In a judgment delivered on November 8, the judge of the Designated Court-II that held the trial in the 'Padmanabha murder case' acquitted 15 of the 17 accused on the ground that the prosecution had "not proved beyond any reasonable doubt" the allegations against them. The judge, Arumuga Perumal Adithan, convicted the other two accused, Chinna Santhan and Anandaraj, for offences under the Terrorist and Disruptive Activities (Prevention) Act, or TADA. Among those acquitted are former Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) Minister Subbulakshmi Jagadeesan, her husband Jagadeesan, former State Home Secretary R. Nagarajan, Marumalarchi Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (MDMK) leader V. Gopalsamy's brother V. Ravichandran and advocate D. Veerasekaran.
Chinna Santhan was declared guilty under Section 3 (3) of TADA for advising, abetting and facilitating the crime. He was sentenced to six years of rigorous imprisonment (R.I.) and fined Rs. 2,000. If he does not pay the fine, he has to undergo one more year of imprisonment. Anandaraj was found guilty under Section 3 (4) of TADA for harbouring Gundu Santhan, one of the accused in the case. Anandaraj was sentenced to five years R.I. A fine of Rs.1,000 was also imposed on him and failure to pay the fine will attract another six months of imprisonment.
Of the 26 who were listed as accused in the original charge-sheet filed by the Tamil Nadu Special Investigation Team (TANSIT), Sivarasan and Gundu Santhan (who are among the accused in the Rajiv Gandhi assassination case) are dead. Kiruban escaped from custody. Six of them - Pottu Amman (who is also an accused in the Rajiv Gandhi assassination case), Daniel, David, Dileepan, Ravi and Nagaraja - were declared proclaimed offenders since they absconded. Since a trial cannot be held in absentia, the remaining 17 faced the trial, which was held at a specially-built court at Poonamallee, about 30 km from Chennai.
The 17 accused were (in the order in which they have been listed in the charge-sheet): Chinna Santhan, Vicky, R. Nagarajan, Rajan alias Kunjan, T.V. Marudanayagam, Jayabalasingham, Chandravadana (Jayabalasingham's wife), Vasanthan, Anandaraj, Sebastian, Mahendran, Gunaraja, Irumborai, D. Veerasekaran, Subbulakshmi Jagadeesan, Jagadeesan and Ravichandran.
Thirteen leaders of the Eelam People's Revolutionary Liberation Front (EPRLF), including its secretary-general K. Padmanabha, were shot dead in Chennai on June 19, 1990 allegedly by a killer squad of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). Two local residents were also killed in the attack.
The EPRLF leaders were holding a meeting in a flat at Kodambakkam when an armed group of LTTE men burst into the room and sprayed them with bullets. The assailants also exploded hand grenades. The murders sent shock waves across Tamil Nadu and caused widespread revulsion against the killers.
Then
EPRLF, secretary-general: K. Padmanabha
The LTTE's
animosity towards the EPRLF arose from its perception that the EPRLF was
pro-India. The animosity increased after hostilities broke out between the
Indian Peace Keeping Force (IPKF) and the LTTE on October 10, 1987. The IPKF was
deployed in the Tamil majority North-Eastern Province of Sri Lanka under the
Indo-Sri Lanka Agreement signed on July 29, 1987. When the Sri Lankan Government
announced that elections to the North-Eastern Provincial Council would be held
on November 1988, the LTTE gave a call to boycott the polls. It warned that
anyone who took part in the elections would be declared a "traitor"
and punished. The EPRLF contested the elections and formed a Ministry headed by
its leader A. Varadaraja Perumal. After the IPKF pulled out of Sri Lanka in
March 1990, the North-Eastern Provincial Council collapsed and EPRLF leaders
fled to Chennai. The killers struck on June 19, killing Padmanabha and other
leaders. A DMK government led by M. Karunanidhi was then ruling the State.
THE All-India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (AIADMK) Government headed by Jayalalitha, which came to power after the dismissal of the DMK Government and a spell of President's rule, set up TANSIT in December 1991 to probe the murder of the EPRLF leaders. TANSIT filed the charge-sheet on August 12, 1992. According to the charge-sheet, the murders were an act of revenge against EPRLF cadres who the LTTE believed had worked against it with the help of the IPKF after Varadaraja Perumal became the Chief Minister of the North-Eastern Provincial Council.
