Veerappan: Chasing the Brigand

by K. Vijay Kumar

  Within days I received orders once again, this time to leave Chennai and report back to the STF as Additional DGP.

  Interestingly enough, over 100 journalists turned up for my farewell meet, including Jayanth of The Hindu. After all the brickbats, it was nice to receive some bouquets, both literal and verbal.

  23

  Inside Veerappan’s Lair

  Prior to my transfer to the STF and during my stint as commissioner, the STF had planned a brilliant strategy that nearly succeeded in eliminating Veerappan. It involved an elaborate ruse in which a suspected fundamentalist leader would reach out and gain Veerappan’s sympathy.

  The operation was carried out with remarkable secrecy—a fact that ironically worked against it. But one could hardly blame the planners for the utmost caution they exercised, considering the numerous occasions that operations had gone awry due to last-minute leaks.

  September 2003

  Damani, the leader of a religious fundamentalist group, was being held in Coimbatore Central Jail on charges of involvement in a conspiracy to carry out blasts in several south Indian cities.

  One day a slight, dark man entered his cell. The man wasn’t a stranger to him because he had come earlier on several occasions as part of the team of physiotherapists that worked on Damani, who suffered from several ailments, including weak muscles and bones.

  This time, however, his visitor was alone.

  ‘What brings you here, Mr …?’ Damani realized that he didn’t even know the man’s name.

  ‘Kannan,’ said the man, softly. ‘I have a proposal for you. It might be mutually beneficial.’

  ‘I’m listening,’ said Damani, looking with new-found interest at the man.

  ‘You’ve spent a good amount of time with Madhaiyan,’ said Kannan.

  Madhaiyan was Veerappan’s elder brother and was in the same jail, just a few blocks away from Damani.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ muttered Damani.

  ‘Please, don’t waste your time and mine. We know it’s true. We also know Madhaiyan is in touch with Veerappan. This can come in handy for both of us. Are you interested?’

  Damani thought for a while. ‘I might be,’ he conceded. ‘But what do I have to do, and what’s in it for me?’

  Kannan smiled. ‘I’ll get another person with me next time and we can thrash out the details.’

  I had first heard of SP N.K. Senthamaraikannan or Kannan way back in 1991, when the SSG was set up for Jayalalithaa. I tried, in vain, to get him into the SSG. He had done a short stint with the STF from March 1999 to May 2000, after which he was moved to the Dairy Development Corporation as vigilance officer. I got him transferred back when I joined the STF after my stint with the BSF. After all, Kannan could do better than wield a lactometer to trap petty adulterators.

  He impressed me, and the media, with his fluent Hindi, which he had mastered during his childhood travelling around India as the son of an Air Force officer. Unlike other senior STF officers, he was not fond of doing monkey crawls in the forest. A computer geek, he collated intelligence and employed cutting-edge technology to crack cases. He also had the habit of looking upbeat during troubling times and solemn when everything proceeded well. One was never overly excited or depressed with Kannan around. He was an invaluable asset to ADGP Nataraj, my batchmate who took over as head of the STF from me after my posting to Chennai.

  With Damani taking his bait, Kannan made several more trips to the jail with Nataraj. The two men decided to implement the audacious plot. The STF learnt from its CIs that Veerappan urgently needed to add manpower to his dwindling band. It also learnt that Veerappan was in communication with Madhaiyan through a young relative, who regularly visited him in jail.

  The STF’s plan was as simple as it was daring. Damani would tell Madhaiyan that he was willing to send some radicals to support Veerappan. But the men would actually be provided by the STF and would infiltrate Veerappan’s gang.

  Earlier, IG Mirji and ACP Bawa of the Karnataka STF had tried to implement the same plan and even shortlisted some denizens of Bangalore’s underworld to infiltrate Veerappan’s camp. These men were taken on a guided tour of the areas frequented by Veerappan. But after three days of seeing the jungle from a distance, the city slickers had quietly slipped away. The Karnataka STF then requested their counterparts in Tamil Nadu to implement the same plan. Nataraj and Kannan were only too happy to comply.

