Thank you Venu,
Great words. You people have made a comrade. In all sense.
KPJ

Date: Thu, 25 Mar 2010 15:54:34 +0530
Subject: [GreenYouth] Fwd: Walking with the Comrades. (Excerpted from   
Arundhati Roy's Article)
From: [email protected]







http://www.countercurrents.org/roy220310.htm
"..This legacy of rebellion has left behind a furious 
people who have been deliberately isolated and marginalised by the 
Indian government. The Indian Constitution, the moral underpinning of 
Indian democracy, was adopted by Parliament in 1950. It was a tragic day
 for tribal people. The Constitution ratified colonial policy and made 
the State custodian of tribal homelands. Overnight, it turned the entire
 tribal population into squatters on their own land. It denied them 
their traditional rights to forest produce, it criminalised a whole way 
of life. In exchange for the right to vote, it snatched away their right
 to livelihood and dignity.

                  Having dispossessed them and pushed them into a 
downward spiral of indigence, in a cruel sleight of hand, the government
 began to use their own penury against them. Each time it needed to 
displace a large population—for dams, irrigation projects, mines—it 
talked of “bringing tribals into the mainstream” or of giving them “the 
fruits of modern development”. Of the tens of millions of internally 
displaced people (more than 30 million by big dams alone), refugees of 
India’s ‘progress’, the great majority are tribal people. When the 
government begins to talk of tribal welfare, it’s time to worry..."

                  The most recent expression of concern has come 
from home minister P. Chidambaram who says he doesn’t want tribal people
 living in “museum cultures”. The well-being of tribal people didn’t 
seem to be such a priority during his career as a corporate lawyer, 
representing the interests of several major mining companies. So it 
might be an idea to enquire into the basis for his new anxiety.

"....An article on the internet says that Israel’s Mossad is training 30 
high-ranking Indian police officers in the techniques of targeted 
assassinations, to render the Maoist organisation “headless”. There’s 
talk in the press about the new hardware that has been bought from 
Israel: laser range-finders, thermal imaging equipment and unmanned 
drones, so popular with the US army. Perfect weapons to use against the 
poor.."

"..On the outskirts of Raipur, a massive billboard advertises Vedanta (the 
company our home minister once worked with) Cancer Hospital. In Orissa, 
where it is mining bauxite, Vedanta is financing a university. In these 
creeping, innocuous ways, mining corporations enter our imaginations: 
the Gentle Giants Who Really Care. It’s called CSR, Corporate Social 
Responsibility. It allows mining companies to be like the legendary 
actor and former chief minister NTR, who liked to play all the parts in 
Telugu mythologicals—the good guys and the bad guys, all at once, in the
 same movie. This CSR masks the outrageous economics that underpins the 
mining sector in India. For example, according to the recent Lokayukta 
report for Karnataka, for every tonne of iron ore mined by a private 
company, the government gets a royalty of Rs 27 and the mining company 
makes Rs 5,000. In the bauxite and aluminium sector, the figures are 
even worse. We’re talking about daylight robbery to the tune of billions
 of dollars. Enough to buy elections, governments, judges, newspapers, 
TV channels, NGOs and aid agencies. What’s the occasional cancer 
hospital here or there?.."

"..Why must they die? What for? To turn all of this into a mine? I remember
 my visit to the open cast iron-ore mines in Keonjhar, Orissa. There was
 forest there once. And children like these. Now the land is like a raw,
 red wound. Red dust fills your nostrils and lungs. The water is red, 
the air is red, the people are red, their lungs and hair are red. All 
day and all night trucks rumble through their villages, bumper to 
bumper, thousands and thousands of trucks, taking ore to Paradip port 
from where it will go to China. There it will turn into cars and smoke 
and sudden cities that spring up overnight. Into a ‘growth rate’ that 
leaves economists breathless. Into weapons to make war."

"...The perennial problem, the real bane of people’s lives, was the biggest
landlord of all, the Forest Department. Every morning, forest officials, even
the most junior of them, would appear in villages like a bad dream, preventing
people from ploughing their fields, collecting firewood, plucking leaves,
picking fruit, grazing their cattle, from living. They brought
elephants to overrun fields and scattered babool seeds to destroy the soil as
they passed by. People would be beaten, arrested, humiliated, their crops
destroyed. Of course, from the forest department’s point of view, these were
illegal people engaged in unconstitutional activity, and the department was
only implementing the Rule of Law. (Their sexual exploitation of women was just
an added perk in a hardship posting.)



Emboldened by the people’s participation in these struggles, the party decided
to confront the forest department. It encouraged people to take over forest
land and cultivate it. The forest department retaliated by burning new villages
that came up in forest areas. In 1986, it announced a National Park in Bijapur,
which meant the eviction of 60 villages. More than half of them had already
been moved out, and construction of national park infrastructure had begun when
the party moved in. It demolished the construction and stopped the eviction of
the remaining villages. It prevented the forest department from entering the
area. On a few occasions, officials were captured, tied to trees and beaten by
villagers. It was cathartic revenge for generations of exploitation.
Eventually, the forest department fled. Between 1986 and 2000, the party
redistributed 3,00,000 acres of forest land. Today, Comrade Venu says, there
are no landless peasants in Dandakaranya.



