Every once in a while a city gets a new police chief, and with every change at the top, hope rises eternal in the hearts of its citizenry: They imagine, more prevention less crime, more protection less mugging, more policemen less assaults, more accountability less tardiness, more responsibility less laziness, more overseeing less bribery, more fairness less bullying, more leadership less oppression.

Like I said, hopes rise.

And the police chief rises to the bait and assures everyone from the lowly slum dweller to those staying in high rises that with him in control they’re all going to be safe like never before. And the city sleeps soundly that first night and maybe the second and quite often the third, till one fine morning, rape, murder, dacoity and robbery stare from front page once more.

“Can’t blame the police chief!”

“It’s a one off thing!”

“In a city so big you can’t expect miracles!”

Then the next day the same, and the next and the next and the next, and the city returns to normal; less prevention more crime, less protection more mugging, less policemen more assaults, less accountability more tardiness, less responsibility more laziness, less overseeing more bribery, less fairness more bullying, less leadership more oppression.

And the city forgets the new chief, forgets her hopes, her expectations and goes back to making her daily living.

But.

There comes a day when the city sees a tough chief or a weak one, when men are separated from the boys and the chief shows if he carries muscle on himself, not muscle between his ears, which if you’ll forgive me the term, most have been known to have in abundance.

There comes a day when gunshots are heard.

Riots break out near a holy place.

There comes a day when worshippers are attacked.

When commuters are told to go home, shops made to close, cars stoned, buses burnt and some political bigwig laughs at the police chief and dares him to put a stop.

That’s the day a chief is remembered forever or forever forgotten.

Remembered if he doesn’t think of political repercussions but does his duty, ruthlessly, quietly efficiently:

Remembered if jail doors are opened, rioters confined, troublemakers imprisoned and leaders put behind bars.

That’s the day when the police chief wins his stripes or is branded a coward. Most, lose on that day, even if they have fought terrorists before, encountered criminals and arrested rapists, most fail, but the city still hopes some day a police chief will be remembered..!