Mumbai: The first time I met Himanshu Roy was at the Naigaon police grounds, at a parade to pay respects to those who had died in the 26/11 Mumbai terror attacks and showcase the police force’s new modern weaponry. He was then the city’s Joint Commissioner of Police (Law and Order), and I was a cub reporter eager to make a mark. Instead, he left an impression on me: the mark of his fingers lingered red on my hand for some time after we shook hands.
The bone-crushing handshake was no surprise; I had heard from seniors in the profession of this officer the media were crazy about because of his muscular build and good looks. That physique was no genetic accident: in a note in a book about Ashok Kamte, who was killed in the terror attacks, Roy wrote that he had been a lanky young man, but had been inspired to bulk up by his friend and fellow officer.
The first proper conversation I had with him was a few years later, after he took over as the Mumbai’s Crime Branch chief. When I called to request the appointment, he asked about the story, fixed a time, and ended the call with “Okay, my friend, god bless you.” Over the years, that invocation of the divine was usually the end to all our calls.
Roy Sir, as I called him, was unfailingly patient with me, always helpful rather than heaping scorn on my mistakes, as some other officers have.
Only once did that patience fail. I wanted confirmation of a rumour of a terrorist on the loose; I had multiple deadlines, and called late in the day, undoubtedly after every crime reporter in the city had asked the same question. I got a slightly exasperated “You could have just sent me an SMS, yaar . Learn to respect my time and yours.”
He also gave me the biggest compliment of my professional life: when he was ATS chief, I had been pestering him for a meeting for nearly a week despite knowing he was busy. “You’re a tough one,” he said. “You never give up. I like that about you.” I jumped into the gap: “Does that mean we’re meeting?” He laughed, then said we would meet for sure in the coming week, and, “God bless you, my friend.”
That meeting didn’t happen. And shortly after, he went on leave, for reasons I learnt much later.
God bless you, Roy Sir.