For today’s generation of young people, the forest department is a distant
memory, the stuff of stories mothers tell their children, about a mythological
past of bondage and humiliation. For the older generation, freedom from the
forest department meant genuine freedom. They could touch it, taste it. It
meant far more than India’s Independence ever did. They began to rally to the
party that had struggled with them.


The seven-squad team had come a long way. Its influence now ranged across a
60,000 sq km stretch of forest, thousands of villages and millions of people.



But the departure of the forest department heralded the arrival of the police.
That set off a cycle of bloodshed. Fake ‘encounters’ by the police, ambushes by
the PWG. With the redistribution of land came other responsibilities: 
irrigation,
agricultural productivity and the problem of an expanding population
arbitrarily clearing forest land. A decision was taken to separate ‘mass work’
and ‘military work’.



Today, Dandakaranya is administered by an elaborate structure of Janatana 
Sarkars
(people’s governments). The organising principles came from the Chinese
revolution and the Vietnam war. Each Janatana Sarkar is elected by a cluster of
villages whose combined population can range from 500 to 5,000. It has nine
departments: Krishi (agriculture), Vyapar-Udyog (trade and industry) Arthik
(economic), Nyay (justice), Raksha (defence), Hospital (health), Jan Sampark
(public relations), School-Riti Rivaj (education and culture), and Jungle. A
group of Janatana Sarkars come under an Area Committee. Three area committees
make up a Division. There are 10 divisions in Dandakaranya.



“We have a Save the Jungle department now,” Comrade Venu says. “You must have
read the government report that says forest has increased in Naxal areas?”
 A poem and a pressed flower from Comrade Narmada. A 
lovely letter from Maase. (Who is she? Will I ever know?)
                  Comrade Sukhdev asks if he can download the music 
from my Ipod onto his computer. We listen to a recording of Iqbal Bano 
singing Faiz Ahmad Faiz’s Hum Dekhenge (We will Witness the Day) at the 
famous concert in Lahore at the height of the repression during the 
Zia-ul-Haq years.

                  Jab ahl-e-safa-Mardud-e-haram,

                    Masnad pe bithaiye jayenge

                  (When the heretics and the reviled will be seated 
on high)

                  Sab taaj uchhale jayenge

                    Sab takht giraye jayenge

                  (All crowns will be snatched away

                    All thrones toppled)

                  Hum dekhenge

                  Fifty thousand people in the audience in that 
Pakistan begin a defiant chant: Inqilab Zindabad! Inqilab Zindabad! All 
these years later, that chant reverberates around this forest. Strange, 
the alliances that get made..."
"...The home minister’s been issuing veiled threats to 
those who “erroneously offer intellectual and material support to 
Maoists”. Does sharing music qualify?

          

                  At dawn, I say goodbye to Comrade Madhav and 
Joori, to young Mangtu and all the others. Comrade Chandu has gone to 
organise the bikes, and will come with me to the main road. Comrade Raju
 isn’t coming (the climb would be hell on his knees). Comrade Niti (Most
 Wanted), Comrade Sukhdev, Kamla and five others will take me up the 
hill. As we start walking, Niti and Sukhdev casually but simultaneously 
unclick the safety catches of their AKs. It’s the first time I’ve seen 
them do that. We’re approaching the ‘Border’. “Do you know what to do if
 we come under fire?” Sukhdev asks casually, as though it was the most 
natural thing in the world.

                  “Yes,” I said, “immediately declare an indefinite 
hunger strike.”

                  He sat down on a rock and laughed. We climbed for 
about an hour. Just below the road, we sat in a rocky alcove, completely
 concealed, like an ambush party, listening for the sound of the bikes. 
When it comes, the farewell must be quick. Lal Salaam Comrades.

                  When I looked back, they were still there. Waving.
 A little knot. People who live with their dreams, while the rest of the
 world lives with its nightmares. Every night I think of this journey. 
That night sky, those forest paths. I see Comrade Kamla’s heels in her 
scuffed chappals, lit by the light of my torch. I know she must be on 
the move. Marching, not just for herself, but to keep hope alive for us 
all. 

                   
You cannot build anything on the foundations of caste. You cannot build up a 
nation, you cannot build up a morality. Anything that you will build on the 
foundations of caste will crack and will never be a whole.



-AMBEDKAR



http://venukm.blogspot.com

http://www.shelfari.com/kmvenuannur



http://kmvenuannur.livejournal.com





-- 


You cannot build anything on the foundations of caste. You cannot build up a 
nation, you cannot build up a morality. Anything that you will build on the 
foundations of caste will crack and will never be a whole.

-AMBEDKAR



http://venukm.blogspot.com

http://www.shelfari.com/kmvenuannur

http://kmvenuannur.livejournal.com







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