Tuesday 29 December 2009

Gory Stories from the War Zone


Just like any other new place which gives an avid restless mind and wandering eyes new revelations, so has it been with Dantewada. Just sitting under the canopy of a huge tree and listening to a resilient man spinning the charkha is enough to shudder as well as feel optimistic. Perhaps that’s what nature is all about – a continuous process of creation and destruction.

With Himanshuji continuing his fast for the second consecutive day on December 27, his resilience continued to shine, and we knew that the best that we could do was hear tales of strife, persistence, injustice, ignorance, nepotism, and the real meaning of Independence. His words are full of strength and seem to be oblivious to the fact that it had been more than 48 hours since he had any solid in his body. Just water, the potent clear liquid over which states fight and kill people, has been keeping his mind, hands and heart well in place and in tandem.

Rajiv Vora of Hind Swarajpeeth – a trust that is trying to advocate, promote and apply Gandhian vision and methods of nonviolence, Satyagraha, peace with justice and human dignity – arrived on Sunday morning. The Gandhian peppered his experiences and learnings on Gandhian thoughts in chase Hindi, which augmented the tenor of the many discussions that ensued. A classical music aficionado, Rajivbhai gave a new boost to Himanshuji and his father, both of whom would be languidly spinning the charkha, while talking about the days gone by, and the disciplined lives of those whom we today call “leaders".


Two Gandhians: Himanshu Kumar and Rajiv Vora


Rehabilitation of Nendra


Sometime during the course of the day, we were introduced to a volunteer with Vanvasi Chetna Ashram (VCA), who, hitherto, had been singing Bollywood songs in the backyard. This lanky tribal youth has been associated with VCA since over a year, when it was decided to rehabilitate the people of Nendra last year. During one of my conversations with Himanshuji, he had told me that Nendra was one village which was a red ocean – one that was torn apart with various atrocities, and the scars of annihilation were still moist with the tears that continue to shed. Yet, much of the wounds have been healed, with the persistent efforts by VCA and its workers. Today, Nendra is standing on its own, and like most graves, little flowers of hope have begun to bloom. Here is an account of my conversation with the volunteer, whose name I choose not to reveal.


“Nendra is about 150 kms south of Dantewada. When Salwa Judum forces tried to force the people from there into the camps, some of them hid in the forests while quite a good section of them fled into Andhra Pradesh, which is just 40 kms away. As internally displaced people (IDP), it was obvious that they were leading lives of despair. It was imperative that they return to their own land and rebuild their lives. We went to the bordering villages in Andhra Pradesh to survey the situation many times, and we realised that the people were threatened with what they had seen and what the ostracism they were facing as IDPs.


We had several meetings with them, egging them to be courageous and stand up against the Salwa Judum. Finally they acquiesced to get back to Nendra, and we assured to help them in rebuilding their broken homes, dreams, lives.

There were no roads built from Nendra to the bordering villages of Andhra Pradesh. It was July 2008 and the rain gods had begun to prove their existence. We had to set ourselves in those villages first, to be able to get those people back. Our car got stuck in the wet red slush and all the goods we were carrying had to be protected from getting wet. We could not move any further. We ate whatever food we had with us, and there were no hand pumps around, we were left thirsty. We were on bikes at such an area where the cops wouldn't dare venture even during the day! The long night elapsed but the next morning we had to proceed into the interiors of the villages, which actually meant traversing through the wild jungle. We found an angadwadi, cleaned it and set it up as our base. Few days later, we brought back the people of Nendra from Andhra Pradesh to their own village, and thus began the work of constructing the deconstructed among six villages.

Those who did not flee to Andhra Pradesh were hiding in the thick jungle, but had still one or two cows left with them. We brought them back to what seemed to be civilisation. We would go out with them to their farms and help them. Whenever the police would come in, we had to talk to them calmly. So we were on constant vigil in the borders of those agricultural lands. When the people would get back home in the evening, we would go among them and talk to them about moving on in life, by leaving the past behind. We would distribute medicines, clothes as well as yarn to be woven into clothes.

We faced many hurdles initially. There were no markets; we had to walk miles as there was no transport whatsoever since the roads were pathetic. If any of our vehicles broke down we had to bring them to Errabor. At night if anyone fell ill, we would have to administer them with whatever medicines we had, and then wait till morning before we could take them to a hospital. There were no dispensaries there. All the schools which had been built were blown off. Even hand pumps had been removed so the villagers only had a pond to rely on for their water needs.

We continued with our work of providing materials and hope, but we had to face flak too. Once, we were beaten up by the SPOs in Errabor, which is about 8 kms away. The SPOs would tell us, “When none of our men would be able to get back alive from those villages, how on Earth would are you able to walk freely among those villagers? You all definitely must be supporters of the Naxals!” and a hard blow would fall on our backs. But we stood back erect.

