“Charu, I’ll have lunch with Ravi, so don’t wait for me,” I said as I got in the car.

“Looking smart in your uniform,” said Charu, giving my water bottle to Bhajan Singh, my loyal bodyguard. She always saw me off whenever I went out.

“As if you’re seeing me in uniform for the first time,” I said, smiling at her.

The guards at the gate saluted as the car drove out of my bungalow. It was good to be back home. I always felt much happier in a small city than in the chaos of a metropolis. But this idyllic life would only last a few more months. After all, the post of a big city commissioner of police beckoned.

“Wow,” I exclaimed as my car approached the swanky, new, ultra-modern building where my batchmate, Ravi’s office was located.

As I was escorted down the corridors by the guard, I could see Ravi surfing TV channels through the glass walls of his chamber. I knocked on the door and entered.

“What a nice workplace, Ravi Bhai! Very corporate and quite unlike our sarkari (government) building,” I said.

“Yeah, I know. Unfortunately, only the building has changed, not the work culture,’ said Ravi. ‘And to make things worse, my posting is quite inconsequential. I have practically no work.”

“I know, Ravi. But you’ll get what you deserve. You’re very much in the race for the CP post.”

“Ab kya, what now? I’m almost at the end of my career. I’ve never had good assignments in spite of working so hard,” he rued.

“Sometimes, brilliant officers like you get their due a little later. You still have a few years of service left,” I said, trying to assuage his feelings.

“But what is this? Why do you have the picture of that fraud god-man Maharaj on your table?”

“Please, Arjun, I don’t want to hear a word against Maharaj,” said Ravi, tapping his fingers on the table furiously. I looked at the colourful rings on his fingers. “Ravi, yaar, you’re an educated person, an IPS officer. And you’re wearing all these rings just because Maharaj gave them to you. Do you really think they can change your fortunes?”

“Enough, Arjun. Please don’t question my faith. Maharaj Saheb is the reason I’m still sane.” There was no point arguing. If Maharaj provided Ravi with some solace, so be it. “Apart from my professional woes, you know my personal life is screwed,” Ravi said, sounding dejected.

“Yes, I know your marriage is in shambles and you can’t do much about it. But professionally, you’re very much in the race to become the CP,” I said, trying to get him out of this mood.

“No, you’ll be the next CP. You know very well that I’m on the list of candidates only for formalities,” said Ravi brusquely.

We finished our lunch quietly. Life had been quite unfair to Ravi, both professionally and personally. While one could somehow accept the vicissitudes of professional upheavals, there was little one could do about a tormented personal life.

Ravi and Shweta were both my batchmates. Theirs was a marriage of convenience – Ravi had wanted a change of cadre to a “better” state and Shweta had wanted an “equal” in social standing, meaning that she wanted to marry only an IAS or IPS officer. Their massive egos and incompatibility had soon led to bitter fights, and their marriage spiralled into disaster.

“Why don’t you separate from Shweta and marry someone else?” I asked him. I was close enough to Ravi to discuss personal issues.

“She’s not willing to give me a divorce. She’s threatened to make my life hell because she thinks I’m responsible for her unhappiness. And she knows that if she divorces me, I will remarry. She doesn’t want to let that happen. She simply cannot see me happy.”

“Then maybe look for someone outside your marriage. At least you’ll get some emotional support, or even physical,” I said with some hesitation.

“You mean I should have an affair? Itni aukaat nahin hain, I don’t have the guts! And how come you, of all people, are suggesting an extramarital affair?” scoffed Ravi.

“I’m sorry. I just said it because it is quite common nowadays. I mean, my friends keep nudging me to have one,” I said.

“Arjun, please don’t forget that you are very lucky to have such a wonderful wife. Don’t you even think of such a stupid thing,” said Ravi as he ushered me out of his office.

Excerpted with permission from Police Affairs: Beyond the Call of Duty, Amit Lodha, Penguin Random House India.