Monday, May 28, 2007

Celebs, lay off the task of deciding innocents at least!

Let me do the P.S. first this once: Got tons of people writing to me about the fact that Nokia is a Finnish company, for a previous post of mine. Yes, true. My oversight, sorry and thanks. One particular person wrote the same comment twice and then, when both the comments got deleted by some systemic error before getting posted, wrote for the third time-- anonymously again. WHOEVER YOU ARE, THANK YOU. Your point is taken this time as you can see. :-)

Two days ago, I found this blind man struggling his way up the steps at a suburban railway station. When I offered a hand, he said eagerly, ``Ma'am, I would like to buy some mangoes outside if you can help me choose.'' Loaded with mangoes, we ambled to his bus stop.
On the way, he told me he'd lost his eyesight in the bomb blasts of 1993. He was in Satyam building at Worli when he was hit by a colossal cement slab of the building on his head. ``My skull cracked up and before I fell unconscious, I saw my colleague collapsing under a wall,'' he told me.
``Ma'am,'' he paused reflectively, ``these people (the culprits) are now being given five years, ten years in jail... what's that compared to what we've lost? We'll suffer all our lives, na?'' he said. He'd lost his job and his earnings were down to one-tenth.
Before I could ask him about his family or about what he did, a bus came along and he boarded.
That brought back memories of celebs giving the clean chit to Sanjay Dutt. He is innocent, his family and friends have declared. If they had to meet the blind man's family, would they feel as sympathetic about him?
Do these people know that a top cop had collected mounds of evidence against him and that he was just about to arrest him when he was sidelined? I know a lot of what happened that night when he came to be in possession of those arms but my lips are sealed. I cannot write in public what has not been produced in evidence before the court. But let it be said that he is not the doodh ka dhoola hua sant that he is being made out to be.
In any case, are they even aware that the court has held him guilty of at least the least possible charge-- that of possessing banned arms? Are they saying that there is some mistake, that the arms were planted on him or that the person possessing them was actually the duplicate but not the super hero (ugh!)?
Just for their information, even he is not saying that. Wish these vacuous men and women would stop talking through their hat... and a bigger wish for us media wallahs to stop treating their foot-in-the-mouths like the last word in divinity.
Check out all the protestations of innocence made on behalf of this man called Anand Jon. A lowly, nose-to-the-grind reporter like me would never have heard of this high society fashion designer like him had it not been for some celebs ganging up on a limp, pimply front-page pull-out appointing him as the soul of goodness and all things holy and vouching for how he could never have raped those half a dozen women he was alleged to have.
Well! Why not let the court decide, guys! Leave justice to the judiciary, what?
On second thoughts, walk along the street to see how the other half lives and you might find some people fumbling their way to bus stops, living on half a dole, and haggling for five-penny mangoes. All because they happened to step out on a day when some men had other plans. Yet, there's no one to speak for them. Their rights, I suppose, are not human enough for the zhollawallahs or those superior earthlings to worry about. They get their Rs 500 a dozen mangoes without having to set one pedicured foot out of the door, don't they?

Thursday, May 10, 2007

For years, friends have been asking me to narrate some of the memorable moments of my career. I have hesitated because there are far too many to write about and I would hate picking a few. Nonetheless, here's a beginning.

It took me four months to write in April 2006 a full page story on how our MLAs claim medical reimbursements. Using the Right to Information Act, I procured about 400 pages of material over several months. On perusal, I discovered some serious problems: an MLA and his family can claim medical expenses till the day they die, even if he is elected for only half a day, unlike government servants who are stripped of all medical cover the moment they quit or retire.
There is a ceiling prescribed in the rulebook to claim medical rembursements but the government has powers to approve higher amounts in special cases. I found most cases exceeded the ceiling and the government blissfully approved all of them as `special cases'.
I started working on the story after a tip-off from a honest officer who happened to hear the CM complaining once about the number of scamster MLAs claiming fictitious bills. ``He cannot afford to antagonise any of these fellows. So, he signs on the dotted line,'' the officer had told me about our head of government. In one case, he'd told me, one MLA or ex-MLA had claimed Rs 50 lakh though regrettably, I could not get any written proof of this particular claim.
What I did get was a scandal. Many ex-MLAs, particularly from Vidarbha, claimed consistent amounts every month, just well below the prescribed limit. So, each month, they had one family member falling sick and spending approximately the same amount as the other family member next month.
Even the documentation was unbelievably pathetic. The bills were sent to the pay and accounts office which simply paid up. This department had no details of the particulars of the health problems such as the name of the patient, hospital, disease, etc. These details were not consolidated by anybody. The actual submissions were simply stocked up at the accountant-general's office, I was told.
So, there was no way of figuring out whether the claims and amounts were genuine unless you were game to spending a year in the accountant-general's office, poring over each claim and pondering over its veracity.
On the basis of my story, an activist, Bhagwanji Raiyani, filed a PIL in the Bombay high court. The high court recently issued summons to all parties concerned. The case is on. For more, watch this space.