  Damani had no clue that he was dealing with the STF. All he knew was that he had to offer to supply Veerappan some men. In turn, he was assured that his bail plea would be fast-tracked and that he could get his leg treated in the comfort of his own home.

  Damani readily agreed and told Madhaiyan to inform his brother to expect some visitors soon.

  Then came the tricky part.

  The STF pulled some levers and ensured that Damani’s access to Madhaiyan was cut off. Likewise, Madhaiyan’s nephew was not allowed to visit him for the next few weeks. This ensured that Veerappan did not get to know that the men who had arrived in his camp were not sent by Damani.

  Everything seemed to progress at a steady pace. But a news item in the Tamil daily Dinamalar almost derailed the plan. The news report speculated on the reasons for the frequent ‘secret’ visits to the Coimbatore jail by ADGP Nataraj. With a moustache that rivalled Veerappan’s, Nataraj must have found it tough to outrun the media hounds. Though the story did not give the game away, it caused Nataraj and Kannan many sleepless nights.

  But the bigger question was: Who would lead the infiltrators?

  In keeping with the time-honoured dictum of setting a thief to catch a thief, Nataraj and Kannan identified a much-wanted don of the Chennai underworld, who agreed to take on the assignment in exchange for clemency for some of his other crimes. He was powerfully built, but his face was a curious mix of the cruel and comic—his right eye had a scar above it and he had a squint, which made him resemble an old-world pirate.

  The STF gave him the call sign ‘One-eyed Jack’.

  Negotiations proceeded without much trouble. An STF team arrived in Chennai to escort One-eyed Jack back for final parleys with Nataraj. But when the STF team was barely 100 metres away from the rendezvous point, they were stunned to see a team of the Chennai crime branch swoop down and arrest him.

  The STF’s dealings with Jack were conducted in such secrecy that the Chennai police had been unaware of the operation. I was then Chennai commissioner and rue the fact that I was not kept in the loop. Otherwise I would have ensured the mission’s success.

  But I don’t blame the STF. Intelligence-sharing has always been the bane of agencies across the world, each keeping its undercover operations as well as other logistical details a closely guarded secret. This has, perhaps, allowed criminals and terrorists to literally get away with murder several times.

  It was an extremely unfortunate coincidence that even as the Chennai police celebrated the arrest of a dreaded gangster, the STF regretted the loss of a potential major asset.

  Nataraj and Kannan had to come up with another option on short notice. They settled on Hidayatullah, who was brought in hurriedly from Kanyakumari, along with some friends. While Hidayatullah had committed many crimes, his résumé was quite colourless, compared to Jack’s. It was this lack of ‘experience’ that would prove to be a huge disadvantage much later. Contrary to suggestions in films, ‘dead or alive’ hunts are not easy, especially when the ‘alive’ option shrinks. But at that stage of the operation, the STF had little choice.

  Hidayatullah and his men entered Veerappan’s camp and were greeted warmly. They expected to be put through a gruelling routine. But to their surprise, their stay resembled a picnic.

  The gang stayed mostly in the Tamil Nadu side of the Cauvery near Hogenakkal Falls, where the forest cover was relatively thin.

  Their stay was largely uneventful, but for one dramatic incident, when Govindan spotted some movement in the vicinity. He whipped out a pair of binoculars
and gestured frantically. It was an STF party of eleven men. The gang hurriedly took cover.

  Hidayatullah and his men were in a fix. Several thoughts raced through their minds—What if the STF attacked? Should they reveal their identities and surrender? Would they be believed? Only Nataraj and Kannan knew of the plan. Was fighting the STF an option? Could they risk getting killed in the bargain?

  Even as the men tried to make up their minds, they saw the STF men settle down under a tree, barely a hundred yards away. They sat there for about an hour, ate and then walked away.

  Hidayatullah and his men heaved a sigh of relief. The SI leading the team was hugely embarrassed later when it was brought to his notice that he and his men had been a few yards away from Veerappan, blissfully unaware that they were being watched by the very man they were tasked to nab.

