If you've shared tea and conversation with someone, the chances of that person killing you is very little, reasoned wildlife photographers Krupakar and Senani. The person they shared tea with was their kidnapper, the infamous “forest brigand”, “ danta chora ” Veerappan. And this, they decided, five minutes into their conversation with him, while he was still roughing them up…and they were making tea for themselves and Veerappan's gang!
For those of us who missed this action in 1997, and for those of us who can't read Kannada, the book “Birds, Beasts and Bandits” written by Krupakar-Senani and translated into the English by S.R. Ramakrishna is a jolly good account of the 14 days the photographers spent in captivity in the forests of Karnataka with their kidnapper Veerappan. You need to read it to believe it that a real-life kidnap unfolds in a comic manner, as a caper of mistaken identity — Veerappan mistook them for high-ranking government officials!
The account was spontaneously written by the duo and serialised in the Kannada magazine Sudha the same year; it was then published as a book. The translation seems to be a tad late, one may argue, Veerappan having been shot dead in 2004. Senani admits they have forgotten most things around the incident! “The next generation may not even know about him,” they agree. But one must admit that he's engrained in the memory of most of us who followed his saga over the years.
Humour always works
The unputdownable book gets straight into action on the day of the kidnapping from the Bandipur forest and is a racy read, peppered with a quirky sense of humour, till the end. “Humour works in all situations…because if you take life seriously, it won't work,” insists Krupakar, talking of their outlook to the whole kidnap drama. “Only the first five hours were eerie,” insists Senani. Their approach to the experience seems rather cool and casual, almost practical. There was Veerappan threatening to take them away from their home, and here they were, putting on extra clothes to keep them warm in the forests at night! Krupakar puts it down to their attitude to life in general, and their work in particular: “We've never taken our careers seriously. We've always lived as we liked. We're not focussed people.”
“There were another 1,000 un-interesting experiences with him…it's not like every minute spent with him was a happy time,” says Senani. “But writing about them would have been boring…it would have only been an account of crime,” adds Krupakar. “He looked ruthless and expressed no regret for what he had done; we knew he would defend himself. No criminal will tell you the truth about where he's kept his money or weapons,” says a sardonic Senani, trying to reiterate that most of their conversations with Veerappan centred around their common interest — knowledge of the forest and wildlife.
Fear not…
Fear hardly comes through in the entire account — at most their experience seems to have been frustrating. “At no point did we feel any threat to our life. We didn't know him, but we were not ready to believe he would kill us, even five minutes into our conversation,” says Senani. “We hadn't any reason for fear,” adds Krupakar.
Unfortunately, when the they returned from Veerappan's clutches and recalled their time spent with the bandit, many misinterpreted their appreciation of certain traits of Veerappan as their approval of him as a person; some even suspected they had the Stockholm Syndrome. Krupakar-Senani explain how, having been familiar with the forest, its creatures and their ways, they were fascinated by Veerappan's intricate knowledge of it all — it was the one common point where they connected. “We only praised Veerappan's capacity to observe and his ability to go into detail, much like a filmmaker. I thought a criminal can be really talented!” muses Senani.
“He could recall his experiences in the forest, and enact his encounters with animals, complete with the sounds, silences, pauses, and animal body language,” marvels Krupakar. He explains how bird calls have various meaning to it — one particular one being a territorial call. It was this call that Veerappan and his gang would imitate — birds would get confused and fall into their trap. There are many such fascinating instances in the book. In fact they brought back tape recordings of some of the animal calls Veerappan imitated, and even experienced forest officials couldn't believe those sounds were made by a human being!
And they heard of the Stockholm Syndrome for the first time only on their return, when journalists assured them they had developed it; they then read up about it and decided they didn't suffer from it!
When Veerappan kidnapped Kannada film star Rajkumar in 2000, a lot of people, including the then chief minister, turned to Krupakar-Senani to make sense of how difficult the actor's life would be with the bandit. “Rajkumar's age was the only worrying factor. We were 100 per cent sure Veerappan wouldn't harm him. Veerappan was very conscious of his image, carefully constructed within his own sense of dharma-adharma, ” observe the duo. When Veerappan was shot dead in 2004 by the police, it wasn't such a shocker for them.
“For the kind of life he lead, he had to see such an end,” philosophises Senani. After Rajkumar's release, Veerappan had relaxed his cautious vigil; he was no longer elusive, points out Krupakar.
The self-effacing and inseparable photographers, who are as elusive as their favourite subjects — The Asiatic/Indian Wild Dog or Dhole — returned to the same house from which they were taken by Veerappan and have continued to live and work there for the last 12 years. Their film “Wild Dog Diaries”, made for National Geographic Channel, won the Green Oscar. They also run an NGO, Namma Sangha, working on conservation in the area.
“Birds, Beasts and Bandits” is published by Penguin Books India (Rs. 250).
