Colonial Beach. Yes, from the ring of a thousand one-armed bandits to the creak of an oar as a Confederate spy slips between a pair of Federal warships, the water off Colonial Beach is alarmingly and charmingly crowded with ghosts.

Paul Bolin, however, is not distracted. He holds Apolonia steady on her course. His eye is not on the past but on the future of Colonial Beach and what this town, which has had more ups and downs than a bobber in a five-foot swell, is on its way to becoming. Because Colonial Beach, most recently walloped by Isabel’s unprecedented storm surge, is as surely on its way up the next big wave as the life of the waterman is on the decline.

With us on this Sunday drive in the barque are the parade’s grand marshals, Sonny and Dottie Schick, who live next door to Bolin’s Bell House Bed & Breakfast, and their son Kyle and his wife Relda. Kyle and Relda are particularly looking forward to a ride up any wave at all, since Isabel was actually the second punch in a one-two combination that left their Colonial Beach Yacht Center reeling.

The largest and one of the oldest marinas in the area, Colonial Beach Yacht Center was first devastated in May 2002 by a fire that tore through the marina’s docks, blowing up boat after boat like so many harbor mines. Fifty-six vessels, some of them irreplaceable wooden classics, were destroyed. Many of those lost woodies would have been with us today in the boat parade, but instead are now part of yet another ghostly flotilla. After the fire, the Schicks set about rebuilding the marina and were making good headway—until Isabel rolled through like a bulldozer, tossing around thousand-pound rocks and destroying another 40 boats, many of them on trailers and cradles.

“What the fire didn’t take, the hurricane did,” Kyle Schick had told me as we toured the Yacht Center earlier that weekend in a golf cart, Colonial Beach’s new vehicle of choice. Damaged in the storm were the Yacht Center’s Dockside Restaurant, ship’s store, boathouse, boat-lift area, pump-out area and fuel station. “We’re putting things back together, but better,” Schick said. “We’ve had a lot of support from the community and other marinas, but insurance never covers what you think it will.”

The new docks are wider than the old ones and all have pedestals with a phone jack and enough power for even the hottest days and the most demanding boats. The new covered docks will be made of galvanized trusses and canvas that form an arch over each slip. They will be fire resistant and keep UV rays out while letting in the sun. With a number of the new docks already in, the Yacht Center will soon have 100 open slips and 20 covered slips. There is room for another 100 boats on the hard. Currently, there are 15 transient slips with plans for 40.

Colonial Beach Yacht Center’s position at the entrance to Monroe Bay has long made it appealing to large boats coming and going from Washington, D.C., but at the same time it makes the marina more vulnerable to storms than those tucked into Monroe Bay. The facility was originally an oyster-packing house established in the 1930s. During the great hurricane of 1933, the building floated off its piers, but it was hauled back and a concrete slab was poured to keep it in place. In the 1940s, when the marina was developed with about 200 slips, the oyster-packing house became a restaurant. Isabel failed to move it but she did destroy the interior. That has since been restored, and the Dockside Restaurant reopened earlier this spring.

Two other popular Colonial Beach restaurants on the water also were destroyed—the Happy Clam and Wilkerson’s Restaurant, both at the north end of town. Wilkerson’s, since rebuilt, reopened several months ago with fresh fish, piping hot hush puppies and a wall of windows on the Potomac. But the Happy Clam has yet to make its comeback.

Although the Yacht Center was the only marina in the area to lose boats in the storm, others felt the effect as well. Jan Swink of Nightingale Motel and Marina on Monroe Bay stands in the center of her new kitchen to show me where she stood that night, knee-deep in water, watching minnows swim between her toes. “Our docks were like an accordion in some spots,” she says. In Nightingale’s motel rooms, the water rose above the headboards; all six units had to be entirely redone. But like hundreds of others all over town, Swink and her husband Bob got to work and were ready to reopen in time for the 2004 boating season. “And I got to make some changes I wanted to, anyway,” she adds, opening the doors to show me two new bathrooms and showers for boaters.

Just a little way up the bay from the Nightingale is Colonial Beach’s last marine railway and a must-see stop for any boat lover. There, the doyenne of Colonial Beach’s marina owners, Mary Virginia Stanford of Stanford’s Marine Railway, sits in the ship’s store “living room” and shakes her silver head slowly when I ask about the loss from Isabel. “So many people had trees fall on their houses,” she says sadly. “In the car the next day, I would ride a little bit, then cry a little bit.” At the railway, where for more than 60 years her husband Clarence built boats that are still in use today, the wind blew off part of a roof and the water rose halfway up the shop building. But it did no serious damage, since all of the electrical equipment had been moved earlier to higher ground. The slips survived, as did the covered wharf, which house both Hermione, a meticulously restored 1927 Elco, and Pathfinder II, the last boat Clarence Stanford built.

