GloMag GloMagDecember2018 - Page 212

one cold night he escaped into Pakistan and lived there till his death some years later. Dad never told me his exploits that took months sometimes on foot since the lion-infested Sasan-Gir forest was impossible to cross even in 4-wheeled Jeeps and Land Rovers. But I guessed a lot, pretty accurately. Many stories were told later by his friends and admirers. Once I sat eating humble food in Rajesh Canteen, a very down-at-heel sort of eatery in Gorwa industrial estate, during my first serious job in industry. I observed the pleasant Mr. Kaushik Patel, as the owner-manager, always smiling to himself and often paying back more change to customer, more than necesssary. It turned out he was a hopeless alcoholic as many of his community in Baroda are. Gone cases. After six months on an impulse I made small talk with him. He wanted to know if I was in any remote way related to Y.S.Babi. I said I was his son. He got up and shook my hands, with both his hands and his eyes turned moist. " What an upright police officer!" He exclaimed and told me a story. It seems during the 1956 riots when Gujarat was torn away from the erstwhile Bombay state, Ahmedbad was one helluva place to be in. He happened to be there, and in some notorious locality, he saw one police officer with a revolver in his hands, holding off a crowd of no less 212