It didn’t make it to the papers

Vishav Bharti

I STOPPED talking to journalists long back,” the man on the other end of the line said in a stern voice. As a cub reporter, I was disheartened. A Marxist scholar, Prof Randhir Singh was putting up in Chandigarh in the year 2008. “Sir, I have read some of your works,” I implored, quickly rattling off his recent works. “Okay, see me in the afternoon. I will see what I can do for you,” brusquely I was told.

Nepali Maoist leader Baburam Bhattarai had just surfaced from a decade-long underground life. Word had spread that the revolutionary leader would become Prime Minister of the republic-in-making. We were exploring a story on his connection with City Beautiful. Baburam Bhattarai had graduated from the Chandigarh College of Architecture, and Prof Randhir Singh had written the preface of his latest book Monarchy Vs Democracy: The Epic Fight in Nepal.

A little nervous, I reached his home. He listened attentively to the purpose of my visit, put up a couple of questions and then started speaking about the situation in Nepal. He was mesmerising. He went on speaking. I listened in rapt attention. “This is the most crucial stage in Nepal. Baburam is the most versatile and effective leader among the lot. He deserves to lead that nation after all these sacrifices,” he asserted.

When I was about to leave, he said, “I know you are here not just for Nepal. You are looking for some news.”

“This was the room where Hisila Yamili [Baburam’s wife] stayed for weeks sometime back,” he said.

It was a small room, with a single bed in one corner and a small study table in another. I looked around. There was nothing notable in there, except a beautiful bookshelf, with rows and rows of books placed in order.

“She had some health problem and required surgery at a local hospital. But don’t write this in the newspaper,” he instructed me.

At the time, Hisila was known as Comrade Parvati to the world outside through her Monthly Review articles.

He said he was also the local guardian of their daughter who was studying in Delhi. The girl, enrolled as Asmita Singh (real name Manushi), topped her class in Lady Shri Ram College. The man, who was Nepal’s most wanted till some time back, would visit him sometimes in those days. “But it is not for writing in the newspaper.” I nodded.

“I liked talking to you, drop by sometimes,” he saw me off warmly.

The scholar who was not ready to even talk to me had shared confidential information. ‘Nepal PM’s secret shelter in Chandigarh’ would have made for a nice headline. But the scoop never made it to the news columns.