Crime: Hunting; Bucking the Law

Most hunters get away with murder in India. But Bollywood's shooting star is caught in a widening whirlpool of votes, politics -- and his own malfeasance.

He shudders even now when he tells his story. The dusty chases across the fields, the chinkara sweating in the moonlight, the gunshots that interrupt the silence of the night. Then the crunch of shoe on sand as Salman Khan stepped off the Maruti Gypsy and unclasped his knife. For Harish Kumar Dulani, the driver, this part of the tale is the toughest to tell. "He would then slit the deer's throat, clean his hands, and the others would cover the blood with sand." No one complained that the chinkara was an endangered species, not a voice was raised about the law. Life is cheap in the desert.

Not for the Bishnois. For centuries they have carried on a sublime romance with nature. It is a bond so uncommon, that in M.K. Ranjitsinh's book Beyond The Tiger, there is a photograph of a young Bishnoi woman suckling a blackbuck fawn. On October 1, Salman had no idea he'd gone shooting in the wrong place. When he -- accompanied by Saif Ali Khan, Tabu, Sonali Bendre and Neelam, all down in Jodhpur to make a film -- allegedly gunned down two blackbucks in Gudda Bishnoi, the Bishnois were watching. They attacked him, chased him, damaged his Gypsy and reported him to the forest officials. Displaying a disregard to a blatant poaching incident, the forest officials hemmed, hawed and finally got a move on only when the Dainik Bhaskar, a local daily, reported the killings.

Nine days later, officials stormed into the Umaid Palace Hotel, for a collective questioning of the film stars. The three actresses wept on interrogation, revealing that they had gone with Salman to Gudda Bishnoi, but explaining tearfully, "We did go there but never shot. We only clapped." It was good enough an answer to get them off, and accompanied by Saif, who also got bail, they escaped to Mumbai with a Rs 15.5 lakh bill for the producers to pay. And leaving Salman as the central character in Jodhpur's most captivating drama.

Every day the case took a twist, then a turn, a classic Hindi film pot-boiler leaping to life. There were the arrogant film stars and the defiant Bishnois; there were the missing guns that turned up in Mumbai and a science-defying post-mortem report that attributed the death of the blackbucks to "leaping"; there were the bristling environment activists who wanted a pound of Salman's flesh and the simpering, star-struck wives of officials who wanted some as well too. And of course where such theatre reigned, politicians were bound to congregate: the Congress baying that the law must be equal for all, and the ruling BJP baying in return that it was. Were they anxious that justice would be denied or just scheming to get the huge block of Bishnoi votes before the coming election? Phew, Subhash Ghai would blush at such a plot.

Maybe it was all much simpler. Just a gung-ho celebrity caught breaking the law. After all, as Ashok Kumar of the Wildlife Protection Society of India, says, "Celebrity hunting has always gone on." Shikar has never truly been a business, but a courtesy extended by elite families to old friends. A Mumbai film star involved in other criminal cases is a familiar name in poaching circles, so is a well-heeled industrial family from Delhi, whose members were allegedly caught hunting from their helicopter in Corbett National Park, Uttar Pradesh. Indeed, search the deep-freeze of a well-known princeling living in Delhi and the odds are it'll be well stocked with blackbuck steaks. Hardly a secret. As Kumar explains, "People taunt me at Delhi cocktail parties, 'come home and I'll give you venison'."

The storm in the desert began brewing from the day Salman Khan arrived in Jodhpur to shoot Hum Saath Saath Hain, a Rajshri Productions film. He had no inkling that weeks later he would be in custody, sleeping in a hell straight out of the movies: a desert cooler, no silk sheets, and armed guards instead of room service. If he did, he wouldn't have complained that his plush Umaid Palace Hotel room was too small. So what if Sonali, Tabu and Neelam had similar rooms; he demanded, and was given, a suite. The hero was turning into a swaggering villain. He was haughty with hotel staff. He constantly lost his shirt, literally so, strutting bare-bodied along hotel corridors. And when he and Saif got bored, they lined up soft drink bottles, drew their guns -- police say he carried a revolver in his waistband -- and played cowboys. Salman should have left it at that, his only crime being excessive testosterone and puffed-up machismo. Chasing down blackbucks and slitting their throats was entirely a different matter.

According to information gathered by India Today, the hunt began on the evening of September 26. At Umaid Palace, driver Dulani was told to arrange for sightseeing trips for hotel guests by Dushyant Singh, who looked after Travelaide, a company owned by Gaj Singh, erstwhile ruler of Jodhpur. At about 10 p.m., Dulani was pleased but surprised when Salman Khan arrived and asked if he could drive. Satish Shah sat with him in the front with Dulani and four others in the rear. One of them, Yashpal, guided Salman to Bavad village, off Nagaur road, 40 km away from Umaid Palace. There, as if on request, a herd of chinkaras awaited them.