Whatever little the people had earned while in Andhra Pradesh was being utilised to make Nendra their home again. We also helped in the implementation of all the governmental schemes that were supposed to be functioning, but were defunct Рthese included the anganwadis and cr̬ches, where we would distribute chocolates among the 35-odd children and then teach them.



A lesser Krishna?


Once, some people, resembling Naxalites, came to enquire about our work. We said that we were doing the work only with the acceptance of the villagers; we weren’t forcing anything upon them. We were providing the villagers only with what they wanted, and that if they did not feel our need, we would leave and extend our help to other villages instead. They understood our intention and left us alone. Slowly, the conditions of the people began to improve. The children were studying; they began to come to school wearing clean clothes and neatly dressed.


But sometimes, forces would still come, ask the villagers some inane questions, and then take them away to the police thana, while beating them all the way. I would follow them to the police thana and plead with the police to let them free. We did this about three-four times. One day, sometime in August this year, one of my two colleagues, Sukhnath, had gone to the market. He heard there that earlier in the day, about five men had already been picked up. So Sukhnath went to the police and pleaded with them to release the men as they were innocent. Then the police told Sukhnath, “Perhaps you too are a Naxal supporter, and hence your commander will have to come here to release you.” Under that pretext, even Sukhnath landed behind bars. The next day, we were frantically searching for him. We went to Konta police thana and another camp too, but they all feigned innocence and said, “We haven’t picked up anyone.” But we later realised that Sukhnath had indeed been arrested.


We then notified about the same to Himanshuji who tried his best to get him free, but Sukhnath is still languishing in the jail today.”


Municipal election results in Dantewada


The scourge of war was evident; the participants in this ghastly war were many. Yet, strange are the ways of the wisdom of crowds, strange are the ways of our democratic set-up. Salwa Judum to me sounds more like “sarkar ka zulm”, and yet, its proponents emerged winners in the recent Municipal elections here. While walking through Dantewada town on Sunday morning, to purchase some lemons for Himanshuji, we saw a huge procession, proclaiming the win of Deepak Karma in the municipal elections. Deepak is the son of Mahendra Karma, a Congress party worker and leader of the Opposition, under whose aegis Salwa Judum gained ground in Chhattisgarh, in 2004. Congress of BJP, suddenly, both the political parties are suddenly united in their strife to bring home MNCs and shoo and shoot away the bow-and-arrow carrying original inhabitants of the state.

The procession was a large one: an entourage of bikers carrying a huge tricolour paraded through the streets first, followed by a truck of supporters who could not contain their happiness upon Karma’s win and used their vocal chords to the best of their abilities. Then, on road, symbolising the people’s true leader, Karma walked through the street – hands folded into a Namaste, large orange garlands around his neck akin to the ones seen at commercialised temples, and grinning like a tantrum-throwing child who is given the first prize in some competition to silence his wails. Of course, Karma was in simple clothes – he didn’t need any kind of protective gear when he had managed to get about a 100 men and women surrounding him as he took his strides. As that large procession walked past, there was more to keep our mouths open in awe – about 50 Salwa Judum special police officers (SPOs), men and women, walked down the road, as though they owned it. They were recognisable by the fatigues that they wore, which perhaps gave a sense of pride – a sense of power over their own people.

When we narrated what we saw to Himanshuji, he only flashed his 1,000-watt smile. Was it the hunger-induced tiredness that resulted in silence? Was the solitary smile a the surrender to the nature of the Indian democratic system where parties unite to fatten their Swiss bank accounts through the cream fed by MNCs, and wean its masses of everything, including life? The silence was too loud. His smile was chilling.


'Chhattisgarhiya Sable Badhiya' - the only independent individuals here are the SPOs


‘I was raped because my husband was a Naxalite’


Later in the evening, during the course of some conversation, the weather was beginning to get eerily cold with new revelations and gory stories. Himanshuji told us about a woman called Ledha, whose story curdled my intestine, yet left me feeling optimistic, by the end of it.


Two years ago, Surguja resident Ledha Bai was “allegedly” raped by Balrampur Superintendent of Police, Sitaram Kalluri. Her fault? Being the wife of a Naxalite who had almost surrendered. She was “allegedly” abducted by the IPS officer and raped repeatedly. When she tried to file a case in the Bilaspur High Court with the help of an advocate and human rights activist, a case of abduction was instead “allegedly” filed against the advocate by Kalluri. Later, her family was “allegedly” abducted; she was threatened to change her lawyer. She was given a public prosecutor, and a day later, she told the Court that she wanted to take back the case against Kalluri. When the Court asked her for reasons, she broke down saying, “Don’t ask me anything.”


Today, Kalluri is IG of Anti-Naxals wing of the Chhattisgarh police of Dantewada range, while Ledha Bai is trying to bring justice to women in the capacity of a social worker, in Surguja.


