(I)
When we set out from Kolkata for Lalgarh on June 15, little did we expect to witness life-changing moments. As we approached Lalgarh from Midnapore, via Pirakata, we heard that the supporters of the People’s Committee Against Police Atrocities (PCPA) were marching towards Dharampur and where likely to attack the CPI (M) party office.
Given the fact that a lengthy gun battle had ensued between the CPI (M) and the PCPA cadres in Dharampur it wasn’t unexpected that the Dharampur party office would be attacked. Nine CPI (M) cadres had gone missing, while three bodies had been recovered. However, what we witnessed in Dharampur was definitely much more than mere destruction of property.
On our way from L
algarh police station, a few kilometers away from Dharampur a group of villagers, mostly women, stopped us at a makeshift PCPA check post. We were told that journalists weren’t allowed to enter the area. Our repeated requests fell on deaf ears. We saw a number of tribals marching towards Dharampur with sticks and axes. We could smell a story. Finally, the PCPA women let us talk to their leader on the phone and we were allowed to move. But only after our cars were checked thoroughly to make sure we were not armed. It was a scene of extreme contradiction: a half-clad tribal woman with a blackberry pressed to her ears immersed in conversation with her leader.
When we reached Dharampur we were shocked to see thousands of tribals gathering in the village and more were joining them. The next thing we knew was that they were razing down the CPI (M) party office — a spacious building.
Soon we were told that another house nearby was being demolished. We headed in that direction and in front of us stood a palatial building in the middle of clusters of huts. The house belonged CPIM zonal committee secretary Anuj Pandey and was being broken down piece by piece. First, the hammers broke down the pillars and then went the roof. All around us was a mood of celebration. A crowd had gathered with drums and cheered as each part was being broken down. The beat of the drum was accompanied by a peculiar sound made by the tribals. The sound made the whole place seem eerie. The scene before our eyes was similar to that of Satayajit Ray’s novel Hirak Rajar Deshe, where the statue of King Hirak was brought down.
More horror followed. Suddenly, I saw that my cameraperson had been encircled by a group of villagers. As I got closer, I saw that he was pleading before a young man. My mind went numb as I noticed an AK 47 slung on his shoulder. He was questioning my cameraman. That was our first meeting with a Maoist action squad member and a meeting to be remembered.
The mistake my cameraperson had made was taking the Maoist leader’s visual carrying the AK47. He was leading the demolition process, but we weren’t aware that taking the squad members’ photographs was prohibited. To be honest, we never expected to meet a Maoist there so easily. My cameraperson could not hold his ‘photographer’s instinct’ and tried to capture the million dollar visual, without knowing its consequence. He was dragged through the crowd and I followed them. We kept pleading and tried to convince them that it was a mistake. We had gone there to cover the story and were under their protection. And that we were also ready to erase the visual. But all out efforts went in vain and we were isolated. I frantically tried to call my other senior colleagues accompanying us. I could not dare to look down at my cell and lose sight of my cameraperson. We were virtually kidnapped. We were taken to the action squad leader and there we saw about 15 to 20 people carrying AK-47 or AK-56. We realized we were among the MAOISTS.
The group leader listened to us with his red eyes glaring at us. He then asked us to erase the visuals immediately in front of him. We didn’t waste a single minute. My cameraperson erased the visuals and showed it to them at least four times. By then our senior colleagues were there and we were let off. We were asked to stay in a restricted zone and capture the demolition process from distance. We abided by the diktat. After all, our fate lay in their hands.
It is hard to forget the glowing faces of the tribals as they went about their kaj (work) of venting their anger and frustration by ransacking the building, a symbol of CPIM arrogance, as they put it. By then we had proof in front of our eyes that PCPA was nothing but the frontal organization of the Communist Party of India (Maoist). Maoists were calling the shots in Lalgarh. But we couldn’t utter the word “Maoist” while doing our piece to camera near the demolition site. I asked a villager, “Would you do the same to the panchayat office located nearby?” His reply was that the panchayat was a public property and we needed to protect it. “Anuj Pandey built his house with our money and we are bringing it down,” was his closing sentence.
This was clearly a tribal talking the Maoists’ language. Clearly, they had been tutored. Good or bad, the Maoists disciplined the crowd in this manner. The brief was only to attack the symbols of the establishment. Next on their agenda was setting the local CPIM party office on fire. In a similar fashion, the party office was first ransacked and then set on fire.
