WHERE IS THE CONTINGENCY?

I was posted for some time in the Intelligence Branch of the West Bengal Police as the Special Superintendent, looking after the VIP/VVIP security including that of the Chief Minister. In accordance with the charter of duties, I would accompany the Chief Minister on his tours. The close proximity to the Chief Minister both in this and some other field assignments, afforded a good insight in quite a few unforced oversights and faux pas that occurred on some occasions, compelling me to be increasingly convinced of the Murphy’s Law.  

Captain Edward A. Murphy, an engineer working with the American Air Force sometime around early fifties, is credited with the universal coinage, known as Murphy’s Law: If anything can go wrong, it will.

The Chief Minister was staying overnight in a Government bungalow off LRP Road in Siliguri. As usual, I had accompanied him from Kolkata. A team of officers from IB was also there for his proximate security. The district administration and the department, to which the bungalow belonged, had made all the necessary arrangements for the comfortable stay of the VVIP. A generator was also hired and installed in the bungalow campus to take care of any sudden power break-down or load-shedding that was quite frequent in those areas.  After lunch, the CM had retired to his suite before his next engagement a couple of hours later and we and the top officials of the district administration would now settle down for our Lunch. But you can’t push the Murphy’s Law under the carpet. There was a sudden power outage and each one of us jumped to his feet. Quick, quick! Switch on the generator! An officer was sent to nudge the generator operator to start it. But soon the officer came back running; ‘Sir, the generator operator is not there. He has gone to poop!’ I am not sure if this officer was providing a protective cover to the truant operator for his recalcitrance but I am positive there is no Murphy’s Law to cover this contingency.

In Banga Bhawan, New Delhi, I was, escorting the CM up to his suite in the VIP lift. His personal security guard of over three decades was also with us. As I pushed the button of the lift to the desired floor, little did I realize that we were embarking on an odyssey.

Dictionary defines odyssey as a long wandering and eventful journey. I was very sure that I had pressed the correct floor button but instead of stopping at the desired destination, the lift went up to the top floor and before I could react or think of any corrective measures, it began moving down and the LED indicator showed it had reached back the ground floor. The door wouldn’t open. So thinking fast, I pushed the desired button again taking extra care to ensure that I was pushing the right button. The lift again embarked on its journey and again overshot the destination and again returned to the ground floor. This time the door flung open. The CM got out to the shocked and panic stricken look of the senior functionaries of the Banga Bhawan huddled in front of the lift. Other than mildly inquiring ‘ki holo’ the CM simply walked to the other common lift. 

CM was visiting the district where I was the district officer. He was put up at an irrigation department bungalow which the district administration had selected for it was a relatively new property compared to the old circuit house that was in every respect a relic of the British raj. After breakfast, the CM left to see some World Bank aided projects in the countryside of the district and was to return at lunchtime. As scheduled, he came back around mid-day. In a while his confidential assistant (CA) came out rushing. The geyser in the bathroom was not working. The CA asked if a bucketful of hot water could be arranged instead.  Immediately the chowkidar of the bungalow was summoned and asked to do the needful. Considerable time elapsed and our nerves were almost on the verge of getting shattered. Yet there was no bucketful of hot water in sight. Information arrived that the peon had gone to procure firewood! It seemed like ages when the bucket with hot water finally arrived. But wait. The story did not end there.  Again the CA rushed out; there is no soap and towel in the bathroom.

Now this was like the proverbial last straw. The hugely upset District Magistrate wanted to see the concerned engineer responsible for the maintenance and upkeep of the bungalow forthwith. I distinctly remember it was a Sunday. A police officer was sent to fetch him from his house. A body mass of a panting and profusely sweating human being, whose belly preceded him, appeared. ‘Ki hoyechhe Saar’, asked the nervous engineer. The DM told him, ‘The Geyser is not working. There is no soap, no towel in the VIP bathroom.’ Suddenly the engineer breathed easy. ‘Apni ei jonyo amake dekechhen? Amader contingency kothai?’ (You called me for this? Where do we have the contingency fund?). And before anyone could recover from the shock of this argument, the Executive Engineer of the Irrigation Department of the Government, responsible for the maintenance and upkeep of the property, was gone.

Every Independence Day the CM hoists the National Flag in front of the Writers’ Buildings and the National Anthem is played by the Kolkata Police Band to the Rashtriya Salute by an attending contingent of Kolkata Police. The responsibility for fixing the pole and preparing 

an elevated platform rested with the Writers’ unit of the PWD and for fixing the flag, with the unit responsible for everyday hoisting and lowering of the National flag on top of the Writers’ Buildings. The national flag folded with rose petals was up on the flag pole to be unfurled by a pull of the rope with the simultaneous playing of the national anthem and salami shastra by the police contingent. The CM arrived at the appointed hour, stepped on to the elevated platform erected for the purpose. The parade commander paid compliments to him. The CM now turned facing the flagpole. A subedar of the Kolkata Armed Police designated to assist him, handed over the end of the rope to him and the CM pulled at the rope. The loop holding the folded flag on the top end of the pole did not slide to release the flag.  The flag did not unfurl. He looked up the pole and gave a hard jerk to the rope. To the shock and horror of everyone present, the folded flag got unfastened from the pole. It dropped in the out stretched hands of the alert subedar who was stationed below the flag pole to fasten the rope once the flag was unfurled by the CM. However the moment the CM was seen pulling the rope, the contingent commander’s loud and clear command for the Rashtriya Salute was executed. CM saluted and so did all the uniformed personnel present. Thereafter the CM stepped down the platform and acknowledging the greetings from a sparse gathering of top functionaries of the government, walked up to his car with the Police Commissioner, the Chief Secretary and the Home Secretary in tow and departed. I was ordered by the Chief Secretary to inquire in to the circumstances leading to this unprecedented mishap and fix the responsibility. In due course, I placed my report before the Chief Secretary in presence of the Home Secretary and the Commissioner of Police. Whatever was my finding and whatever follow-up measures were taken, you can’t guarantee that such or similar mishaps would not happen again. You can’t defy Murphy’s Law.

One dark evening in the U.S., Murphy's car ran out of gas. As he hitchhiked to a gas station, while facing traffic and wearing white, he was struck from behind by a British tourist who was driving on the wrong side of the road.  

Edward A. Murphy, engineer, working with the American Air Force and the discoverer of the time tested Murphy’s Law was dead.

If anything can go wrong, it will.