Customs, Police and a cautionary tale

 Recently, a logistics company, Wintrack tweeted: 

From October 1, 2025, our company will cease import/ export activities in India. For the past 45 days, Chennai Customs officials have relentlessly harassed us. After exposing their bribery practices twice this year, they retaliated, effectively crippling our operations and destroying our business in India. We deeply thank everyone who has supported us during these difficult times. 

Customs dismissed the allegations as “serious and false.” Wintrack named three officials, shared screenshots, mentioned bribe amount/s and also “discount” on the bribes. The episode led to such a flood of others pouring out their tales of harassment by and bribery of Customs officials on the internet that the Union Finance Ministry has now ordered an enquiry and also issued a statement. 

Well, I too have a Customs story. 

This was when I was S.P., Calcutta Airport. I learnt that the airport gate leading to the Customs enclosure had become almost a free zone with anyone entering and exiting it freely. This had serious implications for the airport security. The airport is only as secure as all its access points and any breach anywhere compromises the whole system. As per the rules, there were only two ways to enter an airport, either through a legitimate ticket for travel or an Airport Entry Permit (AEP). 

I directed the Police personnel to strictly implement the above rule without any exception, regardless of the gate. I was astounded by the backlash from Customs. Their Assistant Commissioners threatened my officers and even their Additional Commissioner wrote a D.O. letter asking me to “stop such practices which was impacting their rules of business.” When I pointed out that I shall not be able to allow anyone in without one of those two documents because that was violative of my “rule of business,” she chose to approach my seniors. 

Additional Commissioner of Customs was very senior to me in rank and rated audience by the high and mighty in the Police. I received a call from a DGP asking how come Calcutta airport had collapsed under my watch. I politely told him that I was as of that moment sitting in the airport and all about me things were bustling along and I definitely would’ve noticed if it had indeed collapsed. He was not convinced and ordered an IGP to look into the matter. I was accordingly summoned by the IGP to explain. 

What had happened was this. Those days, smuggling from Bangkok used to be big. There were these operators from Fancy Market in Kidderpore, the smuggling hub of Calcutta who used to regularly fly to Bangkok and come back with smuggled goods to the full extent of their purchasing power. After arriving at Calcutta airport, they would have no money for paying the Customs duties or the “alternative demands” so they would be allowed to go out of that gate and auction the goods out at the airport itself (the gate would be crowded with touts in sync with the arrival of those flights) and come back with the money to pay. The procedure is that if the legitimate Customs duties were to be paid, the goods needed to be “officially seized,” valued, and later released from the Customs warehouse against payment of the duty amount. This apparently was anathema to the Customs officials because that would obviate any “negotiations” or other dealings. I also offered to accept a third document, i.e., written authorisation by the Customs officials for any re-entry but that too was not acceptable because it would create a paper trail, hence no possible “negotiations.” 

So I went to that Nuremberg trial chaired by the IGP. I had prepared a two-page note detailing the full picture and submitted it for “his kind perusal.” The IGP was flanked by two DIGs and I was seated facing the three of them and shrinking by the minute. While the IGP was reading the note, the two DIGs took turns to berate and abuse me left, right and centre for “not being practical,” for creating friction with other agencies, for making things unnecessarily difficult for all concerned and so on. This went on for a good 10-15 minutes. Then the IGP finished reading the note, looked up and asked, “Agar smugglers ko tight kar raha hai to aap logon ko kya dikkat hai?” Immediately, the two DIGs changed their tune and complimented me for doing such a stellar job. I breathed again. 

Armed with that validation, I went back and hand-picked four officers with unimpeachable integrity to supervise that particular gate (in the four shifts). The Customs officials and the touts threatened to get them eliminated. I deployed visible and substantial police escorts for them to and from their residences. I also found that after the last international flight at around 9.30 PM every day, there used to be a party in the Customs enclosure to distribute the booty and the “negotiated amounts” collected during the day over sumptuous food and booze supplied from a nearby (famous) hotel and the officials used to be in an expansive mood then, expansive enough to throw Rs. 10,000 or so as tips for each of the hotel staff doing the catering. These hotel guys were also entering without any permit. I personally stopped them and again the Customs officials contacted a lot of my seniors on the plea that I was making them starve. However, this time, it didn’t cut any ice with anyone. 

