Shevlin Sebastian's Blog, page 11

Book reading and author interaction

Thanks to the Cochin Book Club and Kochi Overboard, had a good time at the book reading session and author interaction at the French Toast, Kacheripady, Kochi on Sunday.  

Captions:

1) A side view of the participants

2) With Arya who came all the way from Kottayam

3) With Rosa Juju Abraham (extreme left), Seetha Dharmaratnam, and Shoba

4) The youngsters: (from left} Krithvi Shyam, Parvathy Nair and Monica Deidra Mendez

5) With former colleagues Anna Mathews and TS Preetha

6) Signing copies

7) With Nishil (extreme left), J George Potamkulam and Harris Ali, the founder of the Cochin Book Club

Book reading and author interaction

Hi Friends, there is a book reading of 'The Stolen Necklace', and author interaction at the French Toast, Kacheripady, Kochi at 4 pm on August 20.

This is being organised by Kochi Overboard and Cochin Book Club.

If you like to register, you will have to go to kochioverboard.com.

Here are the details of the day's programme:

 Trivia challenge: Recollect the fond tales you've read and compete to claim your spot as the ultimate bookworm!

 Mystery Book Swap: Bring a book you wish to surprise a fellow member with, swap for a wrapped secret yourself.

 Meet the Writers: Meet the writers of Kochi to discover their literary journey and maybe mold yours as well! 

Grateful thanks to the Sunday magazine of 'The New Indian Express' for this review

Justice, lost and found

A high-paced book based on a true story that brings forth the gaps in India’s law and order

By Saurabh Sharma/Express News Service

In March 2021, veteran journalist Shevlin Sebastian encountered VK Thajudheen’s ordeal in a media report. The businessman, who had been living in Doha for over a decade, had come to Kerala in June 2018 for his daughter’s wedding. A month later, when he, along with his family, was on his way to their home in Kadirur in Kannur district, the police stopped their car, accusing him of stealing a necklace.

When Thajudheen’s wife intervened and asked for proof, she was presented a blurry photograph—of
a middle-aged, balding man fleeing the crime scene on a two-wheeler—obtained from a CCTV. She concurred the thief looked like her husband, confirming the police’s hunch. But before putting him behind bars, they tried to extort money in exchange for Thajudheen keeping his reputation intact. When that did not yield the desired result, they cuffed him.

Consequently, the businessman spent 54 agonising days in jail before getting acquitted of all (false) charges. Sebastian knew it was a story worth telling. If Thajudheen could be incarcerated for a crime he didn’t commit, it could happen to anyone, thus embarking on a journey to locate what’s ailing the system in which innocent people are framed, and what the possible solutions to unlawful arrests could be.

The result? A concise but tell-all, page-turning account, The Stolen Necklace: A Small Crime in a Small Town. The book begins with the nikah of Thajudheen’s daughter. It captures his sentiments as his daughter is about to set foot in a new chapter of her life. He tells her, “...always try to have a loving relationship with everybody. In short, adjust to your husband and get along with your in-laws. If you can achieve that, life will be enjoyable,” completely unaware that it was his life that was about to take an irreversible turn.
Convicted in a case of mistaken identity, his story underlines the problems that ail the system.

The book notes that the police and similar institutes are overwhelmingly corrupt, have a disregard for the law and its instruments, and possess an unwillingness to transform themselves. One wonders if Thajudheen would have been able to take his woes to the masses, triggering an investigation, had it not been for his connections.

What would anyone else, without such resources, have done in a similar situation?

Interestingly, the tale also happens to be a case in point for leveraging social media for getting justice. When the family reached out to Shahul Hameed, personal assistant to MLA TV Ibrahim, the latter shared Thajudheen’s plight on Facebook. “Thajudheen has suffered a loss of respect and a financial loss,” he wrote, adding, “The future of his children is uncertain. This family is on the verge of suicide. They should get justice. We have brought it to the attention of the Chief Minister, the leader of the Opposition, the Human Rights Commission, the Minority Commission and the media. We will be with him till he gets justice.” 
The post attracted 2,200 likes, 749 comments and 7,000 shares, Sebastian notes. And in an hour, “an online Malayalam channel made a story based on this post and put it up on the web. By evening, four lakh people had viewed it,” the author adds.