Back in the center of town at Doc’s Motel, Ellie Carruthers and her husband, “Little Doc,” simply went to bed when it got too dark to take any more storm pictures and the power failed. “The next morning I said, ‘Oh, my God!’ ” Ellie says. The last surge of water had lifted debris over the four-foot fence that separates the town’s oldest motel from the Potomac and left it strewn between the two wings of rooms. “We filled eighty big bags,” she says. “Everybody set to. It was like being in a parade to the dump. Finally, they had to close the dump.”

North of Doc’s, the town pier lay in ruins that day, as did a neighboring charterboat dock. When I visited the spot before the boat parade, I could see that the charterboat dock was back in place, but the town pier still needed a few more planks to be finished.

Past Doc’s and the piers stretches Colonial Beach’s famous boardwalk, once alive with vacationing families who crowded the wooden walkway and food stands. Today, it’s a concrete sidewalk snaking through the sand, bordered only by two or three food vending survivors. Buy an ice cream and take a walk along the boardwalk, though, and you won’t be alone, you’ll be in the company of some of the beach’s most raucous ghosts—the gambling casinos and dance halls that drew tens of thousands of eager summer visitors from the late 1940s through the ’50s. But time, antigambling laws, a fire in the 1960s and several earlier storms took their toll, and the Monte Carlo, the Jackpot, Joyland, Little Steel Pier and their like were gone years before Hurricane Isabel was so much as a zephyr in the Sahara. Only the Riverboat (once the Little Reno) remained, perched over the Maryland-owned Potomac and offering off-track betting, keno, two state lotteries and lunch to a quiet summer crowd. But the Riverboat is gone, too, another victim of Isabel. Unlike the others, however, the Riverboat will be back.

Peggy Browning Linthacum and Laura Raley, who are sisters, preside over a small construction trailer at the beach end of the Riverboat’s ruined pier. Their job is to assure the curious—me, for example—that the Riverboat is indeed going to be rebuilt. “We had to go all the way through the permit process, which has taken a long time,” Linthacum tells me. “But the Riverboat was pretty much grandfathered in, so it’s finally okayed.” Linthacum and Raley are the sisters of Peggy Flanagan, who with her husband Tom has owned the Riverboat since 1992. The new Riverboat, which must keep to the same footprint as the old, will actually look like a riverboat this time, Linthacum says, complete with a working paddlewheel. “We were the number one lottery sellers in Maryland,” Raley says proudly. “Customers would buy a Virginia lottery ticket and then a Maryland ticket just a few steps away.”

It was the ability to take those few steps, from the Virginia shore to the casinos that sat on long piers over the Maryland Potomac, that set the neon blazing and the joint a-jumpin’ from 1949 to 1958, when the one-armed bandit was king of Maryland amusements. After the completion of the U.S. Route 301 bridge across the Potomac in 1941, Colonial Beach was no longer such a long drive from Washington and Baltimore, and the town’s hundreds of slot machines, casinos, dance halls, welcoming beach and a boardwalk jam-packed with amusements gave people plenty of reasons to come.

“We used to open the motel on May fifteenth and stay full all summer,” Ellie Carruthers recalls. “If we weren’t full by noon, we wondered what was wrong.” Carruthers herself first came to Colonial Beach when her father, a Washington bricklayer, finally found the time to take the family on a precious two-week vacation. “When I came in 1951, there were slot machines everywhere. It was crazy!” She met Little Doc (his father was the Doc) at the Riverside and never left. “You would go up on the boardwalk at night, with mothers and fathers and children of all ages, all having a wonderful time,” she tells me as we sit in her tiny but comfortable motel office. Now in her 70s, Carruthers recently broke her hip, but, unfazed by the experience, she puts me in her wheelchair to chat while she settles into the office chair. “I have guests who met one another on the boardwalk, and other couples who make their reservations to meet here at the same time each year. Some of my customers have stayed with me every year for fifty years. I make the reservations for them before they even call.”
Watching this year’s boat parade from Doc’s is one of the motel’s first guests, now a frail old gentleman in his 90s. With him are his daughter, his granddaughter and his great-granddaughter and their families. They have taken six rooms for the weekend. Mary Virginia Stanford is another long-ago come-here to Colonial Beach who fondly remembers its wild and crazy decade. She met been-here Clarence during World War II while he was in Apalachicola, Fla., on a menhaden fishing expedition with his father. She and Clarence returned to Colonial Beach and in 1945 built a marine store and boatworks which, she says, “We’ve been working on all our lives.” They are both now in their 80s, and while Mary Virginia remains active, Clarence is confined to a wheelchair.

Mary Virginia had no objection to the old slot machines, though. “I’m all for gambling. Live and let live.” She played the nickel machine one time, she says. “I put one in and sixteen came out. I put them in my pocket, went home and bought curtains.” She remembers the boardwalk, the old homes and the time singer Jimmy Dean, “before he was famous,” came to Colonial Beach to perform. “My head came to his belt buckle.”