The charge-sheet said that the conspiracy was hatched in Jaffna, Tiruchi and Chennai. Pottu Amman allegedly worked out the plot in Jaffna in February 1990. On his instructions, Chinna Santhan came to Chennai and joined an engineering technology institute, which was near the flat where the EPRLF leaders lived. The charge-sheet further alleged that a squad consisting of Sivarajan, David, Dileepan, Daniel and Ravi arrived in Tamil Nadu on June 10, 1990 and that on being informed by Chinna Santhan that Padmanabha and other EPRLF leaders were holding a meeting in the flat, the assailants reached the spot in a car with AK-47 rifles and hand grenades. They shot dead Padmanabha and others. The group is alleged to have fled in a Maruti car, driven to Pillaiyar Thidal village in Thanjavur district the next day and escaped in a boat to Jaffna.
In his 271-page judgment, Adithan said that although 206 witnesses were examined, there was no direct evidence to prove that the first eight in the list of accused got together either in Jaffna or Tiruchi or in Chennai and made preparations to kill Padmanabha. The judge said: "There is absolutely no evidence on record to show that A 1 to A 8 had committed the offence of conspiracy" (under Section 120-B of the Indian Penal Code).
The prosecution case against former Home Secretary R. Nagarajan was that he had instructed higher police officers not to apprehend the assailants so that they could escape. But, the judge said, an Inspector-General and a Deputy Inspector-General of Police, who were examined, did not support the case of the prosecution. The judge said that there "is absolutely no evidence on record" to show that Nagarajan was connected with the Padmanabha murder case or that he took part in terrorist activities.
The judge rejected allegations that Subbulakshmi Jagadeesan and Jagadeesan had harboured Gundu Santhan in their farm-house near Erode in September-October 1991. He also rejected similar charges against Ravichandran and Veerasekaran. The judge said that these four were not liable for offences under Section 3 (4) of TADA.
The judge said that the escape of the killer squad was a "slur" on the efficiency of the police department. He said that the Tamil Nadu Government had a moral obligation to compensate the victims of this "ghastly massacre even though no amount of money can console the kith and kin." The judge added: "This court appeals to the Government to give at least Rs. 2 lakhs as compensation to the legal heir of each of the victims who lost their lives."
Let us imagine a delicious but totally hypo thetical scenario.Suppose for a moment that the right to information exists in Sri Lanka.In other words, the government and government connected bodies could be armtwisted to yield juicy titbits about its activities, most of which is normally inaccessible or could be cited only by prefacing anonymity.
The staid government apologist would undoubtedly be horrified at the vistas this conjures up. AirLanka could be asked to serve up details of its transactions with banks or otherwise and the Sports Ministry could be put on the mat to officially disclose whether all those trumpeted about gifts of land, houses, cash etc were actually vested in the now tarnished golden girl. The possibilities seem endless.
But these wild flights of fancy can, like all wild things, only be enjoyed momentarily. One has to be reluctantly brought down to earth, and apply oneself to persuading the apologist that in any event the right to information does not mean that all these alarming things would happen or could happen. If the right to information exists, it would only mean that public access to government held information, excepting certain defined categories could be widened. It would not, as has been famously said "widen the floodgates for the wild asses to behave more like wild asses than ever."
In case you are wondering what this is all about, this is the moment for enlightenment. It is time that the apologist is reassured about these things, for apparently these are the reasons why the Law Commission proposed report on an Access to Official Information Act is languishing on some bureaucrat's desk in the Media Ministry, without any hope of resurrection.
In any event, there is another particular reason why the apologist need not worry about the proposed piece of legislation.
In their anxiety to walk the tight rope over the sensitive chasm of media rights, the Law Commission, which is an independent body constituted within the legal profession to examine issues of law reform, has undoubtedly preferred discretion to valour.In a quaintly titled "Final Word" to the report, the Commission has conceded that "the recommendations and draft Act may be seen by the media and proponents of the freedom of information as restrictive. However, the Commission believes that gradual and cumulative reform of the law would be a better approach more likely to succeed." As a result, the report has been sidelined by both protagonists. On the one hand, bureaucrats frightened into an almost pathological fear of the media in the current impasse, are afraid to okay even the slightest concession, while on the other hand, journalists see the effort as not being sufficiently activist to meet their needs.
All this extremism is really not necessary. While the Law Commission reforms are undoubtedly conservative, several aspects of the draft Act deserve a closer look, for perhaps no better reason than the fact that it is the only thing on offer right now, with the Parliamentary Select Committee media reform process being reduced to a political titbit over which the Opposition and the Government is happily quarrelling.
The Law Commission has commented that the current administrative policy appears to be that all information in the possession of the government are secret, unless there is good reason to allow public access.