Misleading emails


The sun had set, and all we could do was hope for a new day. But an interesting email was waiting for me in my inbox. It was from a gentleman by the name of Rajesh Singh Sisodia, from an NGO called Nange Paon Satyagrah. When I read his mail, for the first time, I realised that my articles were indeed being read widely. Wow! I exclaimed in happy disbelief. Sisodia was writing to me about Maoism, Naxalism, Salwa Judum, and has more or less congratulated Salwa Judum, while denouncing people like Himanshuji. Below are excerpts from the mail:


“Some NGO’s and other people have accused the police of making use of Salwa Judum as a counter-insurgency strategy by turning it in a state-funded militia. However, this allegation is definitely wrong and creates misperceptions, which need to be clarified. Vishwa Ranjan states: ‘Salwa Judum is a spontaneous movement and the police do not contribute financially or physically to Salwa Judum. The only thing the police do is respecting this movement as it respects all peaceful and democratic people movements’.

Mahendra Karma responds: ‘The people will have to fight against the tyranny of the Naxalites, because there is no other way left. Therefore we started the Salwa Judum and this movement is organized by and for the people and does not get any support of the police. It is the duty of the police to combat Naxalism. However, the police lack a fighting spirit and do not do enough to combat terrorism. Besides this, the police are bounded by stringent laws and therefore actions taken by them are very slow and have little impact.’


It is surprising that NGO’s such as Banwasi Shetna ashram are using false propaganda to create misperceptions among the people. Banwasi Shetna ashram state that Salwa Judum is related to Special Police Officers and the relief efforts of the government. As India is proud of being a democratic country it is of vital importance to maintain the debate among civilians, politicians and NGO’s alive. However, one should always be honest and speak the truth. Therefore, this article would take the opportunity to clarify that the police forces work independently from any organization such as the Salwa Judum.

This leads us to the conclusion that every stakeholder has a role to play in society, whether it be the Naxalites (a wrong role, but still a role), the police, the Salwa Judum, the media or the NGO’s. However, everyone should focus on their respective field of work and should do everything in their ability to contribute to the solution of the conflict between the Naxalites and the police. One should not degrade themselves to the spread of false allegations, childish lies and the creation of misconceptions among the common people…”


To all those skeptics, pessimists and cynics like Sisodia, who harbour many doubts about what Himanshuji says, and most importantly, what you are reading about in my mails: do not believe my words. Convince yourself first by what you see with your own eyes, what you hear with your own ears, and what you feel in your own heart. Book your ticket to Dantewada (mail me and I will give you directions, provided I know for sure that you are coming here) and spend few days here. You will be convinced about what you should believe. This is not about any ideology; this is only about what you see and feel when you come here. No RSVP. Just come.


Beauty and the beast: All conflict areas like Jammu & Kashmir and the North East, and now Chhattisgarh ring that Louis Armstrong song in the ears, "It's a wonderful world"


‘Am I protected?’


On Monday, December 28, Himanshuji entered the third day of his fast and was joined by Tanushree Gangopadhyay, a freelance journalist based alternatively between Bengaluru and Baroda. Himanshuji was beginning to look pale and exhausted, and his hands were moving slowly. He was reading a big fat book and I chose not to disturb him much. But he received phone calls all day long – well-wishers expressing solidarity and trying to gauge the situation with, “Is it safe for us of we get there?” Himanshuji replied to each of those calls with his idiosyncratic benevolence. But my reply would be, just come. If your heart tells you that you need to be here by his side then listen to none other.


Around 10 am, the seven police personnel who had been guarding Himanshuji came up to him to say that they had received an order to back out from his protection. It was indeed a good sign, and just like any other day, they were offered the breakfast-time tea. However, about half hour later, the chief who had left earlier, returned to state that there was a miscommunication and that the protection over Himanshuji’s shadow would continue. Himanshuji indeed is a much-loved man.


The day was quite uneventful, except that VCA’s volunteers – about 12 of them who had been working in various villages – gathered for a monthly meeting. I had the chance to interact with them, to understand how they individually got associated with VCA. Some of them had been working within the Salwa Judum camps, bringing about a sense of hygiene amid the dirty environs. They were of the opinion that the camps were indeed full of small tents where 15-member families had to squeeze in together. “The people are thankful to be alive, but they have been stripped of their dignity. In crammed tents, the situation is nothing short of living in a stable.”


The fourth estate


The volunteers asked me whether I came here after I had read news about atrocities in Dantewada in Mumbai. It was now my chance to flash that smile of surrender, as I explained how advertisements by companies that are the indirect perpetrators of the violence here, were sacred in the boardroom of media houses. So of course, it is easy to ignore the news stories of many rapes and murders and mutilations in a tiny village amid teak trees in Dantewada, in order to get those few extra lakhs of advertisements, which will fuel the New Year and Holi and anniversary parties of the media companies.


Now the volunteers smiled. They said, “There is such disparity in the news reports in the local media about what is happening here. No two reports of any incident are the same. How is the common man here, who goes to work on his scooter and gets back home in time for evening tea and biscuit, supposed to make a judgment?”


