*"A few hours into Raipur, I was told that we were being 'watched'" *
*Anupama Ramakrishnan** Is 29; she is a publishing professional in New Delhi* [image: Personal History] *Illustration: *UZMA MOHSIN A FEW HOURS INTO reaching Raipur in 2005, I was told that we were being 'watched'. I was part of a team going to investigate human rights abuses by the Salwa Judum campaign in Dantewada, Chhattisgarh. The 'watching' was a certainly a first for me, used to my urban anonymity, but my more experienced team mates seemed good at ignoring it. I realised, with mounting nervousness, as I read about the violence unleashed by the Salwa Judum, that the surveillance only set the tone for the rest of my journey into the heart of a conflict. Heading towards Dantewada, I saw that metal roads were only being built now, because of the increased movement of army and police vehicles; and that the only rail line was one that carried iron ore, not people, to Visakhapatnam port. This predominantly tribal region, at the edge of our national consciousness, represents the poverty and gaping distance that separates rich and poor. In Dantewada, the watch on us intensified. This continuous surveillance also made it impossible for us to meet any members of the banned CPI (Maoist). As a result, all I saw was the sophistication and strength of the state's counter-insurgency apparatus, which stood in stark contrast to the living conditions of the people. Nothing had prepared me for this place: police stations and camps of soldiers of the India Reserve Battalion built like fortresses; guns and weapons proudly displayed; 'camps' — shanties huddled together — of people who had left their villages, located next to police stations. In these 'camps', people spoke of food being in short supply and of having no money. Men and boys were being trained as 'Special Police Officers' for paltry salaries. Some spoke about the threat from the Maoists, others of them being helpful and of Salwa Judum having driven them out of their homes. This was clearly a divided society. We managed to shake off our police 'escort' once we turned off the highway. Villages here were eerily empty. As we travelled from village to village, we found one that had only women. None would look at us, until I managed to speak to one. She spoke in Gondi, I in Hindi; we understood each other perfectly. All the men had been taken to the police station. By the end of the day, it was clear that the Salwa Judum was not a 'spontaneous people's movement' against the Maoists, but one actively supported by the police and soldiers stationed there. We also heard that people were indiscriminately and routinely picked up by the police. Back in Raipur, I met an alleged Maoist: a teenaged girl with deep wounds lying on a hospital bed, crying. I just couldn't understand why the state would cause such distress to thousands. It was the hostile journalists in Raipur who cleared any remaining doubts I had. For them, industry (read iron ore extraction) was development, which meant money for Chhattisgarh, which, presumably, meant money for them. The people of Dantewada meant little, and the anti-development Maoists were to be decimated. No matter if many Maoists were people of this region. Their hostility towards Binayak Sen, a member of our team, took more heinous forms. We were the first fact-finding team to go there; many teams followed and much has been written and said about the Salwa Judum and its unpunished excesses. The national media regularly refreshes the public's imagination about the Maoists, who in turn, continue to attack and kill representatives of the Indian state. Binayak Sen, one of the most compassionate persons I have known, languishes in jail despite a global campaign for his release. And I try to make sense of the situation. As I sit here in the safety of my home, secure in the knowledge that I will be paid a salary equal to my skills, I cannot help comparing myself to the dispossessed of Dantewada. And it is from here that I must see the world. I ask myself, how many more people need to face policemen and soldiers and guns and ammunition to retain their homes and livelihoods? *From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 5, Issue 47, Dated Nov 29, 2008* --~--~---------~--~----~------------~-------~--~----~ You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Green Youth Movement" group. To post to this group, send email to [email protected] To unsubscribe from this group, send email to [EMAIL PROTECTED] For more options, visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/greenyouth?hl=en-GB -~----------~----~----~----~------~----~------~--~---
