Meet the Only Female Arms Dealer in Uttar Pradesh

“I feel like ‘Bigg Boss ghar mein jaaon, aur yeh jo sab log BC karte hain, unko sudhaar kar niklo’ (going into the Bigg Boss house, and fixing all these people who keep abusing),” Romila Singh tells me over a cup of tea. I reply, saying that people who go to Bigg Boss to teach others a lesson don’t usually fare well. To which she snaps back, “No one can teach them a lesson like I can. Jisne ek gaali di, usko badle mein chaar gaali, aur jisne ungli dikhai, usko badle mein revolver dikha denge (The ones who abuse once will get abused four times, and if someone points a finger at me, I’ll point a gun back at them).”

We are sitting in a house in Hazratganj, Lucknow, about 100 kilometers away from 48-year-old Neelam Romila Singh’s arms dealership called Neelam Arms Store. One of the many armouries in Kanpur’s Gun Bazaar, it’s special because it’s the only arms dealership in Uttar Pradesh run by a woman. And, Romila Neelam Singh is no ordinary woman.

The vocation wasn’t that far a stretch for Singh. Luckily, she had always been into guns. She loves the Mouser pistol, and currently owns a Mark III .32 NP Bore. “Ye humein khoon se hi mila hai (It’s in my blood),” she says of her love for arms. Her father was a hunter with a license to kill man-eaters. He was contracted by the government to kill them during emergency situations and young Romila enjoyed playing with the equipment that lay around the house while she was growing up. “I wanted to accept a challenge and do what had not been done before,” she says.

She loves challenges. A lot. Her current side-gig involves her working as a fixer between NGOs in Kanpur and the local government to get funding for kids suffering from blood cancer. She was a member of The Girl Education Committee of National Commission for Minorities Educational Institution from 2007 to 2011. She even received the Virangana Award from the Prime Minister of India, for saving the life of a guy being robbed in a car in Noida in 2011. Singh has also tried to convert her social work into politics. “People told me that the work I do with kids—that’s politics.Zyada power hoga toh hum log zyada logon ki madad kar sakenge (If you have more power, you can help more people).” She got a ticket to contest from Govindnagar in Kanpur from Mulayam Singh’s Samajwadi Party in 2012. At the last minute, it went to someone else, and her dreams were destroyed.

Singh is unfortunately used to losing things in her life prematurely. Her husband died five years into their marriage in 1992, leaving her short of money and three mouths to feed. She started teaching, and even worked as a store manager for sewing machine manufacturers Usha International. Struggling for money, she went to Mulayam Singh for advice, who told her, “Open a weapons dealership. It will help you when our government falls.” She went to a friend, Rajiv Shukla, who operates two dealerships in Farukkabad for help, and Shukla became her champion, helping her power through government licensing norms.

It took two years and multiple rejections until she could open her dealership on Meston Road in 2007. Her two sons, 24 and 26 years old, help her run the store today. And her daughter is into modelling and is currently a judge on the TV show Dance Kanpur Dance. “Jo karna chahen unko karna chahiye (They should do whatever they want to do). I don’t tell them what to do,” she says.

In modern parlance, Meston Road is a fucking sausage fest. But no one messes with Romila though—perhaps because she also always carries her Mark III with her. People are also very aware of her connection to the Samajwadi Party. “ Koi panga nahi leta humse (Nobody messes with me),” she says with a laugh. She doesn’t believe she’s unusual in any way, just because she’s a woman running a shop selling arms. For her—it’s just another day at work. “Aaj ki naari antriskh mein jaa chuki hai. Gun shop chalana kya badhi baat hai? (Today’s woman has gone to the moon. Why is it a big deal to run a gun shop?)” She doesn’t even like Nirbheek, the gun made specially for Indian women to protect themselves. Her take? The barrel is too long. But its irrelevance is more deep seated than its appearance or efficacy. “It’s a patriarchal society. Even in homes where women have licenses, it’s the men who wield weapons, so even issuing licenses to women. This won’t change their lives,” she says.

Romila now is working on building her business up after years of lull. We spoke to multiple gun dealers in the area, and like her, most of them have been struggling ever since the government stopped issuing new licenses. Now she’s hyped up, as rumours of Uttar Pradesh re-issuing gun license is doing the rounds. She’s even ready to order 10 new pistols from her supplier in Pune—something she’s never had to do earlier.

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