I almost choked on my morning porridge today. No, not because of cholesterol warnings, but something far more indigestible—Inspector Tukaram Kurundkar. The man, suspended for allegedly murdering a woman he was having an affair with, was proudly decorated with the President’s Medal. Yes, while under suspension. It wasn’t just toast I dropped. I think I dropped a bit of faith in the system too.
And as I stared at that headline, something snapped—not the spoon holding my porridge, but a connection. The one between khaki and khadi. Once upon a time, they stood apart.
The khaki stood for duty. The khadi for democracy.
One enforced the law, the other wrote it. Today, they’ve become co-conspirators in a drama where truth is gagged and justice stage-managed.
The khadi-clad neta who once folded hands in dusty lanes now zooms past in tinted SUVs, flashing the same fingers that once pleaded for votes, now signaling orders to the nearest cop. And the man in khaki, who once saluted the Constitution, now bends not to the rule of law, but to his political master who can ensure his transfer is cancelled or his medal is fast-tracked.
Walk into any police station today and you’ll see it. You are a suspect until proven connected. Justice is reserved for those with the right reference. And if you dare complain? The tone changes. The shoulders stiffen. Suddenly, the khaki starts speaking the language of the khadi—arrogance, disdain, and the ever-familiar: “Do you know who called me?”
Just behind my house are the police quarters. Normally quiet, but when there’s a wedding or festival, loudspeakers blare into the night, long past legal limits. Complain? Not unless you want to test how it feels to be on the wrong side of a baton.
The police have become the law, not its servants. Why? Because their bosses—the politicians—need them more than they need voters. The man in khadi leans on the man in khaki, not to uphold law and order, but to keep power in place.
And now with the new set of laws, we’re handing over more powers to the police. And then we wonder why custodial deaths are rising. Why justice is taking a backseat. Why the honest officer is a dying breed.
This isn’t about one corrupt cop getting a medal. It’s about a system where khadi props up khaki and khaki protects khadi. A dance of mutual benefit, performed while the rest of us watch from the sidelines, slowly losing our rights, our voice—and our freedom.
So speak up, dear citizen. Before your silence becomes your sentence. Before you find yourself confessing to crimes you’ve never committed, while medals shine on the chests of those who no longer serve, but rule.
And somewhere in the shadows, khadi and khaki will shake hands—again…!
The Author conducts an online, eight session Writers and Speakers Course. If you’d like to join, do send a thumbs-up to WhatsApp number 9892572883 or send a message to bobsbanter@gmail.com
