On Saturday morning, when Cherian was not at home, a man in civvies came visiting, said he was from the police and told his wife that Cherian would have to come down to the Navapura police station at 6 p.m. to give some information. He was to bring documents like a ration card, a house deed, etc.

Cherian's wife, having read reports of a `census' being conducted among Christians, asked the man whether it was in that context. The man fumbled for a moment before saying, ``You're not supposed to ask this question.''

When Cherian heard what had happened, he concurred that this was part of the census. He informed his colleague Jayaditya Gupta, and they arranged to go to the station together.

They reached the police station at 6.30 p.m. and were informed that the PI was out and would return ``soon''. A plainclothesman then asked Cherian what he had come for. As soon as he identified himself, the policeman showed them a cyclostyled sheet with Gujarati writing, and said it was a `no-objection certificate', which usually came after one had applied for a passport or some other document.

He started reeling off questions: Name, father's name, job details, where Cherian was from, how long he'd been in Gujarat... Cherian said he hadn't applied for any document, and wouldn't give information unless he was told what, specifically, it was needed for. The man said he didn't know, ``you should know''.

They decided to wait for the PI and, after about half an hour, asked if the PI could be contacted. The man said no. They then asked what would happen if they just walked away; the man said he would have to answer for it, and Cherian would have to give this information anyway. All this while, they had been standing outside; at this point, they went inside and sat next to him.

They asked the man what would happen if, hypothetically, Cherian had applied for a passport and decided he didn't need the NOC any more; would the police still go ahead with the queries? The man said in that case a person would lose his chance. ``But I'll have to complete the enquiries anyway; otherwise I will be in trouble.''

Gupta asked him how he could frame the questions if he didn't know which document they were necessary for. At this point the man, his patience stretched, said, pointing at Gupta, ``You, get out''. Gupta got up and asked Cherian to follow; the man made as if to grab Cherian's hand and said, ``You, stay''. He said he was under no compulsion to stay and left.

Outside, they chatted with the plainclothesmen. All the while, they had not revealed their identities, Cherian only saying that he was a photographer. The policemen kept asking the same questions: How long have you been here, where were you before this, what do you do here, who do you stay with, what is your income, have you bought a house, who is your landlord, where does he stay. And all the while, there was an urgency in their voices that one doesn't normally hear when one goes to the police station.

At about 7.45 p.m., Gupta called up DCP Mohan Jha, identified himself and told him what had happened. The DCP asked him to wait for 10 minutes at the police station. Within moments, he had called back and asked the person officiating to take the statement. The same problem cropped up: Cherian would not give information unless told what it was for. The man then asked him to make a statement that he had not applied for any document; even then, the police sought details (age, father's name). Cherian refused, asking him how they were relevant in this case, wrote out his statement and left.

Till then, one thing was very clear: Nobody knew why a policeman had been sent to Cherian's house. And till then, Cherian could not recollect what document he had applied for. Later, he realised that he had applied, through the Ahmedabad office, for a press accreditation card. But still no one in the police seemed aware. It was only on Sunday morning, when a colleague went through the files at the station, that the police could confirm why they had sent a plainclothesman to somebody's house.

By then, Cherian's nerves were in tatters. As was the reputation of those at the Navapura police station.