Vicky Nanjappa

Vicky Nanjappa

One of my most favourite places in Chamarajpet, Bengaluru was Hunja. My friend and I would make it a point to visit that place every Saturday night and have a rumali roti, kebab and 7 up. It used to be my chief’s off-day and I was in charge of the city desk. Well churning out stories on a Saturday was never easy and the office had extremely skeletal staff.

My day would begin on a lazy note. No High Court that day.  I would wake up a bit late., let’s say 8. I would be off to the barber shop where I would catch up with Sanjit Aiyappa (Bhai). A mandatory head massage followed by a cheap facial, which I have gone back to these days. Every Saturday morning discussion would be on what we should get done at the parlour or should I call it the babes shop. There was also this day when Bhai decided to colour his hair twice. Once to brown and then back to black. Brown was the new black those days.

Alright getting back to reality. I would finish washing clothes, drying them on a terrace as I did not have a balcony in home back then. Once that was done, it would be 2 pm and bang I was at the office. Okay, at the office, reality strikes. What about the stories. Page 2 and 3 was the responsibility of the city desk. Manju on the desk would ask, ‘ story is there no.’ ‘Yes Manju, it is there, we will manage.’ I actually had nothing because the High Court was off. My only bet was Imran bhai, the best crime reporter, I had ever known. Then another person on the shift was an environment reporter. I used to ask bhai, what on earth is he supposed to write. ‘Chodo mere bhai, who toh baalu ke bare me likhega.’ ( Leave it brother, he will only write on bears).

Into the hills after my last dance: Part 1

Into the hills after my last dance: Flashback

The final dance: Journalism is for vertebrates

Okay now let us cut to the chase. Every Saturday after filling up the page, bhai and I would visit this place called Hunja. It was like a tradition for both of us. Okay at that point in time, bhai had introduced me and got a bank account for me in a bank called as GTB. Our salary cheques would be presented there and wow, we had an ATM card as well. Do you remember that feeling?

Alright, then it was Hunja time. We visited the bank and before that I asked him, how much does he have in the account. He told it is 200. I said I have Rs 150. Okay let us get that money out. I am hungry and let us eat something before we get back to the office. Oh wow ATM shut. Ab kya kare? Find out bhai why has this ATM shut down? The cool cat crime reporter that he is, he dialled a lot of numbers only to realise the the bank had closed down. Saala, mera do sau gaya. And I was like my 150 gone. How do we go to Hunja bhai now. No money, can’t eat. Just stood there staring at each other and then finally both agreed. Bhai GTB has closed down. It is a lead story. Chalo jaa ke story likhthe hai. Wonderful journalism.