After the airport assignment, I was posted to Calcutta Police which was a leg up. I was happy. But the happiest was the Customs set up at the airport. I believe, when the news of my new assignment filtered in, they burst into a proper Bhangra in celebration. The Airports Authority organised a big farewell for me – it was an eventful tenure, Purulia arms-drop, two almost-hijacks, a grenade incident and so on. All the agencies operating at the airport, with one exception, participated with gusto. Customs officials were conspicuous by their absence.

What the cop and the bribe did next

In my childhood, I had heard a popular rhyme, “Machha khaiba ilisi, chakiri kariba polici,” meaning, “out of all the fish in the world, the choicest is Hilsa fish; out of all the jobs in the world, the best one is that of a cop.” In the India of the early 1960s characterized by low incomes, job attractiveness tended to be measured by the potential for illegal gratifications. The incomes have gone way up, even in real terms. India is no longer the land defined only by snake charmers, rope tricks and abject poverty. However, Police continues to be associated with rampant corruption. 

At the police station, registering a case, investigation, decision to arrest, submitting of chargesheet, closing the case; each stage of the game is marked by what is euphemistically referred to as “give-and-take.” I once got hold of a “(top) secret” register of a police station under my jurisdiction. The double entries of income and  outflows were so perfect that I thought even my accounts teacher at IIMB could have learnt a thing or two. All collections were written on the left-hand side and all outflows including balance were given diligently on the right-hand side. It was also actually “audited by an internal Committee!” To my horror, I saw my own name and designation on the outflow column each month so I confronted the SHO (he is called OC in my cadre). He explained that the rate was fixed by one of my predecessors and it continues until a different rate is fixed by another officer. Since unfortunately (unfortunately?) I wasn’t taking the money, that share used to go into an escrow account to be spent informally for certain specified purposes. Similarly, the rates were fixed for each rank. Interesting part was, a person was entitled to his share of the monthly pie only if he was on duty for at least one day in the calendar month. That is when I understood why all Earned Leave applications were of 27/ 28 days and never subsumed an entire month. If anyone was unfortunate enough to forfeit his share like this, that again went into the escrow account. Every police station also annually appointed someone as a “dak master”, through auction, to fulfil the collection target. Anything beyond that was his profit.

The dak master “supervises” the various organs of “collection.” The constabulary extorts money from the hawkers, footpath dwellers, truck and bus drivers and so on. This is the visible corruption but actually accounts for a miniscule portion of the take. The investigating officers concentrate on the complainants, witnesses and the accused. The SHO acts as the “gatekeeper” for registering of criminal cases and arrests. There is of course the “hafta,” weekly collections from shopkeepers, businesses and criminal operators. And so on. I found that there was a lot of demand for “night patrolling.” Usually, every Police Station has one jeep dedicated to it. This jeep is affectionately called “Laxmi Bhandar” by the Police Station staff. Interestingly, the night patrolling often doesn’t end with the night and continues to daylight hours, including and up to the afternoons. 

 

As Additional SP, on the day of assuming my second charge, I was sitting in my office, feeling sleepy and waiting for some file to come or the telephone to ring. The first call was from the-person-who-must-not-be-named but who was rumoured to be actually running everything! No, not the CM or the Chief Secretary but someone whose ante chamber used to be replete with Chief Secretary/ DGP aspirants and history’s unmarked graves of discarded careers. I was jolted out of my stupor and sat bolt upright. Nearly saluted invisibly. Here is the conversation:

“You’ve joined. Good, good.”

Me: “(Sputter, sputter)”

“Your officer visited someone I know regarding Police verification for a government job. He has made such a huge demand that this person is not able to pay. Please see if something can be done.”

Me: “Please tell him not to entertain any such demand. I’ll check.”

“No, no. Whatever normal expectation would be fulfilled. I’m just requesting because the demand is way higher than normal.”

A threshold of corruption seemed the accepted norm.