GUARDIANS OF THE WILD

Salman Khan's nemesis, the Bishnois, are a community of martyrs. Death is a hazard when you protect the things others covet dearly. For more than 500 years the Bishnois sacrificed their lives to protect trees and animals, particularly deer, on their arid lands, a legacy of their guru's word handed down over the generations. In Khejrala village, close to where the beefy star and his friends killed two blackbucks, stands a memorial to their fierce commitment to nature. It records a carnage in 1730, when Amrita Devi, a Bishnoi woman, and 362 of her people were killed over a month, trying to stop a medieval chieftain carting away wood for his palace. Fittingly, a Rs 50,000 state award for conservation is named after her. The 1997 award went to Nihal Chand Bishnoi, a youth who was shot while trying to protect deer from poachers. Even in these trying times of shrinking space and exploding population, the Bishnois cling to their sacred traditions: they will not pluck leaves, not even break off datun, the chewy twig used as a toothbrush. Five years ago, incensed villagers refused to let an air force helicopter take off; it had landed after some airborne hunting. Two years ago an army officer caught hunting deer was soundly thrashed by the Bishnois. Salman is lucky they never actually managed to lay their hands on him.

As Dulani said in his statement, Khan fired twice and missed. Satish Shah egged him on, "Jama ke lagao (Do it properly)." The third shot was fatal. Khan got down and cut the chinkara's throat and then, after killing another one, drove back to the hotel. Yashpal then took the Gypsy to another hotel, managed to get the kitchen opened at 2:30 a.m. and asked Dulani to leave. Later, the hotel owner and the cook were also arrested for cooking the deer meat.

Next day, on September 27, Dulani washed the Gypsy of dust and blood. The hunt resumed, but no deer were found. The following day Salman, driving with Saif and Dushyant, seemed to be satisfied just running the chinkara ragged, chasing them till they could run no longer. Later that night they returned, and this time a chinkara was shot. On October 1, all the film stars went out and two blackbucks were shot. But this time, as Choga Ram, one of the complainants who lives in Gudda Bishnoi and chased the Gypsy, says, "They strayed too close to our homes."

Despite the confrontation, the actors seemed to keep faith in their status, that celebrity would ensure they were left alone. Yet, it is rumoured that they manipulated the post-mortem report, turning it into a joke: deer was spelt as "dear" and the cause of death was stated to be "overeating". Even so, on October 12 Salman was arrested and charged with killing three chinkaras.

As arguments over his remand continued, thousands of curious spectators invaded the grimy courthouse; local advocates gaped in awe, insistent women were assured by police officers of an audience with the actor, and Salman just sat with his face in his hands. He seemed confident of freedom. When bail was denied his face fell. Days later when Salman was eventually released on bail for killing two blackbucks, he was immediately rearrested by the police for the slaughter of three chinkaras.

Most days of his life Salman hurdles two-storey buildings, walks through fire and disarms 14 men with one hand, all without a scratch; but it will take far more dexterity to escape unscathed if it is proved he snuffed out the life of a single deer. Killing the blackbuck and chinkara, both Schedule 1 animals on the endangered list is a violation of the Wildlife Protection Act, 1972, and promises the hero anywhere from one to six years in prison -- in places where Kader Khan is not the jailor. Add the cooking of the meat of endangered species, which invites punishment up to seven years, and the numbers begin to get scary.

There is clearly a vicarious interest in the case. Royalty, politics and religion is mixing with the law. A sizeable community, the Bishnois have been serenaded by political parties: Pradesh Congress Committee President Ashok Gehlot, for instance, stood on their shoulders to get to the Lok Sabha. Now the BJP is doing the wooing. Jaswant Singh Bishnoi, the environment and wildlife minister, pleaded strongly with Chief Minister Bhairon Singh Shekhawat to act firmly against the accused. With the elections next month, Shekhawat has done just that.

More muted is the suggestion that the common religious domination of Salman, Saif and Tabu is evidence of a communal conspiracy launched by the Rajputs, yet it is an allegation that has not won many believers. Add to this a twist of royalty and it becomes a potent cocktail -- Dushyant, one of the main accused and now evading arrest, is connected to Gaj Singh, the erstwhile ruler of Jodhpur. This case clearly is not heading for a simple solution.

Yet in the plains there is some peace now. The blackbuck and chinkara, who move with the grace of sculptures come alive, prefer the open lands instead of the closed-in forests. It makes them easier to see, to enjoy, to appreciate. It also makes them easier to be hunted. But at least they are a little safer than they were last week.