Stanford also remembers the Oyster Wars of the 1950s, when Maryland marine police would give chase to Virgin-ians who were dredging Maryland oysters (in the Potomac they were all Maryland oysters). Power dredging had long been ruled illegal in Maryland because it tore up the already diminished oyster beds. Only hand-tonging, slow and work intensive, was allowed (and, on certain days, skipjacks could dredge under sail). A tonger pulled oysters up with what looks very much like a Brobdingnagian posthole digger, bringing in only enough at one time for a moderately hungry man’s hors d’oeuvre. But dredging (or dragging) the beds could bring in many more bushels of oysters than tonging. If the illegal dredgers hightailed it, it wasn’t uncommon for the marine patrols to open fire as they gave chase—sometimes all the way up Monroe Bay.

“I was standing out in back with a baby in my arms,” Stanford recalls, “when the police followed a boat into the bay. The two boats came flying in. The bullets were ricocheting all around me.” Carruthers, too, remembers the sound of machine guns in the night. “The young men would just come up on the beach to be in Virginia when the Maryland police were after them. I saw one young man walk up out of the water and call back, ‘You can’t get me.’ They sat there and waited for him.”

On April 17, 1959, the bullets finally found a target and left Colonial Beach resident Berkley Muse dead. The fatality prompted the governors of Maryland and Virginia to reach a compromise, and the Oyster Wars, which had been waged off and on for a century, more or less ended.

But as the oyster harvest slackened and the slots disappeared, vacation habits changed, too, and for the next 40 years, Colonial Beach became a quiet place indeed, “a dreamer of a colorful past,” as Frederick Tilp called it in his 1978 book, This Was Potomac River. 

In 1985, residents discovered a few ghosts they hadn’t even known about. One morning after a bad storm, strollers came upon several skeleton feet sticking out of a sand bank at Gum Bar Point. When excavated, the bodies all showed they had received a blow to the skull. “They probably were immigrants pressed out of Baltimore bars in the late 1800s to work aboard a skipjack oystering,” Kyle Schick tells me as Apolonia passes what is now often called Ghost Point. “This was their payoff.”

Now it seems that Colonial Beach is about to receive a payoff of a very different kind. In the past year, real estate prices have grown wings, and real estate agents like Bob Swink of Colonial Beach Realty can’t keep enough listings to meet the demand. Homes now sell often within a week of coming on the market, something of a novelty for home–owners on Virginia’s Northern Neck. Michael Wardman, who recently invested in a block of downtown real estate of his own, told me that for the price he purchased his Colonial Beach home a few years ago, he couldn’t even buy the lots now. Housing starts are way up, as well. “In the past two years, we’ve built about ninety new homes. Before that, it was less than ten a year,” Town Manager Brian Hooten said. “The beach has been rediscovered.”

Colonial Beach’s Planning and Zoning Commission has also given preliminary approval to two big development projects. The larger would put an 18-hole championship golf course and about 900 housing units on 600 acres near Wilkerson’s Restaurant. The second, more controversial because it includes a proposed marina, would create 250 housing units, mostly townhouses, and boat slips for residents on 50 acres bordering Monroe Point. “With all this growth, the biggest challenge the town has now is maintaining its charm,” Wardman said. “It’s a big opportunity.”

It’s a challenge much on the mind of Brian Hooten, as well. About 10 years ago, the town bought up all the boardwalk’s neglected and derelict properties and then demolished them. Now the town has put those four acres of land out for bid in the hope of drawing an offer to develop the site with tourist-friendly businesses. After doing this twice, Hooten said, the city is still not satisfied. “The proposals have been weighted toward residential,” Hooten said. “We want commercial applications used by tourists and residents—like restaurants and ice-cream parlors.” The proposed residential projects are also multistory, which both Hooten and Wardman oppose. “I’m against high- and mid-rise buildings here,” Wardman said. “I don’t think it would be a good decision because it would make Colonial Beach look like everywhere else.”

Paul Bolin, too, is a prime mover in Colonial Beach’s renaissance. He is president of the Chamber of Commerce in addition to operating the Bell House Bed & Breakfast with his wife Anne and taking guests out on Apolonia for four-course dinner cruises. He is also spearheading “Vision 2015,” which he says will develop a consensus among residents for the town’s direction and growth. “I think the town will change,” he tells me as he holds Apolonia off the town pier so we can watch the rest of the parade. “But once you start development it’s hard to control where it goes. There’s no rheostat.”

“In this town it’s often the old residents, the ones who were young in the ’50s, who want to see the town get crazy again,” says Relda Schick, coming up to sit beside me on Apolonia’s flying bridge as we watch the Elco glide elegantly by. “And it’s the younger ones who want it to keep its quaint charm. It’s one of the ironies of Colonial Beach.”

There is at least one resident, how-ever, who would like to have it both ways. “I’d like to see some development, but I’d hate to see things change,” Mary Virginia Stanford had said to me as a duck walked in the front door of the ship’s store at Stanford’s Marine Railway. And that mallard, at least, was no ghost.