"I am tired of spoon-feeding you," the Editor fixed me with a stern stare. "Henceforth you must come up with your own story ideas. Keep in mind that the attrition rate is 90 per cent." His larger-than-life figure came to my mind as I scanned the engagement columns of a daily. Last year 17 members of the Puthiya Tamilagam had died in the Thambiraparanin river when the cops lathicharged them. In true Appleby fashion, the government then appointed a commission to inquire into it. And the people appointed a People's Monitoring Committee to monitor the commission. It was meeting today in Tirunelveli. I decided to attend. Reminded of the attrition factor I called up the Editor. He wasn't impressed. "Why don't you check out what the Bajrang Dal and VHP are up to in the south? They are having a three-day conference. Today is the second day." I live in the Tuticorin district. So south of me had to be either Tirunelveli or Kanyakumari district. I decided to check with my village doctor. He isn't an MBBS but he does everything a doctor does. So we call him Doctor. He is a fierce RSS loyalist. I phoned him. "You heard there is a VHP-Bajrang Dal conference on in Kanyakumari?" "Yes! Yes! Many of our members have gone there." "They have gone to attend the conference?" "No! No! They are gone to guard the conference". "Guard!?" "People are hijacking planes. You think nobody is interested in bombing us? My villagers have gone on guard duty." I was impressed. It was noon. If I left now I would reach Kanyakumari at about 1700 hours. That would be pointless. I decided to leave in the evening. The bus left Tiruchendur at 1800 hours. I was lucky to get a direct bus, which went there in a roundabout manner. Soon it started pouring. Closing the windows didn't help. The bus leaked. Water flew through it like a regular stream. The driver drove slowly. There was a regular squeaking noise. Four-and-a-half cold wet hours later, we reached Kanyakumari. I had booked a room, luckily. When I reached the hotel, I decided to go to the restaurant. "Restaurant closed," said the boy who accompanied me. "What about room service?" I asked, grabbing the phone. It wasn't connected. "I am room service," the boy said. He went out to get me food. Fifteen minutes later he was back with hot dosas. I pointed at the phone. "I want a wake up call at 0500 hours." "No phone. I will ring the bell," he said, after pocketing his tip. The television worked. The dosas were good. I fell asleep immediately. I got up to the sound of someone trying to break down the door. I put on the light. It was 0415 hours. I opened the door. "It isn't 0500 hours." I glared at the boy. "Okay. I will come back at 0500," he said. I pleaded with him not to bother. I didn't want to pay for the door. I went back to sleep. Overslept. It was 0900 hours when I woke up. I had wanted to see the sunrise at Kanyakumari. I didn't bother with breakfast but charged down to the sea. It looked incredibly clean, deep. The Gandhi mandapam was quiet. The Vivekananda memorial was crowded. I asked the cabbies and auto-rikshaw drivers about the conference. Nobody knew about it. There was a cop who looked like Tom Alter. Real pink complexion. I asked him in English. He looked bewildered. I repeated my query in Tamil. He continued to look bewildered. I marched into the police station nearby. A conference would need police permission, right? No news! Next, I tried the tourist office. They were very helpful. "VHP-Bajrang Dal... ask the Vivekananda Kendra at 46250 or 46251." I called the Kendra. The man told me to hold on. In the background I could hear Malayalam and Hindi. The man came back. "No conference here," he said. I returned to my hotel. I was extremely hungry. The restaurant was empty. "Closed. Breakfast over," was the explanation. I vacated my room. On the way out I tore up the hotel bill. No point giving my Editor apoplexy by submitting it. Now came the worst part. I had to call up my boss. "We don't mind our people making mistakes," I remembered him telling me. "They should make an effort, that's what matters." I had made an effort. So I picked up the receiver. "I am in Kanyakumari," I told him. "Kanyakumari?" "Conference," I mumbled. "That's on in Rameshwaram." "Ten to 12 hours form here," I mumbled again. "How far are you from home?" "Four to five hours". "Go home," he said. The bus came. I was about to get in. Then I saw the flags - fluttering Saffron flags! More than 25 of them. Atop parked buses, cars, vans. The conference was here after all! I let the bus go and raced to the parking lot. "Eureka," I screamed to myself. I reached there breathless. All the vehicles had framed photos on them. Not of Vajpayee or Advani or of Ram. The photos were of Lord Ayyappa. "Swamiye, saranam Ayyappa," I said automatically. "Lord, I surrender to you!" A Ganesh Nadar has now made a habit of confirming venues before he starts off.
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