"This policy is no longer acceptable" the Law Commission has stated. However, it has added that on the other hand, law reform that allows for public access in all cases unless there is good reason to make it secret is also inappropriate.
So, what is the via media ? The Act proceeds on three principles. First, all citizens are provided with a right of access to information in records under the control of a government institution, in accordance with the principle that government information should be available to the public.
This right is however limited to those who are affected by decisions made, proceedings taken and acts performed under law. It appears therefore that the Act does not confer a right on the media to claim access to such information, on the basis of information gathering.
Second, the Act states that necessary exceptions to the right of access should be specific and limited. It lays down a number of exceptions under which information could be denied, which includes defence and foreign policy, privacy, law enforcement, finance and taxation and what has been rather ambiguously termed "information that should, in the public interest, be kept secret."
In what is by far, its most applaudable suggestion, the Commission has also recommended thirdly that decisions on the disclosure of government information ought to be reviewed independently of government. It is provided that the Supreme Court may look into such matters within one month of access being denied.
While the caution of the Commission in specifying exclusions to the right to know principle may be appreciated, what is somewhat disappointing is that the draft Act specifically provides that existing law which denies the public right to information would prevail over and above the Act.
It also specifies that although the Act would apply to all Governmental Departments, Corporations, Statutory Boards, Provincial Councils and local bodies, any Minister can exempt an institution by gazette if he thinks that such an exemption is necessary in the public interest.
Officials of the Commission, responding to criticism of their proposed reforms, say that their minds are open to change.
"If the media demands an expanded version of the Act, there is nothing to prevent it being sent back to us for reappraisal. What is needed is there should be discussion and debate on these issues. This creates a certain tension which might lead to something at least being accomplished." they say.
The Law Commission proposed reforms appear to be far more restrictive than suggestions made by the 1996 Media Law Reform Committee which also recommended a Freedom to Information Act. The 1996 recommendations which are far wider in scope, specifically state that secrecy provisions in other laws must be subordinate to the freedom of information law and also proposed that government employees who arbitrarily and capriciously deny information could be subject to administrative penalties, including loss of salary.
This Committee has pointed out that though government information could be collected from a variety of sources including official censuses and surveys, administration and other official documentation, access to other governmental held information is constrained by red tape.It is this problem that the Committee has tried to address by suggesting a Freedom of Information Act.
"Besides acknowledging the public's right to information as a means which would facilitate their participation as effective members of society, such an Act would also serve to give credibility to the Peoples Alliance government's pledge of transparency and accountability as a characteristic of political governance"the Committee has said.
While the right to know is being handled so gingerly in Sri Lanka, it is interesting to see that India has long recognised this right as belonging to citizens and journalists alike.In a 1981 case for example, the government sought to withhold correspondence between the Union Law Minister, the Chief Justice of India and the chief justices of some high courts concerning the government's controversial policy of transferring some high court judges from one state to another. In ruling that the government had to disclose the correspondence, the Indian Supreme Court stated that "the concept of an open government is the direct emanation from the right to know which seems to be implicit in the right to freedom of speech."
Again, in a 1975 case, the Indian government sought to withhold certain documents issued to the police regarding security arrangements for the Prime Minister's travels within the country.
In ruling that the government had to make public all documents that would not endanger public order or the Prime Minister's security, the Supreme Court stated:
"In a government of responsibility like ours, where all the agents of the public must be responsible for their conduct, there can be but few secrets.The people of this country have a right to know every public act, everything that is done in a public way, by their public functionaries.They are entitled to know the particulars of every public transaction in all its bearing. The right to know, which is derived from the concept of freedom of speech, though not absolute, is a factor that should make one wary when secrecy is claimed for transactions which can, at any rate, have no repercussions on public security."
The right to know has been used particularly effectively by the Indian media in environmental pollution cases where governmental departments have been compelled to disclose information about their environmental control programs.
But, that is India. Sri Lanka is, of course, demonstrably different. Battle lines between the media and the government have been so effectively drawn that dialogue has become well nigh impossible. Meanwhile, journalists continue to spar with media rights and responsibilities, the public live from one headline to another, catching its breath in glee over revelations of sex, scandal and sleaze, the activists and the academics continue to be impervious to a real crisis of confidence in society and we muddle along nonetheless. Just another age in the cynicism that passes for life today.
As the mist rolled up to unveil a rain soaked landscape, they spotted him. The predator stood grooming his whiskers and smoothing his unruly hair. Krupakar and Senani paused. For long they had been content shooting birds and wild dogs. Now here was the king of the jungle himself.
