With profound sorrow, we bid farewell to Ajay Raj Sharma, a towering figure in Indian police, whose wisdom, courage, and integrity shaped generations of police officers. He was a man of action, a strategist and a fearless leader, yet those who had the privilege of knowing him closely will remember him just as much for his kindness, humility and deeply humane approach to leadership.
It was in the late eighties that I had the opportunity to interact with Ajay Raj Sharma professionally. He was at police headquarter at Prayagraj as Deputy Inspector General of Police. As the Superintendent of Police (city), I faced numerous challenges in crime management and I often sought advice from him. He was more than just a senior officer – he was a guide and mentor to me. With his vast field experience, he was an icon for younger officers, always approachable and willing to share his wisdom. There was never an air of superiority about him; he made young officers feel at ease, encouraging them to share their thoughts without hesitation. I recall, in 1995, when I was appointed SSP Kumbh Mela in Prayagraj, I sought his counsel on several key concerns. One particular piece of advice remains vivid in my memory : when I raised the issue of volunteers struggling to remain in the freezing waters of Sangam while assisting pilgrims during the main bathing days, he suggested a simple yet effective solution – using rubber tubes from light vehicles to help them stay afloat and withstand the cold. Such was his brilliance – combining practical wisdom with a deep understanding of real-world policing.
His advice was never mere instructions—it came with a warmth that made one feel supported. Whether discussing police strategy, handling large crowds, or simply understanding the nuances of leadership, he spoke with the wisdom of experience. He had an incredible ability to listen without interruption, absorbing every detail before offering his thoughts. His words were never dismissive, never hurried, but always measured, thoughtful and deeply reassuring.
As Commandant of the 11th Battalion PAC, Sitapur, while he was PAC Chief in Lucknow, I saw another side of his leadership—his belief in the power of learning and growth. He encouraged innovation and was always open to new ideas. When I proposed conducting in-house training for platoon commanders, he immediately approved, recognizing its potential to enhance the skills and confidence of junior field officers. His trust in his officers was remarkable—he believed in empowering them rather than micromanaging and this is what made him so deeply respected.
Beyond his professional brilliance—whether leading the Special Task Force (STF) against organized crime, heading Delhi Police during some of its most challenging times, or later commanding the Border Security Force (BSF)—what truly made him stand out was his humane approach to leadership.
He was a man who never raised his voice unnecessarily, nor did he believe in intimidating juniors. He led with a quiet strength that earned him admiration and loyalty. His subordinates did not fear him—they respected and revered him. He had a knack for remembering the names of constables, knowing their families, and making personal inquiries about their well-being. He understood that a police force was not just about ranks and orders, but about people—people who needed encouragement, support, and a sense of belonging.
He carried himself with dignity and grace, never indulging in self-promotion, never seeking the limelight. He found joy in mentoring young officers, offering guidance without making them feel small. His ability to connect with people extended beyond his colleagues; he had a genuine compassion for victims of crime, for the poor, and for those who often went unheard. Even in the toughest of situations, he remained calm, composed, and deeply humane.
Despite his enormous responsibilities in high-profile cases, he never allowed the weight of his position to harden him. He remained soft-spoken, always approachable, and a man of few but powerful words. He was never impatient, never dismissive—whether it was a junior officer, a journalist, or a distressed citizen seeking help, he listened with the same patience and attentiveness.
As we remember Ajai Raj Sharma, we do not just mourn the loss of a legendary police officer—we mourn the loss of a true gentleman. A leader who inspired not through authority, but through kindness. A strategist who understood that real strength lay not in dominance, but in empathy. A mentor who believed that the greatest legacy one can leave behind is not just a record of achievements, but the lives one has touched.
We will miss his wisdom.
We will miss his leadership.
But most of all, we will miss the man who led with his heart as much as his mind.
