In Bangalore and beyond, the fans of Indian actor Rajkumar have been in a fever of anticipation awaiting news of their idol's release from captivity. But, as the weekend approached, the 72-year-old matinee idol had still to emerge from the jungle where he has been held hostage by Veerappan, the country's most fearsome outlaw.
The saga has held India spellbound for the past two weeks. Compared with reports of massacres and diplomacy in Kashmir, this has been a story of almost classical simplicity. On one hand, a veteran movie star and cultural icon beloved by all. On the other, a ruthless bandit who has murdered, kidnapped and shot his way to infamy.
Rajkumar is revered as a demi-god in his native state of Karnataka and Veerappan is notorious as the subject of modern India's longest-running manhunt. By trade a smuggler of sandalwood and ivory, he is alleged to have murdered more than 120 people and killed some 2,000 elephants. In a country where dacoits (bandits) are legion, Veerappan is the deadliest and most elusive of them all.
The drama began on the last Sunday in July when a dozen armed men surrounded the actor's ancestral home and rural retreat just inside the border of Tamil Nadu state. "Don't talk, we want Sir," one of the gang told the friends and relatives who had assembled at Rajkumar's property for a celebration. Armed with AK-47 rifles, they soon found their quarry and tied his hands with rope. An audio cassette with a list of instructions was presented by Veerappan to Rajkumar's wife before the gang disappeared into the night with the actor and three of his guests.
Chaos erupted on the streets of the Karnataka capital, Bangalore, when news of the kidnap broke the following day. Shops, schools and cinemas closed, effigies of Veerappan were burned and one person was stabbed to death. Such is the popularity of Rajkumar that all commercial activity ground to a halt in the country's premier cyber-city.
Visited earlier this year by the Tanaiste Mary Harney and an Irish trade delegation, Bangalore is known locally as "the fastest-growing city in Asia" and "the Silicon Valley of India". That "a forest goon" could bring the country's dotcom capital to its knees was a source of wonder to India's national media but made absolute sense to fans of Rajkumar, veteran of more than 200 blockbusters in Karnataka's Kannada language. If the popular thespian was slightly past his "sell-by" date, no one was saying so. "Dr Rajkumar is the Kannada film industry's sacred pillar," declared the Indian Express. "(He) is irreplaceable as a denizen of every virtue."
Alongside pictures of "the uncrowned king of Karnataka" appeared images of another king: "The Bandit King". Sporting a lavish handlebar moustache and a security-guard uniform, Veerappan looks like a cross between a Victorian explorer and a guerrilla commander.
Though he has successfully evaded capture during four decades of murder and mayhem, he has posed for the camera a number of times. Among those who have taken his picture are two wildlife photographers whom he kidnapped in 1997 and "Nakkeeran" Gopal, the editor of a Tamil magazine.
On the cassette tape he left behind before leading Rajkumar and the others off into the jungle, Veerappan demanded that Gopal should act as an intermediary between him and the authorities. The editor, who played a similar role three years ago, last week found himself packing his bags for another trip into the jungle to meet India's most wanted man.
"Don't be misled by the thought that I will not kill the hostages and will release them safely," Veerappan warned on the audio tape given to Rajkumar's wife. That he was capable of such evil, few doubted. Since launching his criminal career as a teenage poacher of wildlife, he has cut a swathe of butchery across southern India, in one instance decapitating a police officer and leaving his headless torso for the vultures. According to some rumours, the ruthless brigand enjoys boiling his prisoners alive.
The chief ministers of Karnataka and Tamil Nadu states met to discuss the crisis and a massive search was launched by the security forces. However, this was soon abandoned for fear it might endanger the lives of the hostages.
As Rajkumar's family issued desperate pleas on national radio for their release and an uneasy calm returned to the streets of Bangalore, speculation grew as to the nature of Veerappan's demands. According to some reports, he wanted a huge ransom, according to others, an amnesty for himself and his gang. In his 50s and suffering from asthma, Veerappan is apparently keen to leave the jungle and start a new life.
That he had chosen to abduct such a high-profile actor was a clear indication that he meant business. In the past, Veerappan had taken many hostages. He had even talked of capturing foreign tourists or Indian politicians, but with Rajkumar he appeared to have hit the kidnap jackpot. This time he knew he would be taken seriously.
In Karnataka, temples, mosques and churches filled with people praying for the safe return of their idol. One fan, unable to stand the agony and tension any longer, committed suicide by taking poison.
However, as a cassette smuggled out of the jungle and sent to a Tamil journalist revealed, Rajkumar was alive and well.
"I never thought I would develop this kind of intimacy with this group of people who are called thieves and rabble-rousers", declared a voice which was authenticated by Rajkumar's family as being that of the veteran actor. "All of them are treating me with brotherly devotion."
According to those who have previously been kidnapped by Veerappan, the bandit enjoys company and likes to dance to music on the radio. Hostages share with their captors simple meals of rice, beans and meat. When it rains, they sleep under canvas shelters around which drainage ditches have been dug.
By last weekend, Veerappan's terms had become more or less clear. In another cassette recording, the kidnapper listed his demands: a fair share of southern India's river water for Tamils, the proclamation of Tamil as Karnataka's second official language, the release of Tamil activists and "innocent" prisoners from jail, the unveiling of a statue honouring a Tamil poet in Bangalore and a better deal for tea workers.
Despite rumours that he also wanted the equivalent of £9.4 million, the politicians insisted that no money was involved. But either way, it was clear the authorities were being held to ransom.
With peace on the streets of Bangalore and the safety of a leading film star at stake, the authorities were ready to strike a deal. All Veerappan's terms would be met, declared the chief ministers of Karnataka and Tamil Nadu.
That the bandit's demands centred not on himself but on the welfare of the Tamil people led to the conclusion that he had become a Tamil militant or that his outfit had been infiltrated by Tamil secessionists. They also enhanced his reputation as a Tamil version of Robin Hood, a reputation which he has long enjoyed in some of the impoverished villages which skirt his 6,000 square kilometre jungle habitat.
To many Indians, Veerappan represents the embodiment of the outlaw, the rebel and the romantic free spirit. He occupies a similar position in contemporary Indian mythology as Jesse James in the lore of the Wild West or Ned Kelly in the annals of the Australian outback.
Some see men like Veerappan following in a tradition that goes back centuries to the days of the Thugs, the hereditary secret society of highwaymen who worshipped the gruesome goddess Kali and who strangled travellers on her behalf.
And just as the Thugs had support in high places, so often do many of today's dacoits. That Veerappan has remained at large for so long - escaping from custody not once, but twice - is seen as evidence of the patronage he enjoys. Politicians are now falling over themselves to proclaim that Veerappan can not only be reformed but that he might even become a reformer.
Such suggestions bring comparisons with Phoolan Devi, India's infamous Bandit Queen who has twice in recent years been elected to parliament after an inglorious career as a dacoit leader. Depending on which account one believes, the beautiful lower-caste girl machine-gunned 22 uppercaste men to death in revenge for the rape she suffered, or in revenge for the murder of her lover, before finally surrendering in 1983.
Charismatic and an excellent shot he might be, but whether the uneducated and wayward Veerappan has the stuff of political greatness is open to question.
It is certain that, before long, the Rajkumar kidnap drama will be made into a big-screen extravaganza. There is little doubt that the veteran actor will himself be cast in the lead role. But what of the part of the bandit? Could it be that Veerappan might play himself? It is not inconceivable. When he offered to surrender a few years ago, one of his demands was that a film should be made of his exploits.