``People treat us like policemen. But the government looks at us with different eyes,'' he said. ``I have been a hawaldar for the last 10 years but I get half the salaries of what my counterparts in the police get,'' he complains.

Like all homeguards he gets Rs 93 per day whenever on duty. ``They call it financial help, not salary or bonus. We are supposed to be volunteers,'' he explains. To supplement his income, he works as a private security guard in a kothi. As he is in the traffic department, he only has a 6-hour shift from 3 pm to 9 pm. But his day begins early at 5 am with cooking for himself and then he takes a bus to the kothi where he works till 2:00 p.m.

His bitterness becomes clearer when he talks of his six daughters, four of whom are married. ``In my society, I have to give a lot to get my daughters married. The village comes to my aid but it is very difficult to manage with what I earn,'' he said.

Like the slain homeguard on Sunday, he too is from Bulandshahr and lives alone in Delhi and meets his family maybe once in a month. ``Ye to time pass hai,'' he said. Probably meaning that he was existing and not living.

He knows age is catching up with him for he is already 50. ``Every three years my service is renewed. Earlier it was not so scary when the time for renewal came but now we even have to pay higher-ups to get it renewed,'' he said.

He thinks he is the luckier of the lot. ``At least I have some farm-land to back me up. The others really have to work hard like selling vegetables in colonies or going for weekly markets.'' What he does not realise that he had signed a form saying that he will have his own vocation and will come on duty whenever called. It is a different story that they are called nearly 25 days in a month and have started to imagine that this is their regular job.

``We have been struggling for years to get our services regularised. We even had a dharna at Rajghat. They have told us they are talking to the Home Ministry,'' he said looking wistfully at the smart uniforms which the police had gone.

``We get four vardis but the quality is so bad that somebody will think we are beggars. I have bought this on my own,'' he said pointing to his khakis. ``No pension, no DA, no TA, what will the family of the killed Home Guard get?'' he wondered.

It is only in the end, he says hesitatingly, that one thing which he did not like was that any odd job needs to be done at the thana like fetching tea they always say ``Home Guard ko bhej do,'' (send the Home Guard) he said.

The same patrolling, the pickets and directing traffic. Why am I there and yet not there is a question he seemed to be repeating every minute.