Writing an obituary churns emotion from deep within, inseparably tied to memory. The passing of W. R. Marbaniang has stirred such feelings in me.
Bah Bill, as I fondly called him, is gone far too soon. When I first heard of his passing, I dismissed it as a cruel joke. I simply did not believe it. I visited his home today, and even now, I struggle to accept that he is no more.
He coached me in living a life of real purpose — with strength, discipline, and a firm belief in keeping the heart fit. He walked miles every day, a pedometer strapped around his arm.
Anyone who crossed his path was certain to receive a quick, on-the-go lesson on the importance of cardio. Over time, I came to understand that this, for him, was the very mecca of being a man.
It is difficult — indeed, all too difficult — to encapsulate the essence of Bah Bill in the few words that a piece like this allows, weighed down as it is with memories that are anything but fragile.
In 2006, I was serving as Deputy Inspector General of Police. Bah Bill was our Director General of Police.
One morning, a distraught and dishevelled father sought to see me urgently. Once admitted, he broke down. “Sir,” he sobbed, “my underage, college-going daughter has been missing for the last fifteen days.
Can you help me find her? With every passing day, I am losing hope.”
We discussed the case and soon learned that the girl had run away with her instructor.
A plan was drawn up, and by early afternoon the same day, we tracked her to Guwahati, where she was heading to Delhi aboard the Rajdhani Express. Time was of the essence.
We assembled a team of officers, worked out the logistics, and calculated the amount required to fly them to Delhi that very day, as the train was due to arrive only the following morning.
I rushed to DGP W. R. Marbaniang….Bah Bill. Intuitive and intelligent as he was, I narrated the entire story and requested the necessary funds.
Without hesitation, he approved the plan. The cash was handed over immediately. “Go ahead,” he said. “And good luck.”
The team caught the first available flight to Delhi. We had the seat numbers. The officers lay in wait amid the chaos of the crowded railway station.
When the train arrived and passengers poured out, a relative identified the girl. She was rescued. The story ended well.
Today, she is happily married.
That rescue was possible because Bah Bill gave his immediate go-ahead, and his trust. A DGP of substance carries a macro vision, rooted in service to the people.
Those words retain their relevance even today, guiding the healthy functioning of the vast megastructure that is the police department.
Bah Bill was that officer — a man of vision and broad-mindedness, with a heart of gold. The story I have shared is but one among many.
I shall miss you deeply. So will my son, Yuvraj. You were heroes to each other.
Rest in peace, Sir.
Bishnu Ram Rana, retired as Additional DGP of Meghalaya Police
