Bastar = violence?

What comes to mind when you hear of Bastar?

I know you cannot post a reply to this question but again, I write this as a rhetorical question.

Bastar inevitably reminds you of the violence between the naxals and the police. It reminds you of the 'government's war on its own people' as some intellectuals might put it. It reminds you of the various interviews

given by Home Minister, P Chidambaram vowing to remove naxalism. It reminds you of the cease fire called by naxals. It reminds you of the hundreds of CRPF men who were killed in neighboring district, Dantewada. It reminds you of the scape goats made of villagers by both the CRPF and the naxals. Well, it reminds you of a lot of things and for no strange reason, they are all related to either the government or the naxal movement and related killings.

As a result, when I was told that I needed to visit Bastar to do a pilot of one of our programs, I was excited. This is the kind of excitement you get when you do a bunjee or when skydiving. In all these cases, you know the dangers attached to what you are doing and that is what gives you the rush of adrenaline. And, I must also add, that is what makes you want to do it again....

After a 20 hour train journey we reached Raipur, the capital of Chhattisgarh, where we had a briefing from the State head of our program. He successfully managed to convert hints of my excitement to fear, so much so that I dreamt of being shot at by a naxal that night. It definitely wasn't the best of feelings especially knowing that you had pretty much reached the point of no return. The fear was that this rhetoric point of no return could turn into reality any moment. But with a brave face and a few adieus to family and friends, we set forth.

Very soon we were making our way through the jungles on NH 30 and later on NH 43. The roads, though quite narrow, were in good condition and various cars and trucks were speeding their way on it. We reached our destination around 4:30pm that day and after a brief discussion with our team, we set forth to one of our villages. We reached this place just before dawn and spend some time talking with community members. In a span of about half an hour all we could see was the dim headlight of our car and the multitude of stars in the sky. We made our way to the class where I was taken by surprise at the dedication with which the volunteer was teaching kids around an inch long flame that was emanating a yellow light, that was just sufficient to help differentiate one word from another. We visited another class after this where the conditions were the same. We wa

nted to stay longer and bask in the light heat that the light produced, as it had started becoming chill, but we could not for fear of investigations from people on our way back out of the village.

The next day our local team took us to a village that came in the B category of a 3 point scaling system for severity of naxal activity (the previous village was C). The village was deep in the jungle and we had to make our way through 3 kilometers of somewhat densely covered forests and watchful eyes - some of which were visible to us and some others that we couldn't see but whose presence revered was the least fatal choice. Again, we reached this village just before dawn and managed to meet some villagers and click their pictures. Interacting with villagers here was slightly difficult, initially, because for them we were 'outsiders' and any suspicion would result in sharp stones making their mark on your bodies. But the situation eased out once we started interacting with villagers in the presence of the volunteer who taught children. My mindset was very much changed by the enthusiasm of the children there - once they felt safe, they were freely posing in front of my camera. Their poses, though, were very interesting because it only meant that they would stand at attention like a regiment of the army or the police or a guerilla group. It was too early and very futile to make conclusions. I had no vested interest but to see how classes were running. Along the way, if I got to learn a bit about their culture and lifestyles, it was great. The sun had set as we made our way back through the jungle and the tall trees had added to the darkness. I was in constant fear of getting lost and meeting the eyes we could not see earlier. The

se watchful eyes were known to come out in the night. Overall, this visit was very good in instilling more confidence in my mind about the level of safety in Bastar. (I use the word safety instead of danger here, which I hope will reflect my change in mindset)

The third day was very exciting as we got closer to the villagers we met in a third village. And, as is usually the case in most social gatherings, alcohol was the lubricant that smothered any differences or fear we had in our minds. I was introduced to the world of Bastar Beer (sulphi) and mahua and tadi. Well, usually, I am not fond of drinking but when the locals brought me these things with a lot of love I thought it would be a good idea to oblige. Though, there were no great utterances of words post this, I felt much closer to them than before. I felt very warm in their presence. And, this was not the alcohol taking effect, I genuinely felt like we were the same and that there was no need for fear any more. Their sense of hospitality was as good as you might find in any other normal village in India. The only difference here was the circumstances under which these people were living. These circumstances have defined their identity. And, unless you mustered the courage to get close to them, this identity will present itself to you as the reality. But as soon as you get, even remotely, close to them this false identity will fall apart to give way to the real self.

This is what provoked a line above on my wanting to do this trip again. I feel like I need to understand these places better. That I need to understand the people of these places better before taking any stance on the conflict between naxals and government. Till now I took a stance on this issue based my reading of articles in newpapers and my theoretical understanding of ideologies. But this trip changed the way I looked at this issue. I now want to

understand the people living in these situations before taking a stand eitherways. May be, eventually, I won't take a stand eitherways if I feel that taking a stance eitherways will hurt the livelihoods of the people here.

Before concluding, though, one observation that I feel I should share is that villages that were of C category of naxal activity, usually had a pukka road leading to it in addition to some signs of electricity (even if it is only a pole for transmission of electricity). On the other hand, villages that were of higher category of naxal activity didn't have any of these. Well, I do not want anybody to draw conclusions from these observations because in statistical terms they are based on a small sample size. But I hope this will encourage many others to visit these areas to truly understand the situation. For myself, I am quite sure of doing another trip to these areas some time soon.