Veerappan in Thekkady

7.30 am in the bus stand!

An official long trip after a long time. I was excited for two reasons. 
One, I was going to a town in Kerala where my firm footprints has not being made. Two, I was also cruising through the last few pages of Veerappan, a memoir on life and death of Koose Munnisamy Veerappan as narrated by Mr.Vijaykumar. 

To cut all hell that broke loose, I had paused to read that morning before I left for the bus stand. Completing pages of books during my travel in super luxurious KSRTC lovably called "Elephant" was my favourite past time. Thanks to the nature of my sales job, travelling has always been fun. Ticket that the conductor issued would take me to Thekkady. A high range tourist destination preciously aligned between slopes and valley's. 

STF had managed to infiltrate into Veerappan's camp back in 2003 and I was here in the first seat of bus allotted for the conductor, reading a briefing of that operation published as book 14 years since then. Privacy and convenience that the seat offered had always attracted me to that particular seat. All I had to do is a little negotiation with the conductor.

The driver's attitude matched with the likes of MS Dhoni in-field. Ruckus created by teen riders and elderly drivers on a narrow stretch of road from Kothamangalam was handled so swiftly that I could deeply immerse into narrative of the book. Only moment of distraction was when I gazed in awe at the pages describing Muthulakshmi's encounter with Ramya which would further detail the romance between Veerappan and Muthulakshmi(Veerappan's wife). Her description about how Veerappan was a bad father readily left a impact in me and that was when shadows of trees closed in and out of the pages I was reading. Texture of paper used in the book added to its beauty, for a moment, I felt like there would be some inscription hidden in the pages longing to unravel during this natures play. I soon realized, it was my love for the Hollywood movie 'National Treasure' put into thoughts. A moment that I paused to witness the majestic beauty of mountains clad with hush green troughs. 

Nerimangalam and forward. I smiled within myself realizing one unique fact that I just observed in this journey. I thought to myself, which should have been the answer to question which my ex-boss asked 4 years back while i was sitting opposite to him for my first ever interview of my life. The question i always recollect to think about.

"What do you find different or unique about Kerala after living in Tamil Nadu for so long?". 

It took me five years in Kerala to find an answer to that question. From geographical terrain, sloped roofs on houses, compound walls to the side leaning shoulder of famous Malayalam superstar Mohanlal most commonly addressed as Lal Ettan in which Ettan translates into big brother. Slopes and inclinations are so common in Kerala. I laughed at my silly thoughts right after.

Half-past one in the timer since the driver first accelerated from where I boarded. I could zoom into fine dew drops on the algae leaves each time as driver slows down for vehicles from other side to pass in the narrow road. Guy holding the steering seemed unusually cool for a person accelerating through hilly terrain. From his confident expressions and facial gestures I thought to myself, it might either be knowledge of this route or his romance and love for motor machines. None among 49 other fellow travelers of mine in the bus had or expressed any doubts of reaching destination. Quite ironic a confidence for travelers experiencing the fast and furious ride in that terrain.

Idukki dam closed in as the thumping piston inside 6 cylinder engine with cranking sound loudly roared along the inclining steep. "Operation Boston", named after Boston tea party had failed, as described in the book. And that added to my agony. At one instance when the pages read, Durai who was instrumental in eliminating the notorious don Veeramani in the busy streets of Chennai at a point-blank range in the disguise of a sanyasi was pulled in to the mission to be disguised again but as an arms dealer, I could hear the raging acceleration. If I had a looping device then, the raging noise in loop would have gone as background music to that situation.

Price tag of Hotel Vyshak in Guruvayoor was my page marker. I closed the book to go back into enjoying the wilderness of forest range that had just started. Every time tires split the clogged water on the road it rippled back to clog potholes as the sixteen-ton machine cruised through hilly Ghats.

The mesmerizing view of Periyar was yet to be seen and I had a lot in store. Confused between going back into operation cocoon, the real mission that nabbed Veerappan dead, and the mesmerizing beauty of Idukki as penned down my many lyricists, latest being the one from the Malayalam movie 'Maheshinte Prathikaram'- a notable one. I had come to think at the very moment that the beauty of Idukki can never be narrated as a story but only as a rhyme or a poem, something that reminds readers of a soulful flow.