Concluding the narrative, which not only deftly connects odd dots throughout the book, but also sheds light on the politics of north Kerala—the rift between the RSS-BJP and the CPI(M) that has led to the death of “over 250” party workers from both sides over the years–– Sebastian notes that while Thajudheen unwaveringly believed that the “truth will emerge one day”, it’s not always enough.

As an immediate solution, he recommends the worldwide adoption of Article 14 of the UN Charter of Human Rights and further makes a case for an NGO like the Innocence Project in the US, which can serve as a tool to help people like Thajudheen seek justice and redressal. But the implementation, much like the compensation Thajudheen has been seeking, remains shrouded in darkness.

https://www.newindianexpress.com/life...

Book reading photos

https://www.facebook.com/shevlin.seba...

Book reading of 'The Stolen Necklace'

 

Mainstream Weekly's review of 'The Stolen Necklace'

 

Photo: VK Thajudheen and his family

Mainstream, VOL 61 No 24, June 10, 2023

A Story of Police Injustice – And Reprieve | M.R. Narayan Swamy

Friday 9 June 2023

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BOOK REVIEW

by M.R. Narayan Swamy

The Stolen Necklace: A Small Crime in a Small Town
by Shevlin Sebastian and V.K. Thajudheen

HarperCollins India
Pages: xi + 249
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 9356296855
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-9356296855
Price: Rs 399

It happened in a small town in Kerala but it could have happened anywhere in India – and to anyone, more so if one couldn’t pull the right strings. V.T. Thajudheen was adamant he had committed no crime. Yet the police were sure he snatched a gold necklace of a woman, and even had photographic evidence of him in the act. Now, how could this be possible?

A middle-aged man working in Doha, Thajudheen had returned to Thalassery in northern Kerala for his daughter’s marriage when his nightmare began. On his return home after the nikah, he was confronted by a group of police personnel led by Sub-Inspector P. Biju of the Chakkarakkal police station.

The police insisted he had stolen the necklace. For proof, a policeman flashed a grab taken from a CCTV. It showed a balding man with thick ears seated on a white Honda Activa scooter. He was bespectacled and had a scraggly black beard. He also had a black watch on the left hand.

True, the man resembled Thajudheen. Even he felt so. Bit he neither had a scooter nor could he recognize the place where the incident took place on the afternoon of July 5, 2018. But it was a frightening accusation. Anyone who saw the CCTV footage was likely to believe that Thajudheen was the culprit.

Even before he and his family members could digest what was happening, Officer Biju let the cat out of the bag. There could be a "compromise", he suggested; if Thajudheen paid the cost of the gold chain, no arrest would be made, and "your reputation will be intact". For good measure, Biju added: "Your daughter has just got married. The reputation of your family is at stake. We will inform the media that you are the thief (if there is no compromise)."

In simple words, the police were demanding a bribe – to let him go. Thajudheen refused to bow down. He concluded there was hardly any difference between the police and criminals in India except that one of them wore khaki. He knew that succumbing now would lead to more blackmail. After some initial hesitation, his family agreed. His son had dreamt of joining the police; now he was not so sure.

Once Thajudheen refused to pay up and insisted he was innocent and was being framed, the police hardened their stance. Rough interrogation followed. He was also suspected of involvement in the murder of a jewellery shop owner a few years ago as well as another chain-snatching incident. The court went by what the police said. Thajudheen was sent to jail where he would spend an agonizing 54 days.

