Raju Korti
As someone who is pathologically averse to violence of any kind and for any reason, I have had the mortification of covering the Naxalite movement when it was at its peak in the eighties. The media which is conventionally urban-centric, keeps floating occasional and half-baked stories about this movement without getting its proper import. So it was quite a cultural shock for me when I trekked the bumpy terrain of the Naxal-infested pockets straddling Maharashtra and Andhra Pradesh border to paint a terribly dismal picture of the failure of the successive governments to stop this cult of violence in the name of ideology even as the main constituency of this extreme Left-leaning elements continued to languish in utter neglect.
Inaccessible topography, men having nothing to do except burn their lungs with beedis made out of tendu leaves, women moving around naked with not even a fig leaf for cover, deprived of even the most basic amenities and exploited for decades at the hands of unscrupulous landlords and self-seeking politicians was just the script that would have excited any journalist. It excited me alright but it also exposed me to the excruciating pain of having to watch this show of squalor and poverty.
In their dispossession, the tribals had found saviours in Naxals who periodically brainwashed them into believing that the root cause of their meaningless existence was the State which had to be overthrown if their lot was to improve. The gullible tribals reciprocated by offering the Naxals a hiding place since the movement was outlawed. The only semblance of human face of the movement showed up in the Human Rights and Civil Liberties activists always ready to fight the criminal cases against them. On its part, the government either turned blind eye or had little clue how to tackle this ticklish issue and kept drifting.That was sometime in 1984. I was informed by a source that the Naxals were planning a hush hush convention at Kamlapur -- an apology of a village -- nestling a little across the Maharashtra border. Drafted to do a story for The Hindu by my News Editor, it was with great trepidation that I decided to venture in the area. I had an unarmed Police Patil (a lower-rung cop) for company who looked more scared than I did at the prospect of visiting areas from where chances of returning alive were at best faint.
It was more by fluke than judgement that we managed to zero in on the place without being struck by a bullet. But my breath which I had been holding out of fear, came out like the hiss of a punctured tyre when we learnt that the Naxals who had come for the meet fled when they found the police had caught their scent. Not a single Naxal could be arrested. It was a convention that got aborted before it could take off. I still tried to attempt a meet with Dr Kondapalli Seetharamiah, a brilliant economist and the head of the Naxal outfit People's War Group (PWG). I heard stories that he was so influential and powerful in his oratory that he could convert anyone into a Naxal within a few minutes of meeting him. My luck ran out here too as the man was sick and didn't address any of his weekly indoctrination. However, I did manage to get pretty close. I gleaned out elements in the Naxals who were a little media-savvy. They looked at me suspiciously thinking I was a police informer and frisked me several times over while one man poked his gun at my chest. I must have died several times in those few minutes. Finally, convinced that I was a media person after seeing my identity card, they promised to take me to Seetharamiah. As it happened the man was hospitalised with no one in the government even aware of it. And by the time someone in the government did, Kondapalli escaped by jumping from the first floor of the hospital. It was billed as a sensational escape and the funniest part was not even the hospital authorities had any clue that the man they were treating was a dreaded Naxal leader who swore by the Maoist philosophy of power firing from the bullets of the gun. A couple of years later, I did manage to catch a sneak preview of the man when the PWG was in the news again for killing eight policemen in Bhamragarh of Chandrapur district. Since the police were hot on his trail, he refused to meet strangers including media personnel which otherwise he wasn't averse to meet. He shifted places in the areas which were beyond the vision of the police and did a better job at it than what Bin Laden could do in Afghanistan. I saw him in military undies with a gun in his right hipster speaking to a bunch (called dalam) of rookie Naxalites who looked at him as if he was a demigod. From whatever I heard I realised that if only there were more men like him in the mainstream, they would have worked wonders with the country's governance.
Thereafter I did several stories on Naxalism and its socio-economic impact in the tribal land but in the course of this journey, it was amply clear: The governments over the decades have neither been able to rein in the Naxals nor wean away the tribals from their clutches. Although to an extent it was rightly interpreted as a socio-economic issue, the government couldn't do much beyond some cosmetic steps. The tribals, provided with food and some rag tag help, remained suspicious of the government's intentions. The mask fell with the advent of nineties when this so called ideological movement started degenerating into plain brigandry and thuggery. The Naxals show of sympathy towards the poor tribals is now a total sham. They want poor to remain poor and landless so they can run their shop and keep targeting the establishment with the violence they have institutionalised since the movement's inception. The truth is the day the tribals come into the mainstream, they will become redundant and will be left with no agenda to pursue their policy of firing bullets at those in power. Having seen the movement from close quarters and interacting with some of them of their front organisations -- one of them a reputed media guy himself -- I know where exactly the shoe bites. And despite being a media man myself, I came to know that my fellow journalist from Sunday Observer Kobad Ghandy, a tall handsome and articulate man, was a Naxalite after he was arrested. His pretty wife (late) Anuradha, a regular contributor to newspapers, was also one and I had no clue that she could harbour such ruthless ideology; sweet and docile as she was in her demeanour and disposition.
