Bus driver Prem Chand (name changed on request) doesn't want to come out in the open, not yet. He fears long hours at police stations and even longer sittings inside hot, stuffy city courts. He has been at both places once for ramming a scooterist.

But still, he has a story to tell.

Every Thursday, for the past five weeks, Chand would rush back home after dropping passengers on the last trip. For a view of the ``Thursday madness'' at Bina Ramani's Qutab Colonnade, adjacent to his old, dilapidated rented house. From the terrace, Chand and his three friends felt happy watching lifestyles, they otherwise read about in magazines.

``It looked good, the laughter, the food, the drinking, the dancing and flashy cars. The men and the women seemed to be from a different world,'' he says. ``But there was something different this time, it was unusually noisy. Also, there were just too many people.''

Chand and his friends kept watching. ``We saw some policemen too, and a white Ambassador car with a red-light on top. (Chand did not know then that the occupant was Joint Commissioner of Police (New Delhi Range) Y.S. Dadwal). But then we have seen policemen here earlier too. I know the constables, they are from Mehrauli police station.''

Around 12.30 Chand and his friends took a 20-minute break: dinner consisting of rotis, dal and vegetables. ``We returned to the terrace once again, smoked cigarettes and then prepared to turn in for the night around 1.30 a.m. People there were beginning to leave, and the music was not loud any more.''

Chand was the first to hear the police sirens, about an hour later. Sleepy-eyed, he walked up to the edge of the terrace and saw people running up and down the road. There were more police cars soon. And the noise grew louder, but this time there was no music. ``There was this man down the road, shouting goli chali hain yaar, goli chali hain. Two more persons ran towards him, and then they went inside. In fact, everyone was rushing inside.''

And getting together in small groups, at the same place, where people had been dancing and drinking barely two hours earlier. ``Suddenly, there was an eerie silence. There was no one outside, except a home guard. He was tapping his lathi on the road and was walking up towards the gate of our house. We lost him for a minute, because a tree blocks our view of the gate from the terrace.''

Adds Chand: ``Then we saw a car roaring down the road. It was a black Tata Safari, the home guard was attempting an useless chase. A Tata Sierra followed moments later. I ran down the stairs and found that the Tata Safari had disappeared from outside my gate. I didn't have the guts to go further. I didn't want to face another round of harassment from the police. I still don't.''