The sun set and questions as potent as these lingered on. But Vora of Swarajpeeth had to leave abruptly to address a crisis back home. Tomorrow is another day, that’s what we all harbour in our mind when we try to sleep comfortably inside two blankets. Sleep eludes us all. And we know the reason, but have been searching for the cure.

Sunday 27 December 2009

Crushed walls, unflinching spirit

When I visited the site where Vanvasi Chetna Ashram (VCA) earlier stood, amid a virgin forest, the dirt patch to the site was compensated by the scenic beauty on either sides of the road. As I walked past all that was lying scattered, I could sense what Himanshuji must have felt in his large heart when his work born out of intense love for life was razed down in a matter of few hours. Here are a few words which I hope would reflect what goes on in his mind when he sits under a large tree, smiling, sipping water, and explaining to people on the phone the meaning of satyagrah.

Vanvasi Chetna Ashram
Built over 17 years
Razed down in 3 hours

Nothing spared to a quivering breath of life
Even a telephone tower was forced to bend and break
So that no Idea could change your life

Scrap worth Rs 1 lakh was sold after VCA was demolished


Nothing has changed
Neither have the government’s problems
Nor has my motivation to solve tribals’ problem

Commodes
Hand pumps
Dispensary
All faced an insecure government’s fury


A whole section of the red Earth is now decorated with cylindrical commodes, broken after a community toilet was razed

While gram sabha welcomed me
An aggressive police force surrounded me
All I could do was let go
As I cannot be pinned to a wall
A rogue state’s boots cannot crush my morale

Once adorning my wall was Vinoba Bhave’s photograph
The police tore it too, as it aced hungrily to get me my epitaph

Rooms now resemble a grave; but only bricks have been crushed -- no human spirit

The sky is still bright blue
And the evening sun renders it many hues
The clouds scatter themselves in billows
Much like the cloud of debris below

Water
Mid-day meals
Education
Equal wages
NREGA
Sanitation
17 years I strived
Another 17 and more I will still strive
To return dignity to life

With this dispensary now in a rubble, villagers have to hire a cab, to get to the nearest hospital which is 14 kms away, and then get fleeced of their meagre money bag by the apathetic doctors


As I sip only water today
And like millions of deprived brothers here
I keep nutrition at bay

I cannot be silenced
My independence cannot fenced

"This child is hungry for food; I am hungry to get justice for him."


My fear, if any, is a product of my own assumptions
My assumptions are none other than the immortality of my motivation

Saturday 26 December 2009

Dantewada contines to cry - Day 2 from the War Zone

Dantewada resembles a terrific juggler to me; one who is able to toss several jugs up in the air, while making sure that none falls off his control. The juggler is always tensed; he has to give his best shot because everyone’s eyes are on him. He cannot afford to go wrong with any single jug; the one going up in the air next would ruin his game plan to keep his gaping audience enthralled and entertained and coming back to him again and again, and making him rich.

Some similes: If the government is Dantewada, then the jugs are the tribals, the Salwa Judum, the Naxalites, the rich minerals beneath the land and Himanshu Kumar. The government is eager to put up a great show, for its reward is the coveted seat during elections. One mistake in miscalculation of the ‘jug up in the air’, and the government will be hiding for cover. The government appeases the billion-dollar rich corporate who are ever so hungry. And we were taught that only malnutritioned kids could best explain hunger.

Himanshuji commenced on his indefinite fast from this morning. He wasn’t visible around the house till quite late into the morning, and good sense prevailed upon me to realize that be it fast or upwaas, he will always continue to feed people with his conversations peppered with laughter, over the phone. Some bedspreads were laid out under the canopy of a huge tree, and thus began Himanshuji’s day, with the charkha and the phone keeping his hands engaged. We too decided to observe the upwaas with him and although we had plans to visit a certain village, various possibilities that could come in our way prevented us from taking any trip. We surely couldn’t afford to get nabbed by the cops on flimsy charges, for "carrying IEDs to the Naxalites to distributing Red pamphlets… you can be put behind bars for any reason" were Himanshuji’s words of caution. So we stayed back observing the ‘Tribal Gandhi’ as he was surrounded by his well-wishers, who trickled in through the day.

The Tribal Gandhi

Sometime around 3 pm, a police jeep came in and cops in civil clothes approached Himanshuji. He spoke to them with utmost respect and concern – didn’t someone speak about love thy neighbor? After all, aren’t these lowly constables just a conduit of a larger system, but are still as much you and me? They handed him a fat envelope that contained several letters in Hindi – learnt later that after a writ petition had been filed in the Supreme Court (by Himanshuji on behalf of aggrieved tribals) about the attack on some villages, the cops had embarked on their investigation. However, as the letter from the Additional Superintendent of Police of Dantewada district mentioned, the police parties sent to investigate the matter could not meet a single villager and hence it was imperative that Himanshuji himself bring those complainants to the police station, and he himself too go along with them so that he could aid in the investigations.

