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This is an archive article published on July 1, 2012

A cop spins a yarn

IPS officer Taj Hassan narrates the state-versus-Maoists struggle in rural Bihar in his fiction novel,but doesn’t take sides.

For most people,Taj Hassan is just another Delhi Police officer. But every evening,when Hassan is not donning his Khaki,the writer in him stirs.

Hassan,the Joint Commissioner of Police (Central),extensively reads Gabriel García Márquez and Saul Bellow. He also loves to read Urdu writers such as Sa’adat Hasan Manto,Ismat Chughtai,Rajinder Singh Bedi,Premchand,Faiz and Ghalib.

Few knew of the literary pursuits of this IPS officer before his first English novel,The Inexplicable Unhappiness of Ramu Hajjam,published by Hachette India,was released last month.

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Set amid growing Maoist activity in Central India,it is the story of two remote villages in Bihar — how they become embroiled in the struggle between the Maoists and the state. Located on the banks of river Kareh,Bhagatpur (inhabited by land-owning farmers) and Tesri (inhabited by those who work for them) have always adhered to the status granted to them in the social and,the consequential,economic hierarchy.

However,when Ramu Hajjam,the local barber and the protagonist,is beaten up mercilessly by a landlord over a petty mistake,it sparks off tension between the two villages with Hajjam’s teenage son ultimately crossing over to the other side of the river and joining hands with Maoists to avenge his father’s humiliation. The incident offers inroads to the rebels,ever on the lookout for extending their support base,into the nondescript Tesri.

Written in a manner that is anything but amateurish,the novel is extremely honest; Hassan,who grew up at Begusarai in Bihar,is on familiar turf here.

“Bihar has its own experience with Maoists. Unless you know the facts,you cannot write a story. Reality is important,” says Hassan.

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Refusing to take sides,Hassan stands as a spectator at a distance while narrating the story. He criticises all the stakeholders while also empathising with each of them,mirroring their realities. Nothing is black or white; each stakeholder has its own shades of grey that come alive in the book.

“No character in the novel is my favourite. I am just trying to present the picture as it is. Just because I am a cop,I am not tempted to tint the story. Authors are observers of society and their job is to show the reality,” Hassan says.

Rife with sarcasm and dark humour,the book doesn’t shy away from taking pot shots at policing in India. When Tesri’s asthmatic chowkidar,Chedi Paswan,shows reluctance to go to the town after being summoned by the inspector,his messenger responds,“We chowkidars are trained to walk on the orders of a police inspector even if we are dead.” Similarly,when the body of Hajjam’s slain son is brought home,all its organs have been removed during post-mortem.

Hassan came to Delhi in 1996 when his cadre changed. He started working on the book in 2005 while he was posted as a DIG with the CISF. Evenings were mostly free then. “I wrote only at home and that too in evenings and at nights. I would open my computer immediately upon reaching home and start typing… sometimes a para,sometimes a page. It took me almost two years to finish the book.”

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After the novel was completed,Hassan was posted to the Andaman and he could not get it published. It could be given for publishing only in 2010 and was released in May this year.

Though Hassan has no literary background (he studied history at the local college before he joined the Civil Services),he was always fond of reading. By his own admission,reading is his only hobby. These days he is reading Fatwa Girl by Akbar Agha.”

His wife,Nuzhat — also an IPS officer,former chairman of National Book Trust and author of a collection of short stories — has extended all her support to his writing ambitions. The novel is dedicated to her and their young son,Sarmad.

Though they have their own personal library at home which is open for all those who wish to read,Hassan considers writing to be a very “personal,lonely exercise”. Writing,he says,is a very personal experience that can never be shared. “I never discuss what I write with anyone. It is creativity and is very personal,very special. Before this book,nobody knew that I write,” he says.

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Referring to writing as a “compost of experiences”,Hassan says that he draws from real-life characters all the time. “Who knows,you too may be used somehow,in some story as a character?”

Despite a hectic schedule,Hassan writes his ideas down “all the time” in his diary. Delhi,he says,has been “a wonderful and challenging experience” but he doesn’t have a story for the city yet. “The experience of working in the Capital and handling so many issues has been satisfying,” he says.

Given a chance,he would like to try his hand at short stories but his focus now is on fiction.

Even a serious injury he suffered in his right hand many years ago could not diminish Hassan’s longing for writing.

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In 1991,Hassan was conducting a raid on a criminal gang in Bihar when his right hand sustained a bullet injury. He was rushed to Patna Medical College and was able to write again after four months of treatment. “I find it difficult to write in Urdu. In English,one can just scribble away. However,nowadays I usually type my stories,” he says.

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