--------------------------
Talking of PILs, an amusing experience followed a story I'd done in 2004 on the electronic voting machines. I'd learnt that EVMs made it possible for a political party to find out the pattern of voting in a particular area. Each EVM has a code that makes identification of the area in which it was used easy. Since EVMs cannot be mixed like voting slips, it was easy to tell how each area--as small as a street-- voted.
After my story, an `enthusiastic' young lawyer got in touch with me to file a PIL about the EVMs being an invasion of a person's right to privacy. He largely produced printouts from government websites of the way EVMs work. The judges frowned and dismissed his PIL.
Throughout his earnest endeavour which I suspect was to get publicity, the lawyer had harangued me so much and had eventually used so little of my work that I'd begun hoping the PIL would fail. When it did get thrown out, I was actually tickled! We journos are human too..

---------------------------

Another PIL I recollect --with some satisfaction though-- followed a story I'd done on the misuse of grants by the Siddhivinayak Temple Trust. The story was relatively easy-- I was looking up the audit report of the trust and found some large sums were granted to institutions run by politicians like Narayan Rane.
A little bit of research on who owned which institution and some investigation into the previous years and I had my story. The high court appointed an inquiry committee which uncovered more hanky panky; some checks and balances are now built into the process of issuing grants.

---------------------------------------------------------------

A recent story I did on the first water authority that has been formed in the country made me realise what a reputation I'd built for myself. I met a retired top bureaucrat for this story who discussed the issue with me at length. He had actually taken down some notes for me in his own hand and seemed a bit on edge. I was surprised at his nervousness.
Twice, during our talk, he asked me what my news peg was. I told him I was planning an informative story talking about the fact that the state now has a water regulator as well, apart from a power regulator. He didn't seem convinced but kept his counsel, as they say.
When I called him the next day to fix a time for the photographer, he demanded again, ``But what are you planning to write?'' ``Oh, just about the authority,'' I repeated patiently in what I thought was a sweet tone, wishing he would stop asking me that. ``We like to have faces in our paper and since you are associated with this initiative, we'd like to take your picture if you don't mind.'' Hesitantly, he asked, ``Nothing negative, I hope?'' Puzzled, I said, ``No of course not.''
After the photographer left, he called me. ``Seema, I just wanted to make one request since you've taken our pictures.'' I frowned and waited. ``Please don't write a negative story!'' he said. What! After all my explanations and a completely non-controversial line of questioning, why on earth did he think I would paint him in black? I then wondered if there was indeed a negative story that had escaped me. This time, I merely told him, ``No, I am not writing anything negative. Yet!''
After some rigorous memory-jogging, I figured why he was so apprehensive of me. The man hadn't got a key post after his retirement because of me. Two years ago, he was all set to occupy a hot seat at a quasi-judicial authority, with the backing of all the powerful people of the state including one extra-constitutional power who operates from Delhi as a minister. At that time, I had written about how he couldn't be posted there as he was an involved party in a controversial project which would come up before the authority. Said bureaucrat had been the secretary of the department which had cleared that project. The project was later in a shambles and many of its unsavoury aspects were expected to unfold before this authority. So, I had argued in my story, he shouldnt judge his own case.
Next, I heard there was a heated discussion in Mantralaya and my story was flaunted as the reason his appointment could not be made. The man had found himself out of the saddle before he'd got in. Reason enough to get uncomfortable at my sight, I suppose.

----------------------------------------

It's not always that stories make your day and unmake somebody else's. There have been many disheartening moments in my life when stories I've gone out on a limb for fall by the wayside either for want of proof or are killed by the editor.
One such story was about a popular banquet hall facing the sea that violated CRZ rules. The suave owner was contacted for his version after I did my bit of research. He was smooth and sugary. He met me at my time and presented his case beautifully. Anybody else is my place would have converted. But I knew these types. He insisted on dropping me to my office--they usually do when they have something to fear! When I asked him for some documentation, he promptly had the tomes sent over to my office.
Throughout my research, he cooperated and kept telling me that he would try to convince me that he was right even though he knew the owners of my paper well. I wondered the purpose of this mention and realised that he was confident I would drop the story.
When I didn't and told him that I'd give him a fair say, he dropped the veneer and went incommunicado. He wouldn't take my calls nor call back. I shrugged and wrote out my story. After a couple of days, I learned from a colleague that the editor has killed the story because of a call from the owner. It transpired the banquet hall owner had tapped someone my newspaper owner knew well. My editor relegated the dirty job of telling me this to a colleague.
I was naturally livid and called up the banquet hall owner. When I started and till I stopped, I ensured he didn't get a word in edgeways. I told him that if he had wanted to do this in the first place, why was he wasting my time and energy?
What got me hopping mad was when this snake wailed, ``I don't know what you are talking about, Seema. I--I wouldn't do something like this.'' In that case, I asked him, how on earth did my owner come to know about this story at all! And pray, why would he want to stop it?
I could almost sense the creep sniggering behind the phone, which made me resolve to have the story out somehow. In a matter of days, another daily had hit the man where it hurts most with a front page banner story.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Another story which never saw the light of day was about the narrowing of a road by the owner of a well-known bar. He managed to wrangle more space out of a planned road for his slum redevelopment project. The civic body and the government both merrily went along with him, and actually issued a government resolution giving him more space and cutting the breadth of the proposed road legally!
I got information through the Right to Information Act. The bar owner was very powerful but straight with me. He gave me his facts; I got mine but my story on this legal plunder is still in cold storage, no reasons given (though one has asked).