Himanshuji lovingly smiled at the constable who gave him the letter and said, "When two people are fighting, how can a third person intervene to give testimony of one of the warring parties? Isn’t it the job of the cops to investigate?" He acknowledged the receipt of the letters, and what seemed to me the true mark of a someone who has enough love in his heart to satiate the entire hungry world, he bid the cops goodbye, saying, "Thank you for your time, and sorry for any inconvenience caused." The cops really had nothing to reply back, other than to hang their heads as they approached their jeep, which was driven away from our sight in a great rush, leaving a cloud of red soil rising to the air. About an hour later, the Thana In-charge (TI, who is equivalent to an Inspector at a police station in a large city) visited Himanshuji, stating that he was passing by the way and decided to drop by to say a hello. He then asked Himanshuji, "What exactly is satyagrah? I ask because, as far as I know, you have not been permitted by the Collector and the SP to conduct either a padyatra or satyagrah or jansunwai. So what you are doing right now – is this satyagrah?"

The TI did not know what trap he landed himself into. Himanshuji told him that satyagrah meant that there was satya (truth) in his actions, and he expected the other person to agrah (accept) that truth. Soon followed a detailed explanation of satyagrah, with myriad examples. The TI was utterly confused by then. He noticed that Satyen was scribbling something in his notebook and asked Himanshuji about him, who replied that Satyen was a journalist from Mumbai. Satyen later told me that the look of surprise was evident on the TI’s face, which conveyed, "What were my men doing that they could not stop a journalist from entering Dantewada?"

Himanshuji continued his explanation of satyagrah, while the TI got ensnarled further into it by Himashuji’s Gandhian father, who continued to add on to his son’s words. Finally, the harried TI decided that he had had enough and that it was time for him to take leave. Perhaps he needed to go home earlier and ponder about each of his actions, whether they merited to be termed ‘satyagrah’.

Before the sun could set for the day, we decided to go and take a look at the erstwhile site of the Vanvasi Chetna Ashram (VCA) where it stood before the cops demolished it in three hours, in May 2009. About 14 kms away from where Himanshuji currently resided, the dirt patch approach to the Ashram compensated for the scenic beauty on either sides of the road. I was prepared to see what my eyes soon fell upon – recent ruins comprising broken walls, grafitti on what used to be a dispensary, broken commodes and hand pumps, an erect telephone tower brought down to the ground…. As I walked past all that was lying scattered, I could sense what Himanshuji must have felt in his large heart when his work born out of intense love for life was razed down in a matter of few hours. Yet, it also becomes a symbol of his resilience. A Tehelka journalist once told him, "Even after your ashram was demolished; you did not turn to look back at it in despair. What can then break you?"

Once upon a time in Dantewada....

We met one villager there whose name I now fail to recollect, who stays behind the erstwhile Ashram. He said that although he was away when the Ashram was being demolished, he felt the pains now all the more when some villager would fall ill and would have to be taken to Dantewada town for treatment by an expensive hired cab, and then get treated by the doctors at exorbitant rates. There was nothing more to talk about. The sight around said it all. We were also told that the after the demolition, scarp worth Rs 1 lakh was sold, while not much could be salvaged as immediately after the demolition which took place on a Sunday, the rain Gods decided to play a game too the next day. So, much was lost.

A telephone tower now is a maze of aluminium

When we returned back home, Himanshuji said, "Nothing has changed. The government thought that razing down VCA would silence me, but I’m too stubborn. Nothing has changed – neither has the government’s problems, neither has my resolute stand."

I knew that although the sun had set, the sun would rise up again. And Himanshuji was the new sun who was spreading his rays of light to his butchered, tortured, abused brethren. Finally the crickets and a loud owl began to play their music, while in the backyard the tribals girls working with VCA began a song-and-dance routine. I could not stop myself from joining them, just as Himanshuji cannot stop smiling despite the adversities that befall him. The smile is to reassure that tomorrow, the sun will rise again.

Dantewada cries! - Day 1 in the War Zone


When a daughter of the nation has her dignity stripped by the country’s vigilante militia, which doors are left to be knocked upon, to get justice? The country currently is debating over a case of “justice delayed is equivalent to justice denied”, thanks to the numerous TV channels. But four women in Chhattisgarh have not only been stripped of their dignity, but have been ordered to keep mum in order to have their heads firmly on their shoulders.


Four girls, who were raped two years ago, were recently beaten up by the same SPOs (special police officers) who had raped them. The SPOs had forced the girls to put their thumb impressions on blank papers, and left the village wondering, “Why do these men wear the khaki and deride the respect associated with it?”


Himanshu Kumar of Vanvasi Chetna Ashram (VCA) had spread the word about this forcible signing of papers, through SMS, to the higher rungs in the democratic set-up of the country, as well as to those who would have a sensitive yet strong heart, enough to give them a restless sleep as they would ponder over the heinous atrocities.


