My father was 9 or 10 years old when he saw a light bulb for the first time. My grandfather was a prayer leader, an agriculturist and a kabadi player.
My father saw the light bulb first time on Jhelum railway station. He had boarded the train from Kalashah Kaku, where my grandfather had taken on lease a large piece of land.
When my grandfather and father reached the railway station at Jhelum, it was night and a few lights were trying to illuminate the platform.
A policeman started harassing my grandfather on one pretext or the other. He wanted to mint some bribe from him. My father was intently listening to the conversation taking place between the policeman and my grandfather.
After failing to dissuade the cop from taking the bribe, my grandfather asked him to come in a dark corner where he would give him the money away from the eyes of the public. The greedy policewala caught hold of my grandfather's wrist who was nervously clutching the wrist of my father, and took them in a dark spot outside the railway station.
It was the time for the kabadi player to defeat the prayer leader in him. My grandfather punched the cop on his face so hard that he fell down on the ground. The cop stood up and silently walked towards the station. My grandfather and father came to the village.
To us the incident has always been an action-thriller bedtime story. To my father, the incident acted as a motivation to crush the brutality and corruption in police. Torching of a police station, firing on police with automatic weapons, burning the police record and groping the bosom of two ladies at a public place are on my father's credit.
My father saw the light bulb first time on Jhelum railway station. He had boarded the train from Kalashah Kaku, where my grandfather had taken on lease a large piece of land.
When my grandfather and father reached the railway station at Jhelum, it was night and a few lights were trying to illuminate the platform.
A policeman started harassing my grandfather on one pretext or the other. He wanted to mint some bribe from him. My father was intently listening to the conversation taking place between the policeman and my grandfather.
After failing to dissuade the cop from taking the bribe, my grandfather asked him to come in a dark corner where he would give him the money away from the eyes of the public. The greedy policewala caught hold of my grandfather's wrist who was nervously clutching the wrist of my father, and took them in a dark spot outside the railway station.
It was the time for the kabadi player to defeat the prayer leader in him. My grandfather punched the cop on his face so hard that he fell down on the ground. The cop stood up and silently walked towards the station. My grandfather and father came to the village.
To us the incident has always been an action-thriller bedtime story. To my father, the incident acted as a motivation to crush the brutality and corruption in police. Torching of a police station, firing on police with automatic weapons, burning the police record and groping the bosom of two ladies at a public place are on my father's credit.
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