Dantewada...

Life Behind The Iron Curtain

http://tehelka.com/story_main43.asp?filename=Ne160110life_behind.asp

The hounding of activist Himanshu Kumar is a parable about the war and
panic in Chhattisgarh and the complete blackout of information,
reports TUSHA MITTAL in Tehelka


HIMANSHU KUMAR is shaving his moustache to become more unrecognisable.
Instead of the usual white kurta, he’s wearing a red shirt and jeans.
The lights in his two-room rented house have been turned off. If you
chanced upon him on a winter night in Dantewada, Chhattisgarh,
speaking in hushed whispers about jumping off the back wall and
disappearing into the darkness, you might have mistaken this Gandhian
activist for a fugitive.

For the last 18 years, Himanshu has been trudging through the jungles
of rural Chhattisgarh, empowering tribals, teaching them how to vote
and bringing them access to food and healthcare through his Vanvasi
Chetna Ashram (VCA). When his wife first joined him, he told her to
replace her make-up kit with medicines. Despite living in this
Maoist-dominated conflict zone for nearly two decades, despite its
many intimidations, Kumar has never felt the urge to flee. Until now
that is – when the might of the State is upon him.

Trouble first began to escalate in 2005 when the infamous Salwa Judum
was launched. The VCA filed at least 600 complaints against human
rights violations by the State and fake encounters by the police.
Himanshu Kumar was transformed in the State’s eyes from trusted aide
to adversary. In May 2009, his ashram was brutally demolished by the
police. Now suddenly, the Gandhian activist has lost his liberty. He
lives in a free country, but does not have the freedom to walk out
through the front door of his own house.

“Should I get arrested and become a martyr or should I leave before
they catch me?” Himanshu Kumar wonders out loud on the morning of
January 4. He knows what happened to Binayak Sen. He knows he could be
next. “I’m worried the police will implicate me in a false case. They
could arrest me anytime now,” he says.

This is not misplaced paranoia. Himanshu’s makeshift ashram is under
constant police surveillance. On January 3, his car was stopped by the
police as it sped from Dantewada to Raipur carrying Sodi Shambo, 28, a
tribal woman with a fractured leg held together by a metal rod.
Shambo’s husband was tilling the fields on the morning of October 1,
2009, when Salwa Judum SPOs barged into Goompad village. One bullet
from their guns split open her leg. Her children leapt towards her,
covering her body. That could be why she is still alive. Nine others
were killed during combing operations. Most were those who could not
run away — Madvi Yankaiya, 50; Madvi Bajaar 50 and his wife Madvi
Subhi, 45; their daughters Madvi Kanama, 20 and eight-year-old Madvi
Mooti; and a newly married couple Soyam Subaiya, 20 and Soyam Subhi,
18. Another 2-year-old boy was found with his fingers missing. The
Dantewada SP announced that nine Naxalites had been killed in an
encounter in Goompad village. This is the tale the outside world would
have believed, had Himanshu not met Shambo during a regular public
hearing in the forest. She told him about the massacre she had
witnessed; he ensured she filed a writ petition in the Supreme Court.
The court accepted her petition and directed the state to file a
response.

Had Shambo reached Delhi, where she was headed for medical treatment,
she could have become a major embarrassment for the Chhattisgarh
government. This is why Himanshu and Shambo were suddenly surrounded
by police on the highway and detained at Kanker police station. There
was an order from the Dantewada SP that Shambo be produced in the
police station to record her statement on the Goompad killings. Shambo
had been living openly in Himanshu’s ashram in Dantewada for the last
two months but the police had not approached her for a statement. “We
did not know where she was. We were trying to find her,” says SP
Amaresh Mishra ingenuously. “I found out through an Internet forum
that Himanshu was taking her to Raipur. I also got a letter from
Shambo’s masi two days ago accusing Himanshu of vanishing Shambo all
this while.” This was a patently concocted assertion given that
Himanshu had presented Shambo to the media at a big press conference
in Delhi in October. Clearly, a false case of abduction against Kumar
was in the works. According to Colin Gonsalves, a senior advocate who
has filed a writ petition in the Supreme Court on the Shambo case,
it’s actually the other way around. “This amounts to illegal abduction
by the police. Shambo is not an accused. She cannot be forced to go
anywhere,” said he.

On January 4, Shambo was sent to Maharani Hospital in Jagdalpur for
further treatment under police “security.” Sudhir Thakhur, the doctor
responsible, admitted the hospital did not have the required medical
facility to perform Shambo’s surgery. TEHELKAwas not allowed to speak
to Shambo at the hospital, despite a guarantee from the Dantewada SP
that she was not being kept in confinement. Even after the director of
the hospital gave permission, police personnel guarding Shambo’s bed
refused to let us near her. When we tried to talk to the ward nurse,
the police ensured they overheard the conversation.