It was later learnt that immediately after the day the SMS was sent, the girls were picked up again by the SPOs, were kept in captivity at Dornapal police thana for five days, and were let off yesterday – December 24. Satyen K. Bordoloi and I, who reached Dantewada this morning (December 25), went along with Himanshuji to meet the girls, bring them with us and give them the moral strength that they needed abundantly to fortify themselves for the long judicial battle ahead. We drove to their village Samsetti in Sukma block of the same district, which is about 100 kms south of Dantewada. I was personally sure that we would bring home the girls and understand what it was like to be abused and bruised over and over again, so that I could best transcribe their feelings into words, for others to read and feel their pain. Alas….!


Himanshuji couldn’t accompany us till the village since we had an entourage of seven constables following us (this has been the way Himanshuji has been traveling since December 14, when the state declared that his life was in danger and hence he deserved 24x7 protection). Himanshuji did not want his “protectors” to see the residences of these victims, and hence he got off the car about 2 kms before we could reach Samsetti, and said that he would relax under the shade of a large tree. He sometimes feigns about relaxing, because we know it too well that the ambience is far from that state of mind.


As we approached Samsetti, we were shocked to see young men in fatigues, carrying guns, walking past our car, and of course, looking back at us. They were definitely the SPOs of Salwa Judum – only SPOs wear uniforms; state police personnel do not. Easily, there were more than 100 of them. As the last one walked past us, we too reached a junction and alighted from the car. We knew that getting the girls wouldn’t be easy. Just at that moment, some young men from the village, who managed to camouflage their fear, told us that the SPOs had picked up five men from the nearby villages that morning – Madkam Kesa and Madkam Beeda from Paria village; Vanjam Sula, Vanjam Hunga and Vanjam Suka from Bagriguda village. They were sitting idle at home when the SPOs came to them and said that they needed to be spoken to. It was evident that they were taken away for no small talk, and other villagers who had been similarly called for a conversation by SPOs, were still languishing in the jail, since a year!


We continued our wait for the women, until we came across a young man. His wife was one of the women who were raped and we told him that we needed to take her to the Sessions Court so that she could talk herself about the heinous crimes that she as repeatedly subjected to. He was reluctant; he said that it was essential that the village as a commune should decide what the girls should do. Himanshuji requested him to get his wife, and so we set out to search for her, while all along he alleged that she was busy at the site where a pond was being dug as part of NREGA. We walked to that site, but were told that she had left for her home. We were sure that she was only being shielded; no person with NREGA work could actually be allowed to leave work midway. We walked to the village again to get the other girls, but we were told that the girls were away at work. By now we knew that the girls were only being shielded from us. The fact that Himanshuji was not with us also worked against us in trying to persuade the villagers to take the girls along with us.


We finally managed to reach the residence of one of the victims, Rupa (name changed). A religious festivity was underway in the compound and all the men and women and children were gathered. After much persuasion, Rupa came out from the mud and bamboo house and sat next to us. A volunteer with VCA tried to learn what had happened after her thumb impression was taken. Rupa began to speak slowly; the terror inflicted upon her several times had done that to the smiling girl. She said, “The cops came to our house at 4am and asked me to go with them. I told them that I needed to change my saree, but they rebuked me stating that I was acting pricey. I was forced to go with them; they took us to the Dornapal police thana where they beat all four of us girls. We were threatened that if we continued to fight the case, we would be beheaded. I was the only one who said that I did not care if they did so. But my little anger and show of strength did no good. They kept us there for five days and finally brought us back to the village only yesterday.” When the VCA volunteer asked her to come along with us, she refused, stating that it was the festivity that had kept her occupied. Clearly, the cops’ five-day “treatment” had proven to be successful – the girl was scared to do anything that could be done to fight for her own case.



Rupa knows not what to do; knows not where to scream; knows not whether she should fight at all



Much persuasion with the men around yielded no results. We told them that few of us would stay back till Rupa could go, along with another villager, to at least meet Himanshuji, so that he could have a chat with her. But no amount of cajoling helped. Rupa was also pressurised by the villagers as the SPOs had also threatened the entire village many a times before. Finally, we went back to Himanshuji and reported our failure to him. He decided that his words could perhaps be useful. We went back to Samsetti, and not surprisingly, Rupa was nowhere to be seen. By the time, a village senior had begun to beat the drums for the festivities to begin, but Himanshuji silenced them with his strong words in Gondi. What transcribed to me were strong motivational words, egging the villagers to stand up for themselves, lest more forces sent in would only end up in more rapes and beheading of the men. He had managed to get a few young boys to go and get the four women from wherever they were, but the village seniors, who seemed to have resigned to their fate and hence found Himanshuji’s half-hour talk too distant to their lives, decided to get back to their festivity. The women marched to the small mandap that was erected while the drums began to beat again.