Like most simple and law-abiding people, Thajudheen had lived in a bubble amid family and friends. The police, judiciary, and bureaucracy were all far removed from his life. Now he found himself behind bars, sharing space with real and alleged criminals. It was morale-shattering. He often skipped breakfast. He became thinner and thinner, shedding about 25 kg. His eyes sunk and he developed a stoop. Many nights he cried himself to sleep. When he finally walked out of prison, his hands and legs were like sticks. His cheeks and chest had shrunk. His stubble was mostly white hair.

Thanks to the efforts of his family and friends who raised a stink and with help took up the issue with Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan, a fresh investigation was launched. This led to the real culprit who very much resembled the man in the CCTV and was already in jail over another crime. Thajudheen was released and became an instant media celebrity. Neighbours and others who had believed he was indeed a thief meekly apologized. But the false accusation and time spent in prison had done grave psychological and emotional damage to him.

Amid a public uproar, the police withheld officer Biju’s annual salary increment for three years. A lawyer filed a case demanding Biju’s dismissal from the police. Thajudheen unfortunately faced further problems on his return to Qatar although these had nothing to do directly with the Kerala ordeal. He eventually returned to India to a subdued routine life.

The book is based on a real story although written like a racy fiction. The charges against Thajudheen may have been purely criminal in nature but we know there are countless Thajudheens who suffer long years in custody and also undergo terrible torture after being accused of unproven terrorist offences. In both cases, the police find it easy to frame innocents in a bid to "solve" difficult cases. What happened to Thajudheen is a shame; what happens to the other Thajudheens who have no one to back them is a scandal.

Many thanks to pinklungi.com for this review

 https://pinklungi.com/the-stolen-neck...

Good reel

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CsyqRg... 

Shashi Tharoor: brilliant, charming and down-to-earth

By Shevlin Sebastian

At 1.20 p.m. on a day in June, Thiruvananthapuram MP Shashi Tharoor strode into the lobby of his apartment building. Since he was ahead of his aides, I approached him.

“Hello, Mr. Tharoor,” I said.

“Hi,” he replied. “Your name?”

“I am Shevlin,” I said.

“As in Shevlin Sebastian,” he said. “I remember the byline.”

You can imagine what this did to me. The last time I met Shashi Tharoor was over ten years ago. And it is very unusual for non-journalists to use the word byline.

When journalists meet for the first time, and we exchange names, sometimes we say, “Oh yes, I have seen your byline.”

We keep track of who writes what, when and where.

But when Tharoor said this, I realised he had been interacting with journalists for decades now. Plus, he is an avid reader of newspapers. So Tharoor may have filed some names away in his phenomenal memory.

Of course, the prosaic explanation is that, most probably, his aide would have told him a journalist would be meeting him at 1 p.m. and mentioned the name.

I showed him the cover of my non-fiction book, ‘The Stolen Necklace.’

“It has been published by HarperCollins," I said.

"What's the story?" he said, as we walked towards the entrance of his ground-floor apartment.

As he heard the early bits of the narration, he immediately said, “I have heard about this case. Didn’t it happen in North Kerala?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“What happened to the cop?” he said.

“Nothing,” I replied.

“No disciplinary action?” he said.

“No,” I said.

“Very sad,” he said, shaking his head.

Inside his apartment, the striking feature was that the books written by Tharoor were pasted high up on a wall, just near a wooden ceiling.

As we conversed, a man appeared. He turned out to be a director on a TV channel. He gave a wedding card to Tharoor. It was his daughter’s marriage. Tharoor’s aide seemed to have informed him earlier about the matter.

Tharoor immediately said, “I am sorry I cannot come to the wedding because I have a function in Kochi.”

But he promised he would come another day.

I asked him whether he would read the book.

“To be honest, I am exhausted by this work [as an MP]. I rarely get time," he said. “But I do get time on planes. So I will read it. I have always liked your writing style.”

