The role of private detectives always intrigued me as a journalist. I heard about a private agency in Dadar, Mumbai, and decided to meet its boss.
The guy proved to be enterprising. He invited me to his house. I knocked at the gate. And the door opened instantly. But guess what. There were two huge Alsatian dogs, black and grey in colour. They were looking so ferocious it seemed like they could reduce me to pulp in minutes. As I stood almost pissing in my pants, the boss passed a loving command to the beasts.
“Sit down, Johnny.”
I peeped in to see the gentleman smiling. “Don’t worry. They won’t harm you,” he smiled.
What sit down? Already one was licking my leg and another was reaching for my shoulder. OMG. I was sweating profusely despite the AC.
Somehow, I managed to chat and get a good story. He mentioned about how a gang would approach innocent people and tell them there was crow shit or some muck on their shirts. After diverting their attention, they would pick the victims’ pockets and escape. His group helped the police arrest the gang.
He presented me a thick stick made of special plastic. I had placed it at my home as a safety weapon for my wife when I went on night duty. One early morning, when I returned, my wife opened the door on hearing the bell, but was holding that stick ready to attack.
Thank God, she did not.
Given a chance she would is another matter.