'The Media Crucified Jigna Vora'

S Hussain Zaidi revisits the events depicted in Netflix's Scoop, which he was privy to as Jigna Vora's editor and mentor of slain journalist J Dey, and assesses how closesly it hews to reality.

11 JUNE 2023. I switched off the TV after binge-watching Hansal Mehta’s web series, Scoop, on Netflix. I closed my eyes, wiped off a few tears and just sat blankly, realising how many years have passed by. Twelve years. Twelve years indeed.

I still remember the phone call that brought me the news of Jyotirmoy Dey (or as I, like many others, called him, “J Dey”) being shot. I rushed to the hospital in Powai. To me, someone like J Dey could not be killed. He was a giant, a Hulk. He had a body no blade could stab, no bullet could pierce. I had seen him working out in the gym, lifting huge weights in the bench press, in squats. Often I would stop working out myself and just see the way he was training, or running or jogging. Thus, on that day for me, it was very difficult to come to terms with the death of such a man.

J Dey died at the age of 57. He came into journalism rather late. Precisely why he was extremely ambitious, he wanted to do a lot of things. He was working on a book at that time (which I later completed in his honour) and had planned to write more. He worked very hard, relentlessly, for all those years as a journalist. But his death 12 years ago, and every 11 June since then, makes me extremely emotional. His killing has left a wound inside me that will never heal.

J Dey’s killing and Jigna Vora’s imprisonment are both etched in the hearts and minds of people — people who knew them personally/professionally, and those who got to know about them through the vicious reportage that the news media did around them 12 years ago. I knew both of them very closely; I had mentored them into the school of crime journalism. They were my proteges and gifted colleagues, and I have so many memories with both.

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'To Live As Someone Else Is Fascinating'

Auteur-actor Dileesh Pothan chats with Neelima Menon about his innings in cinema on either side of the camera.

DILEESH POTHAN has directed three films in Malayalam so far. Maheshinte Prathikaram (2016) was a slice-of-life narrative that revolved around the coming-of-age arc of Mahesh who runs a photo studio in a small town. 2017’s Thondimuthalum Driksakshiyum was a dark comedy set against the backdrop of a small town, and Joji (2020) was a psychological drama that rallied around a rich Christian family in Central Kerala. All three films were resounding critical successes, earning appreciation for their nuanced making and storytelling. That’s how the phrase “Pothan Brilliance” was coined. Meanwhile, Dileesh used the break from directing to act, appearing in close to 70 films.

Dileesh is very matter-of-fact about his flawless track record. He says everything comes from a space of immaculate research, relentless redrafts and improvisations, a superb talent pool of technicians, and an undying passion for this craft. Nothing, he says, appears out of thin air. He has struggled for years as an AD, doubted himself, always dreamt but was unsure of whether he would become a filmmaker.

At the moment, Dileesh is rather elated by the response to his performance in Ranjan Pramod’s O Baby. He spoke with OTTplay about acting, training actors, and his own process.

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Does Maamannan Herald Act II For Vadivelu?

AFTER his refusal to engage in a brawl with his cousin (played by Nassar) is met with brutishness, Sakthi (Kamal Haasan) begins to fight back in the climactic sequence of Thevar Magan (1992). Even though the manic conflict comes to an end with the beheading of the former, the protagonist himself breaks down as if he’s lost the battle because he’s unhappy with his deed. And, so, while walking away from the scene of the murder, Sakthi calls for peace rather than retribution.

Non-violence, therefore, seems to be the message of the movie. But, as far as the takeaway is concerned, something else has elbowed its way in — a tool of pride for the people of dominant castes. In Thevar Magan, several supporting characters fold their hands in a gesture of subservience in front of Sakthi, as he occupies a place of reverence. Isakki (Vadivelu) is one of those men whose life revolves around the leader. He even loses an arm for obeying Sakthi’s orders. But does he have any complaints about it? No.

In the run-up to the release of his film Maamannan, writer-director Mari Selvaraj had said that this reinterpretation of Thevar Magan places Isakki as the principal character. As a result, the camera’s gaze shifts towards the needs and aspirations of people of his ilk. Selvaraj hasn’t merely turned Thevar Magan upside down, he also draws attention to the ills that perpetuate casteism. This casts Vadivelu in a full-fledged role where he flexes more than the comedic chops that have been required of his previous avatars. While Maamannan is being pitched as his Act II, Vadivelu’s adeptness at pulling off a spectacular range of emotions is well-known. But his rise to superstardom has only been possible in comedy. Being stereotyped has been both a blessing and a curse.

— KARTHIK KERAMALU

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