The brutal killing of 24 CRPF men by the Naxals in Chhattisgarh district proves that the the veneer behind which the movement is being run, has slipped while the government has always found itself on a slippery ground.
The government could have done with a sense of purpose and a resolve to settle the issue. It didn't. The Naxals could have used better methods than to just lift the gun. They didn't. The End.
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| Foot soldiers die and the government salutes |
Inaccessible topography, men having nothing to do except burn their lungs with beedis made out of tendu leaves, women moving around naked with not even a fig leaf for cover, deprived of even the most basic amenities and exploited for decades at the hands of unscrupulous landlords and self-seeking politicians was just the script that would have excited any journalist. It excited me alright but it also exposed me to the excruciating pain of having to watch this show of squalor and poverty.
In their dispossession, the tribals had found saviours in Naxals who periodically brainwashed them into believing that the root cause of their meaningless existence was the State which had to be overthrown if their lot was to improve. The gullible tribals reciprocated by offering the Naxals a hiding place since the movement was outlawed. The only semblance of human face of the movement showed up in the Human Rights and Civil Liberties activists always ready to fight the criminal cases against them. On its part, the government either turned blind eye or had little clue how to tackle this ticklish issue and kept drifting.That was sometime in 1984. I was informed by a source that the Naxals were planning a hush hush convention at Kamlapur -- an apology of a village -- nestling a little across the Maharashtra border. Drafted to do a story for The Hindu by my News Editor, it was with great trepidation that I decided to venture in the area. I had an unarmed Police Patil (a lower-rung cop) for company who looked more scared than I did at the prospect of visiting areas from where chances of returning alive were at best faint.
It was more by fluke than judgement that we managed to zero in on the place without being struck by a bullet. But my breath which I had been holding out of fear, came out like the hiss of a punctured tyre when we learnt that the Naxals who had come for the meet fled when they found the police had caught their scent. Not a single Naxal could be arrested. It was a convention that got aborted before it could take off. I still tried to attempt a meet with Dr Kondapalli Seetharamiah, a brilliant economist and the head of the Naxal outfit People's War Group (PWG). I heard stories that he was so influential and powerful in his oratory that he could convert anyone into a Naxal within a few minutes of meeting him. My luck ran out here too as the man was sick and didn't address any of his weekly indoctrination. However, I did manage to get pretty close. I gleaned out elements in the Naxals who were a little media-savvy. They looked at me suspiciously thinking I was a police informer and frisked me several times over while one man poked his gun at my chest. I must have died several times in those few minutes. Finally, convinced that I was a media person after seeing my identity card, they promised to take me to Seetharamiah. As it happened the man was hospitalised with no one in the government even aware of it. And by the time someone in the government did, Kondapalli escaped by jumping from the first floor of the hospital. It was billed as a sensational escape and the funniest part was not even the hospital authorities had any clue that the man they were treating was a dreaded Naxal leader who swore by the Maoist philosophy of power firing from the bullets of the gun. A couple of years later, I did manage to catch a sneak preview of the man when the PWG was in the news again for killing eight policemen in Bhamragarh of Chandrapur district. Since the police were hot on his trail, he refused to meet strangers including media personnel which otherwise he wasn't averse to meet. He shifted places in the areas which were beyond the vision of the police and did a better job at it than what Bin Laden could do in Afghanistan. I saw him in military undies with a gun in his right hipster speaking to a bunch (called dalam) of rookie Naxalites who looked at him as if he was a demigod. From whatever I heard I realised that if only there were more men like him in the mainstream, they would have worked wonders with the country's governance.
Thereafter I did several stories on Naxalism and its socio-economic impact in the tribal land but in the course of this journey, it was amply clear: The governments over the decades have neither been able to rein in the Naxals nor wean away the tribals from their clutches. Although to an extent it was rightly interpreted as a socio-economic issue, the government couldn't do much beyond some cosmetic steps. The tribals, provided with food and some rag tag help, remained suspicious of the government's intentions. The mask fell with the advent of nineties when this so called ideological movement started degenerating into plain brigandry and thuggery. The Naxals show of sympathy towards the poor tribals is now a total sham. They want poor to remain poor and landless so they can run their shop and keep targeting the establishment with the violence they have institutionalised since the movement's inception. The truth is the day the tribals come into the mainstream, they will become redundant and will be left with no agenda to pursue their policy of firing bullets at those in power. Having seen the movement from close quarters and interacting with some of them of their front organisations -- one of them a reputed media guy himself -- I know where exactly the shoe bites. And despite being a media man myself, I came to know that my fellow journalist from Sunday Observer Kobad Ghandy, a tall handsome and articulate man, was a Naxalite after he was arrested. His pretty wife (late) Anuradha, a regular contributor to newspapers, was also one and I had no clue that she could harbour such ruthless ideology; sweet and docile as she was in her demeanour and disposition.
The brutal killing of 24 CRPF men by the Naxals in Chhattisgarh district proves that the the veneer behind which the movement is being run, has slipped while the government has always found itself on a slippery ground.
The government could have done with a sense of purpose and a resolve to settle the issue. It didn't. The Naxals could have used better methods than to just lift the gun. They didn't. The End.