Himanshuji did not stop with the louder reverberations of the drums. He continued to egg the young men to go and get the women from wherever they were hiding, but they were scared to do so. Evidently, they knew that their head would be the next to be sliced off, and hence they chose to remain indifferent.


Himanshuji gave them his contact number, and one vocal senior villager said that a meeting would be called for later in the evening along with the sarpanch (who is incidentally also a Salwa Judum member, so of course no positive help would be forthcoming) and only then would a decision be taken.


We returned to Dantewada late in the evening, dejected. As Himanshuji rightly said, “Everyone wants a Bhagat Singh, but only in their neighbour’s house.” The Central government wants to battle Naxalism in full form, and this they do so by raping young girls. Meanwhile, the country yet again celebrated the birth of the man who came to the world to salvage you and me and everyone, from our sins.


Thursday 17 December 2009

Blow the whistle, and be blown off!


Chhattisgarh is burning!
Mumbai buries itself in New Year's Eve planning!


The planned padyatra (peace march), satyagrah and jan sunwai (public hearing) in the Dantewada district of the Bastar region of Chhattisgarh was ready to take off, beginning from the paved roads of the town of Dantewada, leading into the dense forests of the state. Almost.

On December 10, Vanvasi Chetna Ashram's (VCA) tribal activist Kopa Kunjam and human rights lawyer Alban Toppo from Human Rights Law Network (HRLN) were illegally detained and badly beaten by the cops. Alban was released next day but Kopa was arrested on charges of being involved in the murder of Punam Honga who was abducted by Maoists on June 2, 2009, whose body was later found in a mutilated condition.

While I pen this, and until the time you read this, it is unlikely that Kopa would be free. His arrest is part of the same series of police crackdown, as was of Dr Binayak Sen in 2007, and many others who rose their voices in dissent.

The point is only one. If you disagree with the Chhattisgarh Government and try putting across another point of view then you will be removed from the scene. This is Chhattisgarh. And the Government of India? It will watch in silence.

Satyendranath Dubey was a National Highways Authority of India (NHAI) project manager, who was killed on November 27, 2003, in Gaya, when he had written to the Prime Minister’s Office complaining about corruption in the Golden Quadrilateral project.


If you dissent against the state
Death is your only fate


Kopa's arrest at such a crucial point of time explains the cowardly government's stance. The democratic set-up of the state knows it too well that the padyatra will expose the fact that today, there is hardly any family -- who were once residents of the villages of Dantewada but have now fled to the jungles to save their breath -- which does not have any of its love ones either raped, mutilated or murdered. The state has to hide such atrocities that its own security forces -- the state police, the CRPF and Combat Battalion for Resolute Action (COBRA) -- have afflicted on its own people.

Below is some information about the wonderful man whose wings have been clipped and voice has been silenced, the case in which he was implicated wrongly. If you manage to keep yourself glued to this post until its end, and yet don't feel your intestine churn with anger, then perhaps you have flushed your heart into the commode, just the way the government assumes that it can flush down its own people.

© Javed Iqbal


Kopa has spent more than 13 years of his life with the VCA. A brilliant singer and orator, he was with the Gayatri mission where he motivated people through his songs to stop drinking alcohol. His strong vocal chords got him a job in VCA where he not only continued to spread his anti-liquor message, but he also began to organise kala jathas (cultural mobilisation campaigns on peace, unity and self-reliance). Armed with a strong baritone and tireless feet to walk miles without any trace of fatigue, Kopa and other workers started mobilising people to demand entitlements related to their Right to Food and Health, and saving and reclaiming their natural Resources. So it wasn't surprising when he managed to gather more than 750 community workers on these issues and more than 40 main trainers, in Dantewada and Bijapur districts.

Kopa became uncomfortable for the administration and police since 2008. As per a Supreme Court order, he began to initiate the resettlement and rehabilitation work of all those villagers who had left their villages due to the atrocities of the Salwa Judum and SPOs. He also exposed the Matwara massacre of March 18, 2008, where three tribals were brutally killed and their bodies mutilated in a Salwa Judum camp. Kopa helped the families initiate legal proceedings in the High Court; he also got the widows of the three to file a complaint in the police station, which never got converted to a FIR.

Kopa also exposed the Singaram massacre of 2009, where four girls were raped and murdered. Fifteen men were also murdered in this episode. Kopa got the families of the victims to initiate legal proceedings in the High Court and also got them to file complaints in the local police station. In 2009, he took cudgels with the district administration regarding corruption in the implementation of the National Rural Employment Guarantee Act (NREGA), including non-payment of wages to tribals. He was constantly fighting for people's rights to get their share through the public distribution system (PDS) from ration shops, the only agency of the Government existing in the villages. No schools, no hospitals. Only the police and security forces exist as the face of the Government.


Villages bleed
The media misleads
Cities think tribals are rotten weed
The government doesn't pay any heed
Profits, power, position -- how many more Ps does the world need?
How many more wails before you put an end to this greed?