As the journey continued, I could see the slope pattern repeating in the flow of water cutting through the ghat roads as well. The water pouring down brushing through the rock walls in the sides made a natural waterfall for the insects and then the stream found its own course making it look like a river projected in an architects prototype model. For a moment I thought children who start to walk and these natural streams are kinds of the same. Both of them take their own course unless there is a path drawn for them.

Multiple mountain caps were in my sight and the thought of scaling the highest peak came back to my mind. Dhimbam hills, infamously famous for being a hideout to Veerappan was the word as I looked back to my book. An innocent coincidence is always that makes a situation memorable, and so i scaled that moment into fragments before i stored it in my memory. Mr.Vijayakumar had implemented strong lessons of training to counter the notorious bandit in the forest by mastering the rule book of a forest. And his major idea was to cut down the huge team of 10-15 into 4-6 and further into 2 in a team at regular intervals. The kind of buddy pairing scenarios becoming famous in two-hero movie flicks.

It has been always fun to look at the girls sitting in the front row behind the driver's seat from the side mirror of the bus. But, this time little I had the interest to ogle as I am fasting as a Brahmachari to step the holy shrine of Sabarimala in the next month. I choose to look outside at the hush green every time as I wanted to visualize the encounter narrated in the pages. I had forgot to look down as I was lost in the beauty of those beautiful mounds of hills. Varied thoughts came into my mind. From the drawings of hills that most of us used to do as kids, surprised thoughts about how huge trees grow in a place where solid rocks are the surface and so. I was literally becoming a kid with excitement. I smiled, blushed and thanked for the nature of job I had.

As I read the passage which explained Mr.Senthamaraikannan being briefed about operation Cocoon added to the altitude we were climbing, my heart beat increased pace. For the first time in this three hours, I saw panic in the face of the driver. His legs moved swiftly thumping on the break as he made two dance moves swinging left and right. All I remember is holding the bar in front of me so that I would deliberately miss the chance to test if I have the abilities of Superman to fly against Gravity. Back into senses, I realized that the driver was negotiating a curve and all I could see is a bus right in front of the already cracked front mirror of the bus we were traveling.

I felt at least a few thousand feet above the sea level as I looked down through he window straight into the valley as the driver was busy negotiating the curve after escaping a crash that could have seriously impacted a headline news for the lack of barricades in the sides of a curve. 

The gushing stream glittered as the sun rays fell on it directly and the view was splendid. Something that blew me off the feet. My eyes stayed stuck into the valley following the traces of rocks stuffed up in the valley. For the next few kilometers, I did not bother to think about what happened to the STF's traveler that was sent to Salem workshop for an overhaul, nor about Mr.X who's name is still a mystery. As the book narrates it was MR.X name that shocked the officers more, than the fact that they were so close to the most wanted fugitive.


Mists are so beautiful when you can feel it. I could realize that I'd be reaching Kumily any time sooner and so I did not want to leave the episode of operation cocoon uncompleted for me to wait till evening to read. Confused between the seductive beauty of the nature and fascinating episodes of the encounter I could not exactly make out to which I should give more attention. As I had the blood boiling in the event of knowing that Mr.Vijayakumar and Mr.kannan are so close to disclosing the names of their target, to two more people who are involved in the operation, I chose to stick to the narration.

So was I shocked as Durai and Saravanan. While theirs was in realizing their importance in execution, mine was in knowing that, I have ignored to choose this route every year on our return trip from Sabarimala, though the plans were made just on falls assumptions that the roads would be dilapidated.

Kattapana junction as the name board read. The three hundred and eighty-third bullet pierced into the customized vehicle hitting Sethukuli Govindan 7 times and Veerappan twice alone. Devil's fortune did not smile wide at him for the first time in his life and so the demons had him already. Ak's were the demon in disguise. Yes, the end of Koose Muniswamy Veerappan was well described as the news was conveyed to then CM of Tamil Nadu, late Selvi Jayalalitha.

The next 30 minutes to Kumily was my time to rejoice and visualize all the incidents in the trip and in the book. Somewhere between the journey after being done with the book, I had lost myself into the beauty of the terrain and had thoughts of Anjali coming in. There were times I felt if she was there to hold my hands. If she was there to lean on my shoulders. Yes, 12.30 and I stepped down in Kumily as I read the sign board, Welcome to Tamil Nadu. A hundred meters away from the bus stand, while I was still in Kerala

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