  Veerappan took a liking to Hidayatullah, who was always punctilious about praying five times a day and did all his chores meticulously. One day, he told Hidayatullah he had been cheated out of some money by the chief of a fringe political group that was later banned for being pro-LTTE.

  ‘I gave him ₹2 lakh for an ambulance. I believed he was an ideologue. But no ambulance came. He ran away with the money,’ said Veerappan through gritted teeth, his voice a mixture of anger, vendetta and helplessness.

  ‘That’s sad,’ commiserated Hidayatullah, but pounced on the keywords. ‘But why did you need an ambulance?’

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ said Veerappan hastily. As he got up and began to walk away, he seemed to stumble over a root. He hurriedly straightened up and looked around to check if anyone had noticed.

  Hidayatullah saw it out of the corner of his eye, but pretended not to notice anything.

  Over the next few days, Hidayatullah observed that Veerappan always walked behind everybody else whenever the party moved—which was always at night. Initially, he thought this was just a security measure. But he also noticed that Veerappan always used a prop—often a tree branch—while walking. Many a times, he would walk into a bush or branch.

  It soon became clear to Hidayatullah that Veerappan had a serious problem. This was confirmed when one day, he approached Veerappan to serve him some tea. He overheard him telling Govindan, ‘Somehow, we should get a doctor.’

  The conversation came to an abrupt end when Hidayatullah reached the scene.

  Hidayatullah had gone into the forest expecting to meet a demon. But the Veerappan he saw was a far cry from the indestructible bloodthirsty image that was projected over the years. Instead, he met an ageing, fumbling fugitive. A megalomaniac overpowered by bouts of melancholy. A doting father, especially fond of his second daughter, whose photograph he showed all infiltrators. Late at night, he would fondly identify his birthplace, pointing out the village lights.

  Hidayatullah realized that though Veerappan was in charge, his advancing age had compelled him to delegate many of his responsibilities to Govindan, who was every bit as wily and paranoid as Veerappan in his prime.

  By now, Veerappan trusted Hidayatullah completely.

  One day, when Govindan and the others went into the forest on a hunting trip, Hidayatullah and his men were left alone with Veerappan.

  Though it was broad daylight, Veerappan lay down and pulled a sheet over his head. Within minutes he was fast asleep. His snores resounded through the clearing.

  Hidayatullah walked up to Veerappan’s prone form, his mind racing and heart pounding. There was a big stone nearby. ‘I just have to pick it up and bring it down,’ he thought. ‘It will all come to an end and I will be a hero.’

  His throat and mouth were totally dry. He swallowed, then bent down and picked up the stone.

  A debate raged in his mind. He was faced with the unenviable choice of killing a sleeping defenceless man or sparing the life of somebody who had snuffed out hundreds of innocent lives. As Hidayatullah weighed his options, Veerappan stirred in his sleep and turned to one side. A series of images flashed through Hidayatullah’s mind—Veerappan showing his daughter’s photo, pointing to his village with childish uninhibitedness.

  Slowly, with trembling hands, he lowered the stone and walked back to his bed. His mate looked at him quizzically. Hidayatullah shook his head silently and gestured to the other man, asking if he wanted to perform the grim task instead. The man thought about it briefly and shook his head.

  I have no doubt that One-eyed Jack’s presence in the clearing that day would have brought Veerappan’s story to an end right there. But Hidayatullah and his men had never committed murder and were unable to bring themselves to do so that day. One can hardly blame them for showing compassion, even though Veerappan had not done so for any of his victims.

  Shortly after this incident, a tall young man came to meet Veerappan. The brigand was overjoyed and hugged him warmly, but paused when he saw a serious expression on the lad’s face.

  ‘Is something troubling you?’ he asked.

  The boy nodded. ‘I met Madhaiyan mama in jail yesterday after a couple of weeks. He wanted to know why you hadn’t replied to his recent letters.’

  Veerappan raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I went on visitors’ day, both last week and the week before, but I was not allowed to see him. The jailor apparently told Madhaiyan mama that there were no visitors for him. Madhaiyan mama doubted these four, and wanted to confirm from his friend in jail. But he was unable to meet him.’