The acclaimed wildlife filmmakers had dreamed of doing a photo-feature on Veerappan. They got their chance last month when the bandit king abducted the duo, both in their late 30s from their field station adjacent to the Bandipur National Park. Their abduction, with four others, sent the authorities in Karnataka and Tamil Nadu into a tizzy, but for the photographers it was a godsend.
Krupakar and Senani, as the duo is popularly known have made more than a dozen documentary films and their work is sought by television biggies BBC and Discovery. But nothing could match the thrill of coming face-to-face with Veerappan. During their 14-day captivity in his lair they discovered that there was more to the country's most wanted man. They espied a subtlety in his coarseness. And they captured it on film. THE WEEK publishes here their observation: exclusive photographs of the brigand who has been eluding the law for more than a decade.
"Veerappan loves to pose," notes Krupakar. "But with 135mm tele lens and 28 mm lens there were limitations on what we could do." Satiating their professional urge, however, was the last thing on the minds of the two lensmen as they trudged into the yawning darkness of the forests. For Senani that early October night "was the beginning of the journey of uncertainty".
As days rolled into nights and the monotony of routine set in Veerappan began showing interest in Krupakar and Senani's knowledge of the jungle. "Slowly his interest turned to affection," says Senani. "Our conversations were endless and the range of subjects diverse."
Dressing
to kill: Veerappan combs his moustache
Meanwhile,
Veerappan's young accomplices - Anburaj, Sethukuli Govindan, Meke Rangaswamy and
Madesh - were toying with the loot they had picked up while ransacking the
photographers' house: a Sony walkman, transistor and equipment used to record
animal calls. "For a moment they forgot about their muzzle loaders and
behaved like excited children," says Krupakar. The hostages were calmed by
Veerappan's assurance that they would be released unharmed. By now Krupakar and
Senani's creative instincts had been kindled: in the drabness of the gang's
daily chores they found a visual spectacle. "The feeling of helplessness to
realise our artistic urge was acute," says Senani. "We reconciled to
the fact that we were hostages without our photo gear."
One afternoon as the captives lunched on rasam rice, Anburaj the youngest of the wild pack aimed, ready to shoot.
His rifle, the photographers noticed, was still dangling from his shoulder, it was a Nikon that he was aiming! Krupakar jumped in excitement: Veerappan's men had picked up their camera too while ransacking their house! There were only eleven frames remaining.
"The chain of circumstances was strange," says an amused Krupakar. "We had actually wanted to meet Veerappan. Now he had walked 150 km looking for us. We had never planned to bring our camera. But once again, they had done the job for us!''
When Krupakar pointed out the irony to Veerappan the brigand roared with laughter and pointing to his creased forehead said: "Such is fate. Look I have myself come all the way to you. You can now realise your dream of photographing me."
On the fifth day at the third stop over near the Mudhumalai ridge Senani shot his first frame: a chortling Veerappan with a dimple peeping over his bristling moustache.
By the eighth day the distance between the captors and the captives had narrowed. "Accompanied by Dr. Mythi [another hostage] we preached the sayings of the Mahatma and the Buddha," says Krupakar. "Veerappan would listen to us and ask childlike questions. We were impressed by his observation power and knowledge of the jungle."
As the embers glowed in golden hue he would snuggle close to the fire to warm himself, patiently waiting to partake the brownsweet concoction. ''That would have been a brilliant picture. But with just a few more shots remaining we decided to ignore the photo opportunity," says Senani. The next chance came on the 12th day and it was too good to be missed. One of the gangsters felled a sambar weighing nearly 70 kilos. Like a dutiful housewife drying wet linen on a clothesline, the young Anburaj hung the blood-dripping meat from the boughs of a tree, rifle in hand all the time. The gang would survive on dried meat over the next few days.
"We saw a multitude of dimensions in Veerappan," says Krupakar. "He resembled an elusive predator but with a highly emotional heart and wildly fluctuating mind. His capacity to reason is limited." The smuggler-poacher, the captives observed, was swayed by music and danced to the tunes from the radio.
Veerappan apparently regretted the abduction. "I know you are good people," he told his captives. "I will eventually release you but I want to see how the government reacts."
According to Krupakar and Senani the brigand was sentimental on the day they were released. Every article lifted from Senani's house was returned. The photographers left behind their walkman, a recorder and a pair of shoes for the jungle boys. With folded hands and a stoic gaze Veerappan looked on as Senani shot him a final time. In a strange reversal of roles a couple of hostages had managed to make the bandit king freeze. - The Week
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