Same office. Another day. A Deputy Magistrate visited me and told me that his sister had got admission in a prestigious medical institute in London but was not able to go because one of my officials was harassing her for money for giving the Police clearance for her passport and the amount was beyond their capabilities. When I started the enquiry, the girl’s father pleaded with me not to proceed because that might antagonize the official even further and, as a result, his daughter would not be able to go. I reassured him, arranged for all the clearances, placed the official under suspension and initiated a Departmental Enquiry. These enquiries proceed at their own pace. Three years and two further postings of mine later, the Enquiry Officer and the charged official landed up in my office to formally record my statement in the enquiry. After the formal process was over, I asked the official where he was posted those days. He smugly replied, “You see, Sir, you suspended me about three years back. After that, I’ve never bothered to return to office.” Apparently, he had already earned so much illegally that he found managing his money and attending to his myriad private businesses more profitable. He was only interested in completion of the enquiry so that he could resign and his pension would be forthcoming.

 

[to be concluded]

Return of the cop and the bribe

 

The views and the responses around the previous blogpost have prompted me to add a sequel.

Once I was sitting at a Police Station when a local leader walked in with information and desire for information. After his need for information regarding arrest of some of his supporters and action on his complaints was satiated, he launched into a diatribe on all that was wrong with everything around him. He raved and ranted about how the PWD engineers were indulging in corruption on an unimaginable scale, how much the general public was duped by them and so on. I asked him why then he always targeted the Police in his critical speeches all the time and never mentioned PWD. He said if he talked about even grand corruption by any other department, people might hear but would not listen. On the other hand, even petty corruption by Police strikes a familiar chord with his audience. As a leader, he needed to say what the people wanted to hear. This is one of the reasons Police corruption is talked about so much – corruption by the Police is much more visible. However, that doesn’t wish away the problem. Whether corruption is more in the Police than in other departments and agencies or less, Police corruption is a stark reality.

How and why does the Police corruption take place? Actually, Police functioning is one of the most supervised government services. The rules and regulations are watertight, the inspection and monitoring systems are rigorous and there are layers upon layers of supervision. Why then? Part of the answer (but not the whole answer, by any means) lies in the origins of Policing in India.

During Mughal rule, there was only rudimentary policing although terms like Daroga, Kotwal, etc. seem to be of Mughal origin. During this period and early British rule, the Policing function did not command a salary. The person entrusted with the job used to collect cash and kind from the population and traders in his area to pay the compensations for himself and his staff. The biggest source of income used to be the weekly haats (markets) and thus hafta became synonymous with Police corruption.

For a while, the zamindars were held responsible for the crimes committed in their areas. Lord Cornwalis reforms of 1792 removed this responsibility but tasked the zamindars to report crimes. This created an anomalous situation as crimes and criminals became a major source of income for the zamindars and it was in their interest not to report the crimes. When the Policing was organized along more professional lines, the accountability to the public was conspicuous by its absence in the ethos and the working. With that background and the constant need to keep the official crime figures down, suppression and minimization of crimes/ cases got deeply entrenched in the Police DNA even though as per law, every complaint, even a false one, is mandated to be recorded as an FIR. In case of a false complaint, there are provisions to prosecute the complainant, but only after registering the FIR. Police can refuse investigation but only after due documentation and recording valid reasons in writing. There is no discretion to refuse to even accept a complaint. Unfortunately, this “unavailable” discretion is used for serious corruption.

When I was an IPS probationer and was visiting my brother studying in Delhi, his bicycle got stolen. I accompanied him to the Police Station to lodge a complaint. Then I realized how difficult it was to register an FIR in India. It would be hours before the duty officer would even look at you. If and when he does, he would bark rudely as to why you’re disturbing him. This particular duty officer demanded Rs. 100 to lodge the FIR. When I introduced myself as an IPS probationer, he said, “Aarey aap toh ghar ke hain, 50 rupaya mein ho jayega.” A discount! The Police Station was in the office complex of the DCP and this was happening literally under the DCP’s nose. I had to meet the DCP to manage to lodge a First Information Report FREE OF COST. As to the investigation … my brother is still waiting for any news and I have retired from the service.

The situation was bad when I joined the service. Later, it was worse rather than better.

