KRISHNAGIRI: On an afternoon at the Hosur Town police station, the relatives of a suspect sat in a clean, well-lit waiting hall, unwrapping hotel parcels and sharing food among themselves. Kids dozed on plastic chairs, elderly women sipped water from the purifier, and a family who had travelled nearly 20 km stretched their legs in relief.
A few years ago, the same group would have been standing under the scorching sun or huddling beneath the old tamarind tree outside the station — dusty, tired, and with no access to drinking water. The change was not part of any government scheme.
It was the idea of one police officer. Inspector R Nagaraj, currently serving at Hosur Town police station, is the man behind the new waiting hall — a modest but dignified space with seating, drinking water, and toilets. He approached well-wishers, convinced local sponsors, and pulled together Rs 8 lakh to build the facility, including a shed and chairs, solely so that people visiting the station would be treated with basic comfort.
For Nagaraj, the effort is not new. It has become a personal mark he leaves wherever he is posted, a small but lasting improvement that tells the public someone cared. In every station he has served, something physical changes: a shed rises, a water purifier hums, a toilet is added, and exhausted petitioners finally find a place to sit.
Born into a humble family in Harur, Dharmapuri, Nagaraj joined the police as a 2008 batch sub-inspector. Over the next 17 years, he served across Krishnagiri, Dharmapuri, and Salem, and in every posting, he carried with him an understanding of what distressed petitioners go through once they step into a police station.
At Denkanikottai station in 2022, the visitors mostly came from tribal and rural areas. It was common to see people waiting on the roadside, and elderly petitioners standing for hours with no toilet in sight. Nagaraj helped raise Rs 5 lakh to build a shed that could accommodate at least 50 people, along with drinking water and toilet facilities.
At Yercaud station, perched in a hilly terrain where cold winds whip through, he constructed fencing, a small waiting shed, and a drinking water point worth Rs 3 lakh. At SIPCOT police station, during an earlier posting as an SI, he built a shed for two-wheelers, a simple utility but one that finally brought order to chaotic parking.
The pattern remained consistent: no official funding, no public recognition, just quiet infrastructure built through sponsorship and goodwill. “Many police stations I worked in had very limited facilities,” Nagaraj said. “People come to us when they face problems. The least we can do is give them a chair and some water.”
His empathy grew deeper after a tragedy. In June 2016, while serving in Krishnagiri, Nagaraj and his colleague, head constable Munusamy were attacked during an attempt to arrest a chain-snatching accused. Munusamy died, and Nagaraj narrowly survived with severe injuries. Even today, he undergoes treatment for the damage the assault caused.
The incident, he says, changed how he viewed policing. “It reminded me how unpredictable our job is. If we can make people’s experience at the station even slightly better, then we should,” he said.
At Hosur Town police station today, the waiting hall stands quietly beside the main building, cool, shaded, and always occupied. There is no plaque with his name on it, no sign declaring who funded it. Only the steady flow of people who find a place to rest while waiting for enquiries.
Sometimes, when the afternoon heat presses down on the tamarind tree outside, a few long-time residents recall how they once stood there for hours tired, before one officer decided that public dignity shouldn’t depend on how much money you have. Strictness often overshadows sensitivity in policing, yet the spaces Nagaraj builds become small acts of stubborn kindness, physical gestures that rewrite the script: a chair that says “you matter,” a roof that says “you’re seen,” a glass of water that says “you’re human.”
(Edited by Dinesh Jefferson E)