CEO for a moment
To glean information that otherwise wouldn’t be forthcoming, reporters at times have to blend in with the crowd and pretend to be anything but. Recently, things so turned out that I stumbled onto a new identity while covering an international IT conclave in Kochi that featured biggies like Google, Adobe and Lenovo. Exploring the stalls, I found myself standing next to that of an Indian company, whose representatives had stepped out for lunch. Just then, a group of sharply dressed gentlemen approached me.
I wasn’t to be flustered, was I? I stood my ground, and they promptly started asking me about ‘my’ company’s product. It took me a while to realise they were indeed addressing me. When I finally explained that I was among those supposed to be asking the questions, they burst into laughter. Well, I was a CEO for a few minutes.
Anu Kuruvilla
The curious case of ‘Maaraya’
One fine evening, a junior reporter, in all earnestness, rang up a police station. And on a very serious note, asked, “Is there a CPO (civil police officer) named Maaraya there?” A curt reply came through: “No, there’s no such person working here!”
The reporter’s query was on the directions of a senior checking his copy. There was something fishy in the sentence that read, “The police team (that arrested the accused) also included CPO Maaraya, Sajumon, Nahas...” The senior then asked the young reporter to read the police statement again, carefully. The press note, er… in Malayalam, said: “CPO maaraya Sajumon, Nahas (CPOs Sajumon, Nahas)…” For a moment, they looked at each other. And a hearty laughter rang around the room. Well, the senior still pulls the rookie’s leg over the episode.
Sovi Vidyadharan
Ultimate mic drop: Hang up!
This has been a season of discussions, debates, and arguments and counterarguments within the CPM. Not even Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan has been spared. It was no surprise that the area committee meetings in Kannur were far from being a smooth sailing. Local issues forced postponements in three places even in the party stronghold of Payyanur. While covering one such issue, I reached out to a leader who happens to be a local body representative.
He responded, alright. But instead of speaking on the issue, he launched himself into an impromptu lecture on inner party workings. Fine. But it quickly took on unexpected overtones. He shifted from being a ‘party professor’ to an ‘intimidating villain’. Hmm, so things indeed are not so well with the area committees. Finally, I shot back. And he did the ultimate mic drop: hang up. Perhaps, he didn’t realise he was making a news of himself!
Lakshmi Athira
Fearless in rain, on a canoe
“Where are we heading to this time,” asked our photographer, T P Sooraj. “Kallu Vachu Kaadu, a secluded island with just eight families, near Tripunithura.” Halfway, the heavens opened. We reached the waterfront drenched, with the photographer protecting his camera but hardly bothered by getting wet. My only contact there, carpenter Murukesan K S, was waiting beside a canoe, with an umbrella in hand. We exchanged pleasantries and waited. Time was at a premium, for I had listed the story for the day. As the rain lightened, I asked, “Can we make a move?” Murukesan gave me a wry smile and said, “Please get in.” The canoe swayed big time as I stepped on to it. I apologised, confessing it was my first experience on such a small boat.
“They are experts, there’s nothing to be worried about. Come on,” I told Sooraj. But Murukesan said he would get me across first. “Quick, let’s go before it pours again,” he said. I thought about the residents with admiration, trying hard not to betray my fear. On the opposite bank, I got ready with my mobile phone camera. To my surprise, the photographer was clinging to the swaying canoe for dear life, hardly bothering about the “expensive” camera. As Sooraj set foot on land again, I was all praise for the rower. “We have no fear whatsoever. I know you guys make these sorties every day.” Murukesan, poker-faced, replied, “I’m the only one here who doesn’t own a boat, and I rarely row. I was waiting for someone to take me across. But since it was raining heavily, no one was coming. That’s why I decided to take you one by one.” We threw a quick glance at the gushing waters. And I dared not look the photographer in the eye!
Krishna Kumar K E
LASHING WAVES, BRAVE LIVES
Two local residents escorted us to the site of a 2.5km seawall that was crumbling in Pazhangad, near Kochi. Their warnings were drowned out by the roar of the sea. Despite their concerns, photographer T P Sooraj and I pressed on. In the ‘red zone’, towering waves confronted us. The village lay beyond a 300-metre stretch of flooded land. With little knowledge of swimming, we focused on the sandy path, holding hands as seawater threatened to sweep us off our feet.
Once past the waves, we saw the devastation — broken seawalls, makeshift geobags, and flooded homes. In some areas, I had to stand in the water to conduct interviews, separated from the residents by rising waters. Despite their pain, when they saw we had taken the trouble to listen to their woes, they offered us tender coconut water to refresh ourselves. Warmth in the face of adversity. Humbling.
Mahima Anna Jacob
Run, it’s a tiger!
With rogue elephants and tigers on the prowl, people living on the forest fringes in Wayanad are reluctant to step out after nightfall. In February, elephants trampled two persons in the span of a week. While visiting a victim’s house, we met Lissy Joseph who recounted how she escaped from the clutches of a tiger at Padamala.
A few metres into her walk to the church, at 6.30am, she heard a roar. Glimpsing a charging tiger, Lissy ran to her neighbour’s house but tripped over in panic. Fortunately, the neighbours’ screams and the honking of a car distracted the tiger.
Lissy had just finished her tale, at the very spot, and we heard a thud near us. Shocked to the core, we stood rooted for a few seconds, and had almost taken to our heels when we saw what had fallen – a coconut frond! We laughed out, more out of relief than joy.
Manoj Viswanathan