Wednesday 16 December 2009

Do we as human beings really need to give up on the human race?


"No, this money is not going to the Maoists who behead cops!"
(You think Maoists will befriend Maggi-loving urbanites like me so easily?)

"No, this money is not part of any spam scam!"
(You think I am unaware of scams? I am taking the money myself to Chhattisgarh)

"No, the tribals won't move out of their lands unless they are adequately compensated!"
(Would you abandon your settled life for a meagre Rs 1 lakh?)

"No, Operation Green Hunt is not a figment of imagination!"
(While the Home Minister denies the existence of any such activity, Chhattisgarh DIG admits to its existence.)

"No, the tribals do not blow up schools!"
(The tribals have not been even allowed to purchase their daily items from their local 'haats'; schools are a distant dream)

"No, your Christmas party will not be sabotaged if you give me 100 bucks!"
(Only children of a rich God celebrate Christmas; others have no God even for a false solace)

"No, I don't believe you cannot afford 100 bucks if you can read this on your computer!"
(Isn't it time to stop circulating forward mails on friendship and brotherhood, when ignorance is the policy conveniently adopted at times of real need?)

"No I'm not a Marxist, Communist, Maoist, Leninist, Stalinist, Trotskyist!"
(Do we really need to get into ideology when the country is witnessing old women and toddlers being butchered for no fault?)

"No, you cannot silence me if I want to speak of justice!"
(I have been born with a strong vocal chord; slit my throat if you think I cry to get back my own rights)

"No, tribals are not dirty filthy rats!"
(Where is the humanity that was taught in school, that all human beings are equal?)



Karamoja district, Uganda, April 1980: As the region having the driest climate in Uganda, a famine in 1980 killed 21 per cent of the country's population and 60 per cent of its infants. Famine, drought and ethnic violence continue to this day in Karamoja.



Do these lines convey any bit of anger? Well, these have been some my responses to people who have been reading my fundraiser mail for the satyagrah and jan sunwai in Chhattisgarh, and who are baffled to hear all that is going on in that rogue state.

Those who have declined to hear me out, or declined to read up alternative media to get a better understanding, or declined to help simply because fundraisers are an alternative money-minting machine, I ask you:


Do we as human beings really need to get into politics to "feel" the pain of another who is going through hell?

Do we as human beings really need to be satisfied with half-baked information fed to us by news channels?

Do we as human beings really need to wade through our lives half-asleep?

Do we as human beings really need to disregard another of our kind, simply because you and I are more educated?

Do we as human beings really need to shed tears only when terrorists get into a Taj Hotel and pump down bullets on the upper class?

Do we as human beings really need to waste Rs 10 on candles at Gateway of India?

Do we as human beings really need to be so lackadaisical about every aspect of our heart?

Do we as human beings really need to care only when our profits are at stake?

Do we as human beings really need to stop feeling altogether?

Do we as human beings really need to give up on the human race?


"Without justice, there is no scope for peace." - Vinoba Bhave



Think about it.
Give me a strong argument to convince me that I am wrong.
If your heart is calm with your own arguments, perhaps then I will be silenced.


Saturday 12 December 2009

So you are a woman, and you want to carry guns? Ha ha ha!



This article appeared in the Hindustan Times dated December 5, 2009.
You can get it online:

So you are a woman, and you want to carry guns? Ha ha ha!
So you want to be in the services? Ha ha ha!
So you want to get married too? Ha ha ha!

So you want to be a cop despite having two children? Ha ha ha!
So you are part of the country's elite forces, CRPF? Ha ha ha!

So you cleared the Senior Under Officer Cadre Course in 1998? Ha ha ha!
So you passed, but your peers got promoted unlike you? Ha ha ha!

So you have been posted to Srinagar, away from home in Uttaranchal? Ha ha ha!
So you head the constabulary in the CRPF in Srinagar? Ha ha ha!

So you want to do justice to the khaki? Ha ha ha!
So you think you can fight off terrorists? Ha ha ha!
So you confronted six terrorists at Srinagar airport eight years ago? Ha ha ha!

So you still went ahead and fought when you have a third child in your womb? Ha ha ha!
So you lost your child and you are still nursing your injuries, since eight years? Ha ha ha!

So you were denied promotion owing to your raw injuries and thus a raw body? Ha ha ha!
So a gallantry award recommended was turned down by the Defence Ministry? Ha ha ha!
So your lawyer and husband fought a lengthy case in the courts for you? Ha ha ha!

So you've got all the promotions due since 11 years? Ha ha ha!
So the CRPF will pay a compensation of Rs 11,000 to you? Ha ha ha!

But you battled the injuries --

to your upbringing,
to your womb,
to your khaki,
to your family,
to your pride,
to your duty --

And you succumbed, before you could see the wounds being healed by Goddess Justitia, Goddess Themis, Goddess Dike?

Ha ha ha!