Guest Control

Guest Control

Around April, 1960, the Degree examination was over and marriage season had stepped in. In view of scarcity of rice and other eatables the State Government issued a notification for austerity measures for feasts on account of marriages or on any other celebration. The number of guests to be invited was restricted to 25.  The household of the bride could entertain 25 from his relations and 25 from the family of the groom. People devised a formula and stretched the function to a period of a number of days. Each day specific number restricted to 25 was served with the invitation. So if the number of guests was 100, they were invited @ 25/each day on four different dates. The Government did not yield. It promulgated that within a specific period only one feast was allowed to celebrate.

It generated an extra source of income for the concerned Police Chowki officer. Besides, the confiscated dishes fattened the police officials and their families.

Those very days one of my cousins got married. I faintly remember that the guests were served in groups of 25. It was ensured that another group be called from the hideout only after the first one had left. At any particular time there should not be more than 25. I believe I was in the third group of 25.

Hustle and bustle was over. The gap between the two festivities became age-bar. In view of the left over stocks, sufficient to meet the requirement for the next function, the host, father of the bride was persuaded by his well-wishers to do away with the liability of the allied function of ‘phirsal’.

I don’t remember whether I was invited or not, but being my ‘matamal’, I did not wait for formality of invitation. I accompanied the newly wed couple and managed to sit among the distinguished guests. Soon the bride appeared on the scene and signaled me to go back and get more children for whom enough of preparations were already cooked.

 In obedience, I ran from Agahamam to Dalhasanyar across the River Vetesta and returned within no time, leading a band of enthusiastic age-group.

By the time I returned, it was already dark. Crisscrossed the interwoven by- lanes, hardly five yards away from the destination, when I became panicky in view of the commotion around the main entrance. In whispers an elderly and appreciably tall person suggested that I should go back before the police would arrest me for breaking the Guest control. He was dressed in black achkan, tight trousers in snow-white colour (tang-murie pajama) pink colour turban and apparently seemed to be a man of authority. I along with the band dispersed and went back to Dalhasanyar. Later on I came to know that he was Pundit Jia Lal Khuda, uncle of Shri Kuldip Khoda IPS who recently retired as Director General of Police.

The bride was the younger sister of the mother of Shri Kuldip Khoda. It was the ‘phirsal’ to two grooms who were married to two sisters on the same day. Both the grooms were hid in some abandoned store room beyond the reach of the Police. The police took the head of the family along with some of his close relations into custody. All the utensils filled with different varieties of meat, thalies, glasses and other paraphernalia was confiscated by the Police.  The next day people in custody were released on bail. For more than six months the utensils that were on rent remained in the court custody. Rent on the hired utensils accrued more than their cost.

Wali Shah from Munvarabad was the in charge Dy. S P. He was beyond the reach of a common man and nobody could influence him. Those days his office was at Batmaloo in the premises of today’s Police Control Room. All the policemen at the traffic beat from Batmalloo to Munvarabad were kept informed about his exit from his room at his lunch hour. The policemen used to be over cautious about their duty and ensure that salute to the officer was not missed.