When somebody says ‘Spy’ you instantly remember James Bond. When someone says ‘Informer’ nothing comes to our mind. Spies are glorified while informer has a very boring ordinary existence. Why? Cause anybody can be an informer..you me everybody. I am specially talking about the police informers here. From the Autowala to the chaywala to the sabziwala…anyone can inform. And there are professional informers too…people who get paid by the police for informing about various upcoming sinister events. This is no less risky than spying. Informers get killed. They flirt with risk. But no one holds them in much esteem. Spies are more honorable. Unfortunately our world literature and society as a whole have never given these informers their due recognition. I have never come across a novel which has an informer as a protagonist. And even if the plot does have an informer he or she is killed and is just a character. Nothing else! I know you must be thinking why the hell I am so obsessed with an informer. Reason is today I saw one. Let me explain. My travel writer friend ran away early and I had to come back from my office all alone. No luxury car ride for me. I didn’t want to wait one hour in office for my Alto to come. So I decided to take the bus again. Last time I encountered a biri smoking crackpot tauji. And it gave me stuff to write. So this time decided to take the bus again hoping to encounter something interesting again. Besides budding writers need to travel more in public. So started walking towards the bus stand. Like every evening just opposite the Toefl coaching center were lot of police jeeps. And lot of policemen both in uniform and plain clothes were chatting with various persons. One of them at the other side of the road was taking cash from a truckwala. This is normal. I don’t know what happened to me but I decided to stop near them. I ordered a cup of tea and tried to overhear some conversations. And I was successful. A conversation was going on between a police and a shabbily dressed guy.
Police: You are sure!
Shabby Guy: Malik bola na! kal pakka wo ayega. Kam to karma hain usse. Kitna din aur gaon mein rahega. Parsu gari ke liye salim ko advance bhi diya.
Police: Pichli bar tune gadbad kiya. Time waste karwaya usne.
Shabby guy: Malik isbar khabar mein koi lafda hain hi nahi. Befikar rahiye.
Then the policeman left the guy alone and walked to the opposite side of the road where an animated conversation was going on between the policeman and the truckwala. The shabby guy waited for sometime and left. I was done with my tea and decided to proceed.
I am sure this guy was an informer. I wish I could have followed him. I wish I could know a little more about the conversation they were having. Who was the guy that will come tomorrow? A gangster? A robber? A carjacker? Or…my imagination created various images…everyone with a gun!
So what do you think? This informer is no less than a Spy isn’t it? The risk is no less than spying. But the credit these guys get are nil. God bless the informers. We are safe because of them. One more thing. Do not get so inspired that you start informing your best friend’s bedroom secrets to your close friends. That’s sabotage.