A journalist friend who knows Tharoor said that he is a master at speed reading. Apparently, he only has to scan a page with his eyes. I don’t know how true this is. But in less than 24 hours, he put out a tweet. It was succinct and explained the book well.

Here is the tweet:

‘Pleased to receive a copy of “The Stolen Necklace” from journalist @Shevlin_S, the true-life story of a gross miscarriage of justice in Kerala, when an innocent man was jailed and ruined on suspicion of being a necklace thief.

‘This was the result of a shoddy investigation that relied on his passing resemblance to the real culprit on CCTV footage.

‘Shevlin Sebastian writes well, and the story is full of lessons for our policing and justice systems.’

Tharoor has been brilliant for a long time.

Here is an entry from Wikipedia: Tharoor was awarded the Robert B. Stewart Prize for the best student at the Fletcher School at Tufts University. He was also the first editor of the Fletcher Forum of International Affairs. At 22, he was the youngest person to receive a doctorate in the history of the Fletcher School.

Tharoor had a 29-year career at the United Nations where he became Under Secretary-General. He quit the organisation in 2007. And at age 51, he had the courage, tenacity, and determination to embark on a new career in politics. Tharoor has made a success of it by becoming a three-term MP. How many people can have two successful back-to-back careers? Only a handful, I think.

In person, Tharoor radiates charm and a down-to-earth manner.

We can only hope that one day, he will become the Chief Minister of Kerala, and through a throw of the dice, why not, even the Prime Minister of India.

Many thanks to 'The Week' for their coverage

The Stolen Necklace review: Gripping tale of man trapped in broken system

It is based on the real-life story of Thajudheen, a man wrongly accused of robbery
By Anansiya Sabu Updated


What do you do when the people who you are meant to trust your life with, are scarier than the ones who are after your life? It is incredible how stubborn people can be, even when they are wrong. It is even more incredible how the vanguards of our legal system will not change their ways even after being called out. When they become a legal nightmare, one must resign to the fact that our democracy has lost its plot.

The Stolen Necklace chronicles the real-life story of V.K. Thajudheen – a man wrongly accused of robbery, and who had to endure 54 days in prison and, till today, has not been compensated for the mental, emotional, and physical trauma he was subjected to. The book has been jointly authored by Thajudheen and Shevlin Sebastian – a seasoned journalist who had been following the case from day one.

Law enforcement in India is notorious for being quick to mete out punishment. Pressure from higher authorities often makes it impossible for policemen to act impartially. But it is the ordinary bystander who suffers because of this. He becomes the pawn who must be sacrificed in order to close the case.

In this novel, the cops from Chakkarakkal, a small town in Kerala, accuse a man of chain-snatching, based on the evidence of a single CCTV screen grab. They seem to be hell-bent on not letting him go without a bribe. In a single moment, the life of the middle-aged father of three, with a newly-wedded daughter, is turned upside down. He becomes a criminal caught in the cross-hairs of bruised egos and unjust tactics.

In simple language, one is taken through the trials and tribulations of the protagonist. At the Thalassery prison, uncertainty and loneliness become constant companions. In a place where everyone is treated as sub-human, it is a struggle to maintain his humanity. As the days bleed into each other, memories become a less painful companion. “Every night ends in dawn” becomes a constant refrain, as Thajudheen vows never to give up, even as hope slowly starts dwindling.

The book provides rich insights and highlights other cases of the police wrongfully accusing innocent people, while the actual perpetrators go scot-free. The story does not end with Thajudheen being proved innocent before the law. The irreversible damage caused by the reckless investigation and brutal misuse of the law does not simply disappear in a few days. A man once convicted will live the rest of his life in fear, constantly looking over his shoulder. Everyone deserves justice, but when the system that is tasked with providing it is faulty, it ends up being an unattainable dream for many.

The Stolen Necklace

By Shevlin Sebastian and V.K. Thajudheen

Published by HarperCollins

Price Rs 399; pages 249 

https://www.theweek.in/review/books/2...