It was one of the most awaited events of the 1996 Assembly election in Tamil Nadu. With just a week remaining to conclude the campaign, Rajinikanth was returning from the U.S. to Chennai on April 20, with an overnight stopover in Mumbai. He was expected to make a big statement.
I had just returned to my desk after witnessing the election campaign across Tamil Nadu for more than a week, touching several districts — a rare opportunity for a city-bound journalist. I was set to plunge back into work. Then came the assignment. Rajinikanth was to arrive in Chennai the next day. Rush to Mumbai by a late evening flight, and return with him, so we would have an exclusive story.
A ticket was purchased by the night flight, including the return leg that Rajinikanth would take, with the aviation correspondent tracking his movement. I prepared for a red-eye mission because the task involved many things: finding out where the actor would be staying between flights to ensure that nothing was missed, tailing him, and buttonholing him on the plane.
It was not hard to discover that he would be staying at the airport VIP lounge. Sure enough, he arrived from Las Vegas and was whisked off. There were a few hours for the Air India flight to Chennai, and there was nothing to do but maintain vigil.
Rajinikanth would obviously not join the check-in queue and it was almost time to get the boarding card. Suddenly, I noticed a fellow journalist from Chennai going up to AI’s first class counter. My heart sank as I realised that I had been given an economy class ticket, which would take me no closer to the actor than any of the others in the rear of the plane. Disaster loomed, with the prospect of ignominy that a rival would have an exclusive story, and I would have only an excuse.
Making a dash to the counter, I told the attendant what the purpose of the visit was and no matter what, I had to be on a seat next to Rajinikanth. It meant paying to upgrade, which, miraculously, was possible. But the adjacent seat was already taken by the other journalist. The one behind was available, and I got it.
Close to boarding time, the star emerged early in the morning. By now, a couple of Mumbai journalists, obviously tipped off by airport or Chennai sources, had also arrived. But no comment was available from the ‘thalaivar’.
I spent the hour-and-a-half on board standing, craning to hear every word he was saying. A foreigner in the seat next to mine showed his irritation, remarking, “You must be in love with him!” Rajinikanth was charming, exhibiting no resentment that he had been ambushed and cornered inside the plane. He kept talking, but politely declined sharp political questions.
No show: On Rajinikanth
At the Chennai airport, there was a media throng. Rajinikanth announced that the DMK-Tamil Maanila Congress combine would get an absolute majority. The Hindu carried a front-page story the next day, also describing the atmosphere on the plane. Rajinikanth had said on the flight, “God is there, he will see me through” on how he would manage the thick of politics, and “Let me finish this five-year project” to advance the electoral prospects of the DMK-TMC alliance. I had no byline, but Rajini fans across the office were awestruck that I was with him on the plane.