New Delhi: IPS officer Vijay Raman was like the proverbial cat with nine lives, but in his tenth, a cruel illness swiftly took him away. This is how his wife, Veena Raman, describes him in the introduction of his posthumously published memoir, Did I Really Do All This?
“There were innumerable instances when Vijay’s life was in danger, and he miraculously escaped,” she wrote in the book, which was launched on 20 September at Delhi’s India International Centre (IIC), a year after 72-year-old Raman’s death following a battle with cancer.
More than just a book launch, the event was a gathering of Raman’s wife, friends, and colleagues, all coming together to share memories of the swashbuckling Madhya Pradesh-cadre cop.
With some laughs and a few misty eyes, the panellists—former Delhi Lt Governor Najeeb Jung, archaeologist and Padma Shri awardee KK Muhammed, retired IAS officer Dr Aruna Sharma, and former IPS officers Ravi Gupta and Shantanu Mukharji—recounted stories about Raman, from intense late-night operations to conversations over beer.
Raman had many feats to his credit—from leading a 14-hour encounter against the infamous dacoit Paan Singh Tomar in 1981, to rescuing residents as an assistant inspector general (IG) during the Bhopal gas tragedy, to nabbing Ghazi Baba, the mastermind of the 2001 Indian Parliament attack, as IG of the Border Security Force (BSF) in Kashmir in 2003.
But through their anecdotes, the panellists painted a vivid picture of the man behind the uniform.
“Other than being a hardcore cop, he had a great sense of humour and a multifaceted personality,” smiled retired police officer Mukharji, currently an advisor with the security nonprofit NatStrat.
Then, playfully, he added: “Let’s not forget, he was also a passionate lover,” referencing how Raman wooed his wife.
On the stage, a portrait of Raman sat on a table, with all the panellists offering flowers before taking their seats. After that, the fond memories—and even verses— flowed.
Loyalty beyond rank
The launch of Vijay Raman’s memoir didn’t begin with a list of his larger-than-life achievements. Instead, Najeeb Jung recited a poignant Majrooh Sultanpuri couplet, setting a reflective mood for the evening: Hamare baad iss mehfil mein aafsane bayan honge; bahare humko dhundhegi, na jaane hum kahan honge (After us, stories will be told in this gathering; the spring will search for us, not knowing where we will be).
As a Madhya Pradesh-cadre IAS officer, Jung not only worked with Raman, but also developed a close friendship with him.
“I am family to Raman, and therefore, it’s equally emotional for me to be sitting here. Not many people know that Vijay and I share the same date of birth and the same year of birth,” said Jung.
Raman’s career was legendary. After quelling several Chambal dacoits in the mid-1980s, he was appointed assistant director of the Prime Minister’s Special Protection Group (SPG), working closely with four Prime Ministers, from Rajiv Gandhi to Vishwanath Pratap Singh. Yet, despite his high-profile duties, he never forgot the people around him.
“He was always available for everyone and you could call him even at 2 am,” Jung said.
In Did I Really Do All This? Raman details one such incident from his tenure in the SPG.
One evening in October 1989, while chatting in the lawn of the PM’s residence, he noticed a vehicle outside the gate and discovered it was tea being delivered from a canteen for the SPG personnel at the site.
Surprised, Raman immediately instructed the canteen staff that there was no need for this and that tea must be provided from the PM’s kitchen to the “SPG boys”.
“Why should tea be brought from outside? The SPG was there to look after the PM. So, the PM must look after the SPG too,” he wrote in a chapter titled ‘Protecting four Prime Ministers’.
Even after retiring in 2011, Raman didn’t slow down. He joined a Special Investigating Team (SIT) in Bhopal to help probe the Vyapam exam and recruitment scam. Cancer eventually forced him to step back, but he stayed connected to his friends.
“Vijay would write me extremely detailed WhatsApp messages about what he was going through. He could barely sit, his back was giving up. But if you met him, he would sit with his friends for the whole evening,” Jung said.
A romantic streak
Raman was a hopeless romantic, which Mukharji brought to life with a funny, heartfelt excerpt from the book.
Before his IPS days, while working at an ordnance factory in Maharashtra, Raman fell in love with Veena, the daughter of his boss, RG Deolaliker. True to his bold nature, he went straight to Deolaliker with a proposal.
One day, while his boss was busy reading papers, Raman requested an appointment on a personal matter. Deolaliker, with his spectacles pushed up on his head, asked Raman what he could do for him. Taking a deep breath, Raman responded: “Sir, I have become interested in your daughter. Sir, I wish to marry your daughter!”
In response, Deolaliker asked if he had spoken to his daughter. Raman replied that he wanted to seek his permission first. As Mukharji read this moment aloud, the audience burst into laughter, and Veena, sitting in the front row, blushed.
The lovers, fortunately, were not star-crossed. Deolaliker had just one stipulation—he told Raman that if things worked out between him and his daughter, he would not give a single penny as dowry.
“I’ve heard that in your Malayali community, large dowries are paid to the groom’s family. I am against dowry on principle and will not give even a penny,” Deolaliker had said.
As the event came to a close, Veena Raman took a moment to thank everyone. She also spoke briefly about her husband and how difficult the past year had been for her.
“We were together for 40 years,” she said, her voice breaking as she adjusted her spectacles.
She closed with a touching couplet: “Tere bina zindagi mein koi shikwa toh nahi. Tere bina zindagi hai lekin, zindagi nahi” (Without you, I have no complaints with life. Without you, life exists, but it’s not life).
(Edited by Asavari Singh)