In my cadre, for any officer working in outlying districts, a visit to the state HQ on official work used to be nightmarish. There were two government guest houses which used to cater to all of us from different services and many times, the rush was too much. One had to practically beg and plead with the concerned officials for accommodation. Other suitable accommodation was beyond the reach of our pockets and the travelling allowance. After a lot of efforts, the IPS officers pooled in certain resources and, with a bit of help from the government, managed to create an eight-room IPS Mess in the city in the early 1990s. This was a godsend and made all of us feel relieved while visiting. Long years later, when I returned to the cadre after a central deputation in 2009, I checked into the IPS Mess and had to stay there for about two months before getting official quarters. I was surprised that for almost the entire period, I was the lone occupant in the Mess. Intrigued, I asked the Mess officials how come. They said, things had changed for the better. The officers of the outlying districts preferred to stay in 5-star hotels when they visited. Change for the better indeed! The pay and travelling allowances remained a pittance. When I quizzed further as to who paid for the 5-star accommodation, there was a telling silence …

 

[to be continued further]

The cop and the bribe

 

There is a system called “Bharat Darshan” prescribed for all government officers of Group A. This essentially means that during probation, a group of young, idealistic trainees go around the countryside under the guidance of a senior officer of the service to various parts of the country, get acquainted with different cultures, traditions and different systems of administration in different parts of India that is Bharat. Usually, it covers 5/6 states in each route – you meet the Governor, Chief Minister, President/ Prime Minister if your route includes Delhi, Chief Secretary, DGP and so on.

In one of the groups, 21 of my batch, bright – eyed IPS probbies accompanied by a seasoned IPS officer were ushered into the august presence of a particular DGP in a state. Many of the probbies asked probing questions like how to improve the criminal justice delivery system, whether there was life after or outside IPS and so on, when the DGP held out a restraining hand and asked, “Woh sab toh theek hei, yeh bataao, paisa kamana hei ki nahin?” The officers were stunned! The DGP asking this! He amplified, “Nahin, nahin, yeh baat nahin hai. When you join the posting, people will be very curious about you. No matter how much you try to hide anything, within three years of service, everyone will have a very good fix on you. Whether you are trying to be part of the ‘haves’ (read corrupt) or ‘have nots’ (read beggar). If ‘have,’ whether you are a ‘grass – eater’ (Allah ke naam pe kuchh de de) or a ‘man – eater’ (I shall squeeze your neck ever so slowly but with excruciating force until you cough up your last drop) and so on. Point is, if in those crucial three years you have built the reputation of a ‘have not’ and after three years, you want to ‘have’, you can’t. Yeh kambakht reputation tumhe paisa kamane nahin dega. Soch lo. Paisa to kuchh logon ko chahiye hota hai. The time to decide is now.” The probbies didn’t know whether to think of it as some weird sense of humour or a brush with real life.

When I was doing my district training, I was attached to a Police Station. Part of the routine consisted of stopping errant drivers and booking them for traffic violations. One truck driver offered me Rs. 50 for releasing his truck. I was flabbergasted. How dare he try to bribe a senior officer like me? So I started to give him a lecture on the hierarchy in Police. I told him that most of the cops he deals with are Constables and, on his lucky day, probably a Head Constable. Above this rank is an Assistant Sub Inspector who reports to a Sub Inspector who is the BIG GUN, usually called “Bada Babu.” A Sub Inspector is usually in charge of a Police Station. Several Police Stations come under an Inspector. Several Inspectors report to a Dy. S.P. and above Dy. S.P. is a rank of Assistant Superintendent of Police which was roughly where I was. His daring to bribe such a senior officer was mind boggling. The truck driver was suitably chastened and said, “Galti ho gaya sahab. Sau rupaiya (100 rupees) le lijiye.” I was depressed for days. That was the only time I was offered a bribe. Some mistake somewhere in those first three years, probably.

During my first posting as SDPO, Alipurduar, I was staying at a guest house until my predecessor vacated the government quarters. I moved in the day he vacated and then I realised that I needed to have a cot and basic furniture. When I was debating where to go to buy these things on instalment basis, my security guard who was a Constable suggested that since he had a spare cot, he should lend it to me until I made more permanent arrangement. Gradually, it turned out he had spare everything, spare cot, spare dining table, spare TV, spare VCR and so on. When I asked him how he managed to achieve so much at such a young age, he said one single posting at Barobisha and he had gone from “shunya to shikhar” within three months. Barobisha is the check post between West Bengal and Assam. I went back to the subdivision for a holiday three years after leaving it. This same Constable heard about my visit and came to meet me. As a part of small talk, I asked him where he was posted. He said cheerfully that he had been under suspension for about a year on charges of grand corruption …