Dear reader,
The privileges of power know no bounds. And the police, so often accused of misusing power themselves, find themselves at the receiving end of power pranks whenever cases involving politicians arise.
Consider last week’s incident: three boxes of samosas and cakes, intended for Himachal Pradesh Chief Minister Sukhvinder Singh Sukhu, mysteriously vanished—only to be discovered in the possession of his own security staff. The response? A full-fledged CID probe.
The affair took an even more bizarre turn when a senior CID official noted in his report that all persons named had acted in an “anti-government manner” by preventing the snacks from reaching the VVIPs. This pronouncement came after a DSP-rank officer had already conducted an investigation.
The snack scandal, which unfolded during the Chief Minister’s visit to the CID office in Shimla on October 21, predictably caught media attention. The Opposition BJP in Himachal Pradesh couldn’t resist taking a bite (or byte). Leader of Opposition and former Chief Minister Jairam Thakur pointed out the obvious: “The opposition hasn’t eaten those samosas—those who were served them were part of the government. So how could this be anti-government?”
Indeed, the samosa affair proved less than savoury for Sukhu.
A visibly embarrassed Congress government scrambled to defend the Chief Minister, claiming he never ordered any inquiry and that any probe would be an internal CID matter. When questioned about the political row over the samosa investigation, Sukhu deflected blame on the media, insisting that while the CID was investigating “misbehaviour”, the media was fixated on samosas.
Few were convinced. After all, you can’t eat your cake and have it too.
This isn’t the first time a politician has earned bad press over bizarre behaviour, nor is it the first time police and administration have prioritised such trivial cases while serious matters pile up awaiting attention.
The power push is indeed a problem, emanating from all political parties—but especially from whichever holds the reins of government.
Take the 2023 Netflix film Kathal: A Jackfruit Mystery, which perfectly captured this absurdity. The comedy follows a spirited officer tracking down two prized jackfruits stolen from a politician’s garden in Madhya Pradesh. Starring Vijay Raaz as the MLA and Sanya Malhotra as the cop, the film had audiences howling with laughter—while reminding them that truth is often stranger than fiction.
The saga of Uttar Pradesh’s missing buffaloes remains fresh in public memory. In 2014, Azam Khan—a 10-term MLA from Rampur Sadar and later its Lok Sabha MP in 2019—drew sharp criticism when he dispatched senior policemen to track down seven buffaloes that had vanished from his farmhouse. The bovine brigade was eventually recovered after days of intensive search operations by State police, led by none other than the local Superintendent of Police and aided by sniffer dogs. The aftermath? Three cops were suspended for dereliction of duty.
The BJP seized this opportunity to launch a blistering attack on Khan, pointing out the stark irony: officers face suspension over stolen buffaloes while rape cases languish without action. Social media joined the fray, sarcastically suggesting that UP’s government might soon offer Z-category security to buffaloes while humans perish in riots and cold waves.
But the animal adventures didn’t end there. In 2016, UP police found themselves hunting for BJP MP Ram Shankar Katheria’s missing Labrador, Kallu, in Agra. By 2021, they faced another peculiar challenge: locating a “black mare with a white face” belonging to a district Congress President in Rampur. The Congress leader, apparently inspired by the buffalo episode, demanded his “family member” receive equal police attention.
That same year in Gwalior’s Dabra district, police were set scrambling when Congress MLA Imrati Devi’s dog Bruzo disappeared. She promptly announced a Rs.11,000 reward and filed a formal complaint. This was Bruzo’s second vanishing act within a year—last time, police had located him within 48 hours. Both incidents set off political controversies as the MLA pressured police and took to social media to find her wayward pet.
In 2015, Delhi police had an even more bizarre challenge: locating Delhi Minister Somnath Bharti’s Labrador, “Don”. The stakes were higher this time—the Minister’s wife, Lipika Mitra, had alleged Bharti had unleashed the dog to attack her when she was pregnant in 2013. Police struggled to recover the canine “wanted” as part of a domestic violence investigation, eventually conducting tests to verify if Don had indeed turned attacker. He was found later and the same year a local court gave Don a clean chit in the case. Don passed away in July 2018.
But the parade of missing animals continued. In December 2020, Telangana Congress MLA Jagga Reddy escalated his case of six missing cows directly to the Director General of Police. In March 2019, then BJP MLA Rajesh Mishra’s complaint about two stolen cows prompted the detention of 14 people within 24 hours, with 10 police units and a dog squad joining the search. Perhaps most remarkably, when former Congress MLA Pratap Mandloi’s three buffaloes went missing in 2018, an astounding force of 130 police personnel from six stations was deployed. The buffaloes, apparently unimpressed by this show of force, simply wandered home two days later.
It’s not just pets—even innocuous fruits have fallen prey to political whims, with police once again caught in the crossfire.
In Bihar, 2015 brought a peculiar fruit saga when Jitan Ram Manjhi (currently Cabinet Minister for MSME) discovered, to his utter shock, that the State government had deployed forces to protect mangoes, litchis, and jackfruits at 1 Anne Marg in Patna. Manjhi, still residing in his official bungalow after being forced to resign as Chief Minister by Nitish Kumar, found himself in a bitter war of words over fruit. He claimed the security detail was meant to prevent a Dalit leader from enjoying the fruits. Nitish Kumar, in his inimitable style, dismissed the allegation: “Mujhe awam ki chinta hai, unhe aam ki chinta hai” (I’m concerned about the common people [aam aadmi], he’s concerned about mangoes [aam]).
The latest episode in this political theatre unfolded this week at a BJP election rally in Jharkhand’s coal belt constituency of Nirsa, starring none other than Bollywood-actor-turned-politician Mithun Chakraborty’s missing purse.
From the stage came an earnest appeal: “Nirsa’s culture is not like that. Whoever has taken away the purse is requested to return the purse to Mithun da.” The embarrassed party later clarified that the purse wasn’t stolen but merely misplaced—and was subsequently found. At least this time the police were spared their usual wild goose chase, but that doesn’t stop one wondering why the police aren’t equally nimble when addressing common citizens’ problems. Why don’t those cases come to a satisfactory end?
Politicians, too, raise these questions—but only when targeting opponents. Do officers jump through hoops to secure prized postings or are they made to jump simply to save their jobs?
I’m reminded of acclaimed filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock’s words: “I am not against the police, I am just afraid of them.” In India’s case, perhaps the police might say the same about their political masters.
If you have any missing goat or missing cat story to tell, share them with me. Perhaps we can together find a sympathetic policeman.
Until the next newsletter,
Anand Mishra | Political Editor, Frontline
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