But what beat all our precious experiences was the horrific sight of a decomposing body. The body of Shalku Soren, a CPIM cadre, lay beside the CPIM office unclaimed for days. No one had dared to go near it and Maoists’ purpose was to show that a similar fate awaited all the CPIM workers.
It was in this setting that we met a man who could easily pass of as a local mechanic. A rather average man was instructing the crowd, but the AK47 peeping from behind his shoulders made him stand out. It was hard to believe that this very ordinary bespectacled man in a faded grey shirt, trouser folded up to his knees, sporting a metal watch would be the Maoist commander in charge, Comrade Bikash, who is also the spokesperson of the Purulia, Bankura, and West Midnapore Zonal Committee. For obvious reasons, we had earlier not seen him. We had only seen his name printed in numerous press releases sent to the media by the Maoists.
He told us that he had something to say. When we all gathered under a mango tree, we had to negotiate with him. He wasn’t ready to come on camera. We told him that the cameras would be behind him and that no one would be able to see his face. Finally, he agreed.
Someone had earlier asked me if the Maoist cadres were illiterate and just followed their emotions. My answer then had been that they were brainwashed with Marxists and Maoist literature. Here I saw that Bikash was a live example. When I asked him to give his designation, he faltered.
Later we found out that he couldn’t understand the rather
commonly used word ‘designation’. He confessed that he was an illiterate and didn’t understand English. But on hearing his explanations of the Maoists’ goals in Jangalkhand, in context of the theory of Maoism, dialectical materialism and new democratic people’s revolution, we were taken aback. Bikash declared that the Maoists have been on the frontline of the PCPA movement and their aim was to capture more and more areas to make it a free zone. They were behind the attack on the Chief Minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee’s convoy last November.
A cameraperson, who had recorded Bikash’s interview from an angle that profile was clear, was made to erase it at the point of the gun. And then everyone had to show the angle in his interview had been recorded or photographed. We don’t know if he was the real Bikash or some one just pretending to be him. We just had to go by his claim.
A senior journalist, rather foolishly, asked him for his mobile number and yours truly wondered if the Maoist had one; Bikash looked at me and said: ‘The day we will set up our mobile tower here (pointing at the burning CPIM party office), I will share my number with you’.
Given the fact that a lengthy gun battle had ensued between the CPI (M) and the PCPA cadres in Dharampur it wasn’t unexpected that the Dharampur party office would be attacked. Nine CPI (M) cadres had gone missing, while three bodies had been recovered. However, what we witnessed in Dharampur was definitely much more than mere destruction of property.
On our way from L
algarh police station, a few kilometers away from Dharampur a group of villagers, mostly women, stopped us at a makeshift PCPA check post. We were told that journalists weren’t allowed to enter the area. Our repeated requests fell on deaf ears. We saw a number of tribals marching towards Dharampur with sticks and axes. We could smell a story. Finally, the PCPA women let us talk to their leader on the phone and we were allowed to move. But only after our cars were checked thoroughly to make sure we were not armed. It was a scene of extreme contradiction: a half-clad tribal woman with a blackberry pressed to her ears immersed in conversation with her leader.When we reached Dharampur we were shocked to see thousands of tribals gathering in the village and more were joining them. The next thing we knew was that they were razing down the CPI (M) party office — a spacious building.
Soon we were told that another house nearby was being demolished. We headed in that direction and in front of us stood a palatial building in the middle of clusters of huts. The house belonged CPIM zonal committee secretary Anuj Pandey and was being broken down piece by piece. First, the hammers broke down the pillars and then went the roof. All around us was a mood of celebration. A crowd had gathered with drums and cheered as each part was being broken down. The beat of the drum was accompanied by a peculiar sound made by the tribals. The sound made the whole place seem eerie. The scene before our eyes was similar to that of Satayajit Ray’s novel Hirak Rajar Deshe, where the statue of King Hirak was brought down.
More horror followed. Suddenly, I saw that my cameraperson had been encircled by a group of villagers. As I got closer, I saw that he was pleading before a young man. My mind went numb as I noticed an AK 47 slung on his shoulder. He was questioning my cameraman. That was our first meeting with a Maoist action squad member and a meeting to be remembered.
