For the eyes (and nose) of Veerappan only:
Respected, revered, feared…and tired Veerappanji,
Having come to learn through my media peers that you are on the lookout for Editors to negotiate surrenders and amnesty, besides securing for your bad self sorry, good self, a safe abode and guaranteed sumptuous meals for self and gang, I hereby humbly submit my CV…no, no, it does not mean Catch Veerappan, it reads as Curriculum Vitae.. no, not curry,.. well, forget it.
The reason why I seek your employment is that I had been an avid follower..no, not in the STF, but in the media.. of your escapades and it has always been my wish that I should associate with you some capacity, if not as a fellow poacher at least as your PR man, an ideologue or simply as the Information Minister of your large, unconquered domain.
That is when the good news reached me, like the fragrance of sandalwood, and I was elated beyond description. I felt as if I had spotted a horde of white tusked pachyderms when some fellow editors informed me that a vacancy had arisen in your esteemed gang owing to your showing the door to your favourite friend by telling him, Go, pal. I immediately decided to pounce on the opportunity as you would on sighting an ivory streak.
At the outset, I wish to state that there are a lot of similarities between our professions and proficiency in one could automatically be put to good effect in the other. For one, both involve holding the people to ransom, though you are a little more charitable in that you release them occasionally.
We don’t. Secondly, while you poach, we preach, But the outcome is the same. The people are the losers; they lose their wealth- public wealth in the form of sandalwood trees and private wealth as ransom payments, though they may deny it- to you while they lose their common sense and sensibilities to our non-stop assault.
And they inevitably pay up, incurable readers that they are. Of late, quite a few of us had made a fast buck, as you did selling ivory and sandalwood, just writing about your heroics. In fact, that is another point of similarity as we too have brought down quite an acreage of forests as you have, if one were to sit and count the reams and reams of newsprint spent on you.
Both of us like to overkill, if the head count of our victims is any indication. If you have about 150 scalps to your credit, we in the media should have collectively felled even more, and truly, neither of us suffer from any remorse or self-realisation. In fact, those are dangerous qualities that dampen the killer instincts, without which we are dead ducks fit only to be roasted over a campfire on a moonless night.
I am also well aware of your media savvy methods, as I have come to learn, in the course of my professional career. In fact, you would be glad to know that several schools of journalism have included in their syllabi a paper on Brigand Management, which teaches aspirants on how to get managed by brigands.
In due course, you would find a plethora of journos, ready to do your bidding, having qualified themselves as set about above. And with brigandry on the rise, both on and off the jungles, there is a parallel jump in the prospects of PR also. And who best to sell the gospel of brigands than the smooth, suave, slimy and silver-tongued Editors? You are indeed a new opening, a new vista and indeed a new era, away from the buzzworld of bandits. Editors would ever be grateful to you for that.
Having submitted my credentials, my conscience demands that I play fair, too. I personally suffer from some disqualifications as I presume you are still particular about some qualities that you expect in your negotiators. Firstly, I am yet to grow the bristiling whiskers which my predecessors were notorious for, but I can explain, Your moustache is characterestic and it is my fervent wish that there is none to challenge it, in size and density.
Also, if viewed in the profile on the small screen when acting our negotiations, it becomes difficult to tell a brigand from a journo, which once again is dangerous. After all, a poacher is a poacher and it is blasphemous to mistake or equate him to a lowly journo, who is at most an errand boy. This is my true concern.
But if you insist, on grounds of level playing field, I would immediately venture to grow one, though I may need a few tips from you on now to curl it up at the cheeks. On second thoughts, do not bother, I shall check notes with my fellow journos. However, I assure you that mine, as a mark of respect of your exalted moustache, sorry, status would always remain a few twirls lesser that yours.
Secondly, I am not as nimble-footed in the rough terrain of the thickets as the earlier incumbents. But I am sure my journalistic instincts which are much superior to the police instincts, are as sharp as theirs and will certainly guide me to your abode at will. As I am unlikely to be shadowed by the accommodative authorities, who think ignorance of bombs and brigands is bliss there should be no problem.
You would be glad to know that I am also inoculated against several legal hassles by a special vaccine called PFV which when expanded reads Press Freedom Vaccine. This special immunity bestows on us the unquestionable right to do anything under the sun, even meet with wanted criminals, act as their ambassadors and felicitate them in absentia, as happened a few months back.
Besides, such immunity to your trusted aide would also be a very handy tool in your hands as you would be in a position to do things which you cannot otherwise even dream of. For instance, you can use me as emissary to deliver crisp two to three-hour messages in cassettes which would be promptly broadcast to the CM who loves listening to it.
In fact, I am told that your sermons top the charts in the Secretariat and you have quite a fan following who are ever ready to dance to your beats. There is also another advantage. No one can tell whether I met you first or you met me. It is covered under the blanket immunity. In short, you can propose and I can dispose.
You would observe I am eminently qualified for the job on hand. If given an opportunity to serve, I am sure I can secure the elusive surrender and see that you are behind bars, I mean the window bars of a plush bungalow in the midst of civilisation, and I would also strive to clinch the much talked about amnesty. In case I fail to deliver the goods..,not sandalwood, I mean service..,I shall voluntarily offer myself as a hostage, in which case you are free to release me.
Also, instead of seeking amnesty to us and continue to languish in the safety of the thickets till the next Editor walks in.
Awaiting an early reply, through a cassette, of course. Till then, happy poaching. Cheerio.
Yours truly and fearfully,
Sd/
T.R. Jawahar
Encl:
1. Passport size photo, face hidden to maintain secrecy.
2. References from a former DGP who advises brigands on amnesty and an exminister, who hailed you as a hero.
3. A GO which says that Editors who meet you clandestinely would qualify as a govt emissary, and can meet you officially.
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