Travel Diaries: A Visit to the Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel Police Museum – Part 1

The gap between what’s promised online and the on-ground reality.

Disclaimer 

• Please read the full blog before jumping to conclusions. Context matters!

• If you’re in a hurry or prone to jumping to conclusions, just make sure you’re jumping to the right part. Read the second part of the blog here. 😀

The first time one of my friends mentioned the Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel Police Museum, I was baffled. A renowned police museum situated in Kollam? My hometown, Kollam? And not just anywhere, but near the Kollam railway station, the same place I’ve used for my commute for years? How did I miss that?

I checked the Kerala Tourism and  DTPC websites’ links to the museum, and sure enough, there it was, with captivating images and the promise of a well-curated space.

“A unique museum showcasing the history of Indian law enforcement, featuring historic artifacts, a Martyrs’ Gallery, and insights into the evolution of policing.”

I realized that, like most people, I too have blind spots in my hometown, and added the place to my to-visit list. 

🧭 How to Reach? 

🚂 It’s located opposite Kollam Railway Station in Kollam, Kerala, India.

🚌 Or, from Kollam KSRTC stand or Chinnakada, take a Kottiyam(or Iravipuram)-bound bus, and get off at the Railway Station stop (Approximate Fare: ₹10–13).

(Additional details: The museum is situated inside the compound of the East Police Station, Kollam.) 

• The Police Museum was inaugurated on 10th May 1999 by B.S. Sastry IPS.
• The statue of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel was unveiled on 25th January 2006.

Main Attractions

• A Statue of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel 
• A Martyr’s Gallery
• Police Arms & Artifacts from 18th & 19th C

🎟 No entry fee
(Additional details: Initially, the museum charged an admission fee, but it was later removed.)

7 May 2025 – My First Trip

Amidst the rising tensions between India and Pakistan following the recent Pahalgam terrorist attack, worrisome discussions about the Centre’s decision to conduct civil defence mock drills across 244 districts in India (including all 14 districts of Kerala), panicked declarations of “Yudham, yudham, mahayudham” (War, war, great war), and the breaking news about Operation Sindoor, I boarded a bus to Chinnakada to visit the Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel  Police museum.

Though the restraint India showed during Operation Sindoor was reassuring, striking only nine high-value terrorist facilities belonging to the notorious organisations Jaish-e-Mohammed (JeM) and Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT), located in Pakistan and Pakistan-occupied Jammu and Kashmir (PoJK), the possibility of retaliation and an all-out war between India and Pakistan still loomed in the air.

I couldn’t help but think about the worst-case scenario of a barbaric war and extremists taking over one or both countries. The visuals of Taliban-ruled Pakistan in Malala’s writings, the genocide in the Gaza Strip in Motaz Azaiza’s photographs, the plight of the Yazidis in Nadia Murad’s memories, Iran in Marjane Satrapi’s graphic novel Persepolis, the aftermaths of wars portrayed in Ghibli Studio movies like The Grave of the Fireflies, the heartbreaking World War photos from Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and a million other snapshots flashed through my mind in a fraction of a second.

I don’t want India or Pakistan to start a war or to become war-torn countries. But I know that tolerating intolerance, communal hatred, terrorism, and extremism is detrimental to the welfare, progress, and long-term peace of a country.

I got down at Chinnakada but didn’t board a Kottiyam-bound bus to the railway station stop. As I have been through these places multiple times in the past, I knew an alternate walkable route to the railway station.

Chinnakada is a busy junction where 5 city roads and one National highway interconnect at a traffic roundabout. If you walk past the Chinnakada clock tower and the bus stop, you will see a level crossing on your left.

I waited at the level crossing for a few minutes as the gatekeeper, a lady, lifted the gate and let the vehicles and pedestrians through. When you cross the railway tracks and walk straight ahead, you will be on YMCA Road. As you continue, you will see the YMCA building on your right, followed by the Kollam Public Library, also on the right, and the District Police Training Centre on your left.

When I reached the first turning to the left that led to the railway station, I asked an autorickshaw chetan for directions to the museum. He creased his eyebrows in doubt for a second, then smirked at me and said, “Moley, just walk ahead; it’s on the left side. To be honest, there isn’t much to see. After the first few years, people stopped caring.”

I thanked him and continued my walk. I know museums or art galleries don’t draw crowds like movie theatres or religious festivals in India. I assumed it would be empty, with maybe just one or two bored staff or security personnel, possibly even covered with some dust and cobwebs. 

As I walked through the side road, I saw the Pranavam theatre on the right, rows of motorbikes neatly arranged at its front. Mohanlal’s Thudarum was playing there. And, on the left, I saw the board of the police museum. 

Nothing prepared me for what I saw there.  

No wonder I had missed this place before, I thought. The paint on the nameboard had peeled off; only a few letters were still visible. The museum’s rusted gate was chained and locked, weeds had taken over the entire structure. A few corroded vehicles were abandoned within the compound. The building itself looked like a forgotten ruin. 

I looked around in confusion. The few people who were around didn’t seem to care. I took another lap around the road and returned to the spot again after a few minutes. Now the coast was clear. I snapped a few pictures. I couldn’t hide my disappointment. I walked to the bus stop, gulped down some water from my water bottle, got on the next Chavara bus, and took a ₹15 ticket back home.

Something didn’t add up in my mind. The place has a ⅘ rating on Google reviews, and I did see a few comments from history enthusiasts raving about the place. But as I scrolled down, I found some sour 1-star reviews from one or two years back complaining about how the place is not well-maintained and about the lack of guides/staff. 

Some complained that the staff closed the building by 12 noon, even though the online timings showed the place was open until 6 pm. There were a few articles online complaining about the lack of funds and neglect of senior authorities, which led to the degradation of the museum. You can read them here: Manorama Online or NewIndianExpress.

Still, the images I saw online didn’t match the building I saw. And the fact that I visited the place after 2 pm, not before 12 noon, also nagged my mind. I don’t want to write a half-truth.

To be continued…

Please read the second part of the blog here. 

Author’s Notes:

~ All content on this blog is the intellectual property of the author. © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

~ This blog is part of a series exploring my travels through my hometown, Kollam, a beautiful district in Kerala, India. You can read more posts from this series here: Kollam | Kerala | India.