The mistake my cameraperson had made was taking the Maoist leader’s visual carrying the AK47. He was leading the demolition process, but we weren’t aware that taking the squad members’ photographs was prohibited. To be honest, we never expected to meet a Maoist there so easily. My cameraperson could not hold his ‘photographer’s instinct’ and tried to capture the million dollar visual, without knowing its consequence. He was dragged through the crowd and I followed them. We kept pleading and tried to convince them that it was a mistake. We had gone there to cover the story and were under their protection. And that we were also ready to erase the visual. But all out efforts went in vain and we were isolated. I frantically tried to call my other senior colleagues accompanying us. I could not dare to look down at my cell and lose sight of my cameraperson. We were virtually kidnapped. We were taken to the action squad leader and there we saw about 15 to 20 people carrying AK-47 or AK-56. We realized we were among the MAOISTS.
The group leader listened to us with his red eyes glaring at us. He then asked us to erase the visuals immediately in front of him. We didn’t waste a single minute. My cameraperson erased the visuals and showed it to them at least four times. By then our senior colleagues were there and we were let off. We were asked to stay in a restricted zone and capture the demolition process from distance. We abided by the diktat. After all, our fate lay in their hands.
It is hard to forget the glowing faces of the tribals as they went about their kaj (work) of venting their anger and frustration by ransacking the building, a symbol of CPIM arrogance, as they put it. By then we had proof in front of our eyes that PCPA was nothing but the frontal organization of the Communist Party of India (Maoist). Maoists were calling the shots in Lalgarh. But we couldn’t utter the word “Maoist” while doing our piece to camera near the demolition site. I asked a villager, “Would you do the same to the panchayat office located nearby?” His reply was that the panchayat was a public property and we needed to protect it. “Anuj Pandey built his house with our money and we are bringing it down,” was his closing sentence.
This was clearly a tribal talking the Maoists’ language. Clearly, they had been tutored. Good or bad, the Maoists disciplined the crowd in this manner. The brief was only to attack the symbols of the establishment. Next on their agenda was setting the local CPIM party office on fire. In a similar fashion, the party office was first ransacked and then set on fire.
But what beat all our precious experiences was the horrific sight of a decomposing body. The body of Shalku Soren, a CPIM cadre, lay beside the CPIM office unclaimed for days. No one had dared to go near it and Maoists’ purpose was to show that a similar fate awaited all the CPIM workers.
It was in this setting that we met a man who could easily pass of as a local mechanic. A rather average man was instructing the crowd, but the AK47 peeping from behind his shoulders made him stand out. It was hard to believe that this very ordinary bespectacled man in a faded grey shirt, trouser folded up to his knees, sporting a metal watch would be the Maoist commander in charge, Comrade Bikash, who is also the spokesperson of the Purulia, Bankura, and West Midnapore Zonal Committee. For obvious reasons, we had earlier not seen him. We had only seen his name printed in numerous press releases sent to the media by the Maoists.
He told us that he had something to say. When we all gathered under a mango tree, we had to negotiate with him. He wasn’t ready to come on camera. We told him that the cameras would be behind him and that no one would be able to see his face. Finally, he agreed.
Someone had earlier asked me if the Maoist cadres were illiterate and just followed their emotions. My answer then had been that they were brainwashed with Marxists and Maoist literature. Here I saw that Bikash was a live example. When I asked him to give his designation, he faltered.
Later we found out that he couldn’t understand the rather
commonly used word ‘designation’. He confessed that he was an illiterate and didn’t understand English. But on hearing his explanations of the Maoists’ goals in Jangalkhand, in context of the theory of Maoism, dialectical materialism and new democratic people’s revolution, we were taken aback. Bikash declared that the Maoists have been on the frontline of the PCPA movement and their aim was to capture more and more areas to make it a free zone. They were behind the attack on the Chief Minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee’s convoy last November.A cameraperson, who had recorded Bikash’s interview from an angle that profile was clear, was made to erase it at the point of the gun. And then everyone had to show the angle in his interview had been recorded or photographed. We don’t know if he was the real Bikash or some one just pretending to be him. We just had to go by his claim.
A senior journalist, rather foolishly, asked him for his mobile number and yours truly wondered if the Maoist had one; Bikash looked at me and said: ‘The day we will set up our mobile tower here (pointing at the burning CPIM party office), I will share my number with you’.