------------------------------------------

The one story-that-was-not-to-be that has caused me considerable heartburn was about a popular chocolate manufacturer. Three years ago, the city was in the grip of diseased-chocolate epidemic--all day, one heard stories of melting chocolates, chocolates with worms, chocolates with fungus and so on. Most of these chocolates were made by this manufacturer.
(Admittedly, many of the calls we got from people about rotting chocolates were simply panic calls. I took the discretionary call and refused to publish many such stories after finding nothing wrong with the chocolate or after not being able to verify the allegation. Many other papers were simply happy to flash any half-eaten chocolate which looked like it might have had an identity crisis at some time.)
Because I had to call the manufacturing company time and again, I got to know a few people there. Around this time, I landed a brilliant story. I got a copy of an audit report of the company
certifying an atrocious incident that happened during the making of one chocolate batch.
The batch was in assembly when someone discovered a bird's leg, then a feather, then some meat and so on. The batch was then supposedly taken off the line but the horror of what had happened remained.
It was recorded, audited and signed by the auditor. I needed no further proof. I called up the MD whom I had come to know well by then. He first insisted such a thing had never happened. When I told him I had hard evidence, he tried hard to dissuade me from using the story. The pressure was persistent and stressful.
I gave the story, and went home, hoping to see the end of it the next morning. When I opened the paper the next day, I found some insipid story about the chocolate making process written by me but not the scoop. I called up the desk incharge of the night before who told me the story had been pulled out at the last minute by the editor.
When I met the editor the next day, she refused to even look me in the eye, forget offer any explanation. The story was simply throttled without the writer knowing why.
P.S. : The said MD was fidgeting whether the story was going to make it to the paper, even after his shenanigans. In order to confirm that he had hit bull's eye, he actually called me. ``Hi, how are you? what's happening, where are you...'' At that moment, I was in a second class ladies compartment having failed to run to the first class one and had approximately one thousand women yelling over my head.
I told myself he has asked for it, and with all the dignity I could muster in the midst of the mayhem, I let him have it, told him to watch out for bigger stories and ended the conversation grandly with `Sleep well today!' For, tomorrow is another day.
---------------------------------
I'm still waiting to work for that dream paper which will let journalists write the real stories.
Though it's a bit late in the day, please please let me say my piece on the Rang De Basanti versus Lage Raho Munnabhai saga. The dust has settled and each publisher--print and broadcast-- has bankrolled some serious surveys of about 100-odd persons each to let us know which is the better film. My problem is neither the surveys nor the air-headed reviews seem to make sense to me.
In my mind, there is no comparison. The choice is clear. Neither deserved to go to the Oscars. If someone put a gun to my head and asked me to choose between the two, I would go for the Munnabhai sequel. There is simply no question of choosing RDB, even if you shove that bullet into my head.
RDB is much like Rakeysh (is that right?) whatever's previous film, Aks, in the sense that you can't make any sense of it. I couldnt fathom why Amitabh kept swooning so articulately and Raveena Tandon's face kept booming back and forth in the aforementioned disaster. The story went zig-zag and you'd probably miss the story if you so much as blinked.
Ditto RDB. What the heck were these five kids doing? Can life be as simple as to permit verbatim replication of a brave act from the past? The idea itself is insane. The track seemed to run ok (ya, just ok) till the Amar Jawan Jyot scene. Then, it simply twirled, twisted and knocked you out of your senses. Suddenly, there was mayhem, cops went slanging and slamming everyone around and Saif's sister decided enough is enough, so murder the minister. The plot sickens and a new age Bhagat Singh is born. Ufff!! So much for ingenuity! And worse, all the kids die in what looked like an alien country but to help us all leave the cinema a little less heavy hearted, they recarnated themselves and sang songs. How can ANYONE identify with this gobbledygook? True, we have our atrocities, our excesses and gore. But this went beyond that. It was stupid, didn't help us feel sorry for the country or for ourselves. This was someone purging his hallucinations on an unwarned public.
I remember coming out of the movie feeling zapped. Whatever happened to common sense? There is something wild and bizarre about this man's movies, which is fine. What I can fathom much less is the crowd hysteria over this non-plussing movie.
Munnabhai is well-made, sensible and sweet. But certainly not Oscar material. Now, had they got someone else in place of the hero, maybe... ;-)