In 'D' Company

He must have thought it was of dubious vintage. I was quick to point out that Outlook was yet to be launched and I was interviewing him on crime and politics for a sample issue. "You mean a dummy issue!" he was incredulous. Most politicians would have got rid of me right there and then with a few quick sound bites. But Jaipal, being the gentleman he is, served tea and spoke at length on the Naina Sahni tandoor murder case and the involvement of Congressman Sushil Sharma in the ghastly crime. At the end of the interview, Jaipal wished me and the magazine well. "Is there space for one more magazine?" he wondered. "I hope the ‘outlook’ will be good." With pundits and politicians giving negative vibes, the early Outlookians would, more often than not, head for the Press Club to drown their frustration. That evening was no different. On the way back home, I was repeatedly stopped by the police. Reason: The cops were still looking for Naina Sahni’s murderer—one mota aadmi with a beard wearing a white kurta. I seemed to fit that description.

***

Having anything to do with the mob is messy business. All bravado evaporates when you get a call from a fuming Dawood Ibrahim. The bhai was cut up over a cover story which labelled him India’s Public Enemy No 1. "Who told you I do narcotic?" he thundered in ganglandese. "We do legitimate business. We are not gangsters. Yes, occasionally if we find a snake in our midst we crush the bastard dead." He demanded that Outlook publish an apology on its cover or else.... The bhai put his lieutenant in Dubai, Chhota Shakeel, to liaison with us. So every time the phone rang, and there were frequent calls from Dubai, I would get the jitters. Even Shakeel realised I was uncomfortable and wondered why my voice trembled on the phone. "Awaz kyon kampta hai. Apun phone pe thodi firing karega. Uske liye to UP mein hamare ladke hain. (Why does your voice tremble? I won’t shoot you over the phone. For that we have our boys in UP)." The phone calls were becoming too harrowing to handle. My friend and colleague Rajesh Joshi came forward to help. He had a felicity in gang talk and managed to convince Shakeel that an interview with Mr D would be the perfect answer. When the interview finally appeared, Shakeel rang up to thank us. Dawood was very happy with his picture we had published.

I heaved a sigh of relief, thinking the sordid business was over. But a few days later there was a call from a senior IB officer. Could I give him Dawood and Chhota Shakeel’s numbers?

***

Many conspiracy theories have been spun about how we got the Brigadier Surinder Singh story. Here’s how it went. Military Intelligence (MI) tipped off one of our reporters that Singh was being investigated for allowing the Pakistani intruders to occupy the Kargil heights, and that too for a monetary consideration. This was a shocking tip- off. So we set out to investigate the treacherous brigadier who had betrayed his country. First we scouted the entire Northeast since we were told by MI that he was under house arrest in that region. We drew a blank. Then a very senior officer at army headquarters revealed that Singh was in Secunderabad and that the intelligence story was baseless. That’s how we got to contact Singh and publish the notes sent by the brigadier to his superiors warning them of possible intrusions. As for MI operatives, the ground rule always is: enjoy your peg of rum with them but take whatever they say with a pinch of salt.

***

Sometimes easy does it. Take our scoop on Justice S.N.Phukan of the Tehelka Commission going on a junket with his wife in a VIP aircraft provided to him by the defence ministry he was investigating. We had it from reliable sources in the commission that the judge had had indeed gone on the jaunt. Intelligence officials in private confirmed the story. But all this was not good enough. We had to have some clinching evidence. With the defence ministry refusing to help, it looked like a lost cause. For two weeks Saikat Datta, who was on the story, struggled. We almost gave up. As a last resort he tried something basic. We put a call through to the honourable judge. Imagine Saikat’s surprise when an arrogant Phukan confirmed our story and also told us that it was up to the government to explain why they had provided him a VIP aircraft. In retrospect, the story, which rocked Parliament, would perhaps have never seen the light of day had Justice Phukan simply refused to comment!

***

These days one speaks of digital cameras and e-mailing pictures. But just six years ago one had to physically send the rolls back to the head office in Delhi. On the day Operation Vijay was launched in Kargil, our photographer Jitender Gupta had the unenviable task of shooting pictures at the front and then getting the films back to Delhi in 48 hours. What made things that much more difficult was that the army had closed Srinagar airport. But we achieved the impossible. While the others in the media contingent slept, we were up and on the move at four in the morning and after negotiating the treacherous Zojila Pass were in Srinagar by late evening. From there we entrusted the rolls to a friend. He cabbed it to Jammu and caught the night bus to Delhi. We had the pictures, hot and live, while our more high-tech competition literally missed the bus.

***

You might be rival publications but that doesn’t mean you can’t be friends. But there was a point when the unwritten law was that India Today staff should avoid socialising with Outlookians. The rumour was that a manager from the administration had been given the express task of keeping track of who meets who at the Press Club. Having earlier done a stint with India Today, I had friends there and we used to occasionally meet over a drink. One evening, four of us were downing beer when someone sounded an alert. The admin man was heading to the club. Panic set in. Everyone at my table fled for dear life via the back door. I was left looking ridiculous with four mugs and four opened bottles of beer. Luckily, it was to be a false alarm. Or, I would have ended up picking up the entire tab.

***

And finally back to the basics. The first Outlook party was on the office terrace. There was Royal Challenge whisky, Old Monk rum and Pepsi for parched throats. Kababs and curries for the hungry from the nearby dhaba. Two inverted buckets and a kettle served as bass drum for anyone to jam the twelve bar Outlook Blues. The times, they surely have changed...