It was late February 1950, and the faint buzz of a ceiling fan did little to cut the stale heat in Rohan Varma's office.
The room was quiet except for the scratch of his pen as he signed yet another stack of reports.
Across the desk, Manisha sat flipping through a thick file, her brows furrowed in concentration.
Neeraj Kumar stood by the window
"The riots in Kanpur last year," Neeraj began, breaking the silence, "they weren't just about food shortages or unemployment. The police completely lost control. They didn't have the training, the equipment, or the leadership to manage the crowd. It's a miracle it didn't escalate into something worse."
Rohan put down his pen and rubbed his temples. "It's always the same story. They react too late, with too little preparation. And when they do act, it's either excessive force or complete paralysis."
Manisha nodded. "We've been hearing the same complaints for months. Officers are undertrained, underequipped, and, frankly, unmotivated. If we don't fix this now, we're going to face something much worse than what happened in Kanpur."
Rohan leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "We've inherited a colonial system designed to suppress, not to serve. It's outdated, and it's failing us. We need a complete overhaul. But where do we even begin?"
Neeraj pulled a folder from the stack on the desk and handed it to Rohan. "I've been working on this. It's a blueprint for reform training, equipment, recruitment, and operational strategy. We need to rebuild from the ground up."
Rohan opened the folder, scanning the pages. "All right, let's get to work. But this won't just be about writing reports. We need to meet with the police leadership, see the conditions on the ground, and hear directly from the people in the force."
A week later, Rohan, Manisha, and Neeraj found themselves in a cramped conference room at Delhi Police Headquarters.
The air was heavy with smoke from the cigarettes of senior officers seated around the table, their khaki uniforms slightly rumpled.
Commissioner D.K. Bhattacharya, a stout man in his 50s with a neatly trimmed mustache, sat at the head of the table, looking skeptical.
"So," Bhattacharya said, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "you want to reform the police force. It's a noble idea, sir, but let me tell you, this isn't going to be easy. The budget is tight, morale is low, and half of our equipment dates back to the war."
"We're not here to assign blame, Commissioner," Rohan replied calmly. "We're here to figure out how to fix the system. Let's start with training. How are new recruits prepared for their duties?"
Bhattacharya smirked. "Prepared? They get six months of basic drills, a few lectures on the law, and some target practice. That's it. Most of them learn on the job or they don't."
Manisha leaned forward. "What about crowd control? Negotiation techniques? Handling sensitive situations without resorting to violence?"
The Commissioner shrugged. "We do what we can with what we have. But frankly, it's not enough. You've seen the riots. Half the time, our officers don't even know how to use their lathis properly, let alone manage a mob."
Rohan exchanged a glance with Neeraj. "That's going to change," he said firmly. "We're implementing a new training program intensive, scenario-based, and focused on modern methods. You'll have joint exercises with the military to improve coordination. And we're introducing non-lethal tools for crowd control."
Bhattacharya raised an eyebrow. "Non-lethal tools? Like what?"
"Tear gas, rubber bullets, and barricades," Neeraj explained. "We'll also train officers in de-escalation tactics. The goal is to prevent violence, not escalate it."
The room fell silent for a moment.
Then Bhattacharya nodded slowly. "If you can get us the resources and the trainers, we'll make it happen. But it's going to take time."
A month later, Rohan visited a police training camp on the outskirts of Delhi.
The sound of whistles and shouted commands filled the air as recruits marched in formation under the watchful eye of their instructors.
Captain Ramesh Mehta, a retired Army officer recently appointed as a police training supervisor, greeted Rohan with a crisp salute. "Sir, welcome to the camp. Let me show you around."
As they walked, Ramesh pointed out the different training modules. "We've introduced riot control drills, hand-to-hand combat training, and simulations of crowd scenarios. These recruits are learning how to handle themselves without resorting to brute force."
At one station, a group of recruits practiced forming a human barricade while another group played the role of an angry mob, throwing soft projectiles and shouting slogans.
An instructor barked orders, correcting their stance and positioning.
"These men are getting better," Ramesh said. "But the real challenge is mindset. Policing isn't just about force; it's about discipline and strategy. That's where we need to focus."
Rohan watched for a moment, then turned to Ramesh. "What about equipment? Do they have what they need?"
Ramesh shook his head. "Not yet. The new supplies you promised helmets, shields, communication radios they're on the way, but we're still using what we have for now. It's a start, though."
Another major challenge was recruitment. Rohan had insisted on diversifying the police force to reflect the nation's communities.
In Bihar, he visited a recruitment drive where candidates from villages lined up to take physical and written tests.
"Why do you want to join the police?" Rohan asked a young man named Arjun, who stood nervously clutching his application form.
"To serve my people, sir," Arjun replied. "In my village, we don't trust the police. I want to change that."
"That's exactly what we need," Rohan said, patting the young man on the shoulder.
Retired Army officers like Captain Mehta were also being integrated into the force.
At a ceremony in Mumbai, Rohan addressed a group of former soldiers who had just been sworn in as police officers.
"You've already served this nation with honor," he said. "Now we're asking you to bring that same discipline and dedication to our cities and towns. Your experience will be invaluable in mentoring our younger officers."
One evening, Rohan visited a community meeting in a crowded Delhi neighborhood.
Inspector Neha Joshi, one of the few women officers in the area, stood at the front of a small gathering of residents.
"We're not just here to enforce the law," Neha said. "We're here to listen to you. What are your concerns?"
At first, the residents were hesitant, but gradually, they began to speak up.
A shopkeeper complained about thefts in the market.
A mother expressed fears for her children's safety after dark.
Neha took notes, her tone patient and reassuring.
"We'll address these issues," she promised. "But we also need your help. Safety is a partnership between the police and the community."
While police reforms were underway, Rohan also pushed for the creation of two new agencies to tackle larger challenges: the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) and the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW).
At a high-level meeting in April 1950, Neeraj laid out the proposal. "The CBI will focus on high-profile crimes and corruption cases. It'll need independence and advanced forensic tools. As for R&AW, it'll handle intelligence both domestic and foreign. With threats from across the border, this is non-negotiable."
Rohan nodded. "Make it happen. We can't keep fighting fires without understanding where they're coming from."
By the end of the year, the changes were beginning to show.
Police forces were better trained, better equipped, and more disciplined.
Community policing had started to build trust in some of the most volatile areas.
The CBI had already cracked a major corruption case, and R&AW's intelligence was proving invaluable in monitoring cross-border threats.