  Veerappan was now on the verge of a panic attack.

  Even as this interaction took place in the jungle, Madhaiyan had managed to get across to Damani. The latter informed Madhaiyan that the four boys with Veerappan had not been sent by him. But the nephew was unaware of this development. So Veerappan’s dilemma about the identity of the four men continued. He was not willing to take any chances.

  After a quick chat with Govindan, Veerappan walked up to Hidayatullah. In a measured tone, he said, ‘Some urgent work has come up. We will have to split up. We’ll meet again after a few days.’

  He then mentioned a rendezvous point. Throughout the conversation, his demeanour was absolutely normal.

  Govindan guided them west of the Cauvery, only 3 km away. As usual, Veerappan brought up the rear.

  At the riverbank, Hidayatullah turned back and saw Veerappan still standing there, as if rooted. He waved warmly and left. He would never see the bandit again.

  Veerappan and Govindan waited until the four men were out of sight and then exchanged glances. That had been close; too damn close.

  ‘We should be more careful,’ Govindan said.

  Veerappan nodded bitterly. ‘Agreed. We should get as far away from the rendezvous point as possible.’ He crossed the Cauvery not far from the spot where he had ambushed SI Dinesh in April 1990.

  Nataraj’s attempt to infiltrate Veerappan’s camp may appear to have failed at first glance, but it had yielded precious information to the STF. For the first and only time, the gangsters had offered refuge to their potential killers for twenty-one days. This chilling realization impelled them to tighten their inner circle. It now became that much tougher for the STF to plant a mole.

  The STF also learnt that Veerappan desperately needed treatment for his eye—a priceless nugget of information that came in handy much later.

  Upon his debriefing, Hidayatullah also mentioned that Veerappan had a weakness for country fowl and mutton, cooked and brought from villages in the MM Hills area.

  Kannan’s head shot up. ‘Who brings the food?’ he asked.

  ‘Three–four people who visited the camp regularly. They always came around dusk, sometimes in pairs, but never all together,’ Hidayatullah replied. ‘Veerappan addressed them as mappilai (brother-in-law) or marumagan (nephew). One very fair guy was called Red (in villages, it was common to refer to a fair-complexioned man as ruddy or red). There was also a man whose face was always covered by a hood.’

  The STF, who set out to track Veerappan’s couriers, eventually traced down the nephew and the hooded man, whom they later code-na
med Blanket.

  Since the nephew was just a boy, the STF hoped to bring him around to their side. But he proved a tough nut to crack. He went through a lie-detector test but did not provide any new inputs to the STF. He was as wily as Veerappan and frustrated the best efforts of his questioners to trip him up.

  The interrogators then turned to Blanket. After persistent questioning, they were finally able to crack him. ‘I’m only working with Veerappan to provide for my son,’ the man pleaded.

  ‘Don’t worry, we will take care of his needs,’ he was assured. The love of one’s child is a powerful motivating force. Blanket agreed to cooperate with the STF and managed to provide a crucial breakthrough later.

  24

  The Last Victim

  August 2002

  After Dr Rajkumar’s abduction, Veerappan’s war chest was full, but his ranks were empty. His followers from the TNLA, TNRF and other radical outfits had been arrested, one by one. Both Tamil Nadu and Karnataka had turned on the heat.

  Tamil Nadu’s ‘Q’ branch, which had once quelled Naxals and later kept Sri Lankan groups on a tight leash, under the leadership of S.P. Ravichandran, set their sights on Veerappan’s radical friends—the TNLA and TNRA. But even as the noose tightened around him and his friends, Veerappan managed to stage one more daring operation. That would be his last.

  August 2002

  Former Karnataka minister H. Nagappa’s gunman Puttananja nodded at the lungi-clad stranger. The man had come earlier in the day as well, with a complaint that some people in his village were tormenting him over a land dispute. He was desperate to meet Nagappa, an extremely popular leader of the Lingayat caste.