As Himanshu shaves off his moustache in the darkness, it is almost as
if he is at a tipping point. Caught in a pool of quicksand, he must
leap out immediately or sink. “My faith is not shaken. I’m just
feeling trapped inside a web. To break this perhaps it is necessary
for me to go fight from a new place. I am not running away. I just
need to change my location.”

THE BATTLE between the State and Maoists is well known. But in
Chhattisgarh, another battle has been fast gathering steam — between
the State and civil society, between a policed existence and the idea
of democracy, between a coerced media and free speech. Himanshu Kumar
is now at the centre of that battle. Over the years, he had become one
of the few bridges that link the rest of India to the remote jungles
of Chhattisgarh. Given the national media’s neglect, and the absence
of a robust local press, he was perhaps the only disseminator of an
alternate reality. Without him and a few other activists working in
the area, there would be only one version — that of the State. This is
what the Chhattisgarh government is now trying to create. Every few
days there is news of an encounter — six killed in Jagargunda, another
six killed in Gumyipal. No one knows if these are Naxals or ordinary
tribals. The State doesn’t seem to want anyone to find out.

At a recent press conference in Raipur, Chhattisgarh DGP Vishwa Ranjan
told journalists on record that there could be police action against
them if they wrote in favour of Naxalites. Two weeks ago in Dantewada,
DIG SR Kalluri called journalists into his office for one-on-one
sessions. “He told us not to write in favour of the Naxals (euphemism
for not writing anything against the State) and said the police have
their eyes on us,” says NRK Pillai, vice-president of the Chhattisgarh
Working Journalists Union. “The atmosphere isn’t conducive. There’s no
one really to back us. Press owners will not stand by us. There’s
always the fear of what will happen to our families.”


In the last two months, as Operation Green Hunt has got underway, the
Chhattisgarh government has upped the ante in its efforts to squash
any space for dissent and democratic protest. Stories from the jungles
are not being allowed out; neutral outsiders are not being allowed in.


On December 29, 2009, Delhi University professor of sociology Nandini
Sundar and political science professor Ujjwal Kumar Singh arrived in
Bastar to undertake an independent survey of the situation. They found
all the hotel rooms in the small towns of Dantewada and Sukma
mysteriously full, out of bounds for them. The professors had to spend
the night in a jeep, before they got accommodation at a boys’ hostel.
There too, seven armed SPOs barged into Sundar’s room, then spent the
night patrolling the grounds outside. The next day two jeeps of armed
SPOs followed the professors around until they left Chhattisgarh,
ensuring they could make no neutral enquiries from villagers about
what was happening on the ground.

TEHELKA was meted the same treatment. On January 4, we were denied the
right to stay at Madhuban Lodge, the only hotel in Dantewada. The
receptionist opened rooms for us at first, but suddenly changed his
mind when he got a call from his manager. The manager said the hotel
had orders from the police not to give rooms to journalists without a
“proper enquiry.” Dantewada ASP Rajendra Jaiswal denied that any such
order exists but refused to call the hotel to clarify this. “Why
should I help a stranger?” he told TEHELKA. Later, the hotel owner
said all the rooms were needed for a family function.

On January 6, a band of activists, including Medha Patkar and
Magsaysay award winner Sandeep Pandey, were assaulted with stones and
eggs as they marched to the SP’s office in Dantewada for some answers.
The police looked on.

Though there is little clarity on whether the offensive against the
Naxals – Operation Green Hunt – has officially begun, another kind of
assault certainly has. So far, Himanshu Kumar has certainly borne the
brunt of it.

On December 14, 2009, a mob several hundred-strong surrounded
Himanshu’s ashram, shouting slogans like “Himanshu Bhagao, Bastar
Bachao”. They were protesting a padyatra he was about to undertake to
engage with the tribals. Such an expedition would boost the morale of
the Maoists and dampen that of the security forces, they alleged.
According to Himanshu, the mob consisted of SPOs and tribals lifted
from Salwa Judum camps to stage a demonstration. The padyatra was to
be followed by a satyagraha to protest police excesses and a jan
sunvai (public hearing) to take stock of ground realities post the
declaration of Operation Green Hunt. In what was being perceived as a
sign of positive intent, Home Minister P Chidam baram had agreed to
attend the public hearing. Human rights groups from across the country
were scheduled to participate. But that came crashing down when the
State decided it would not allow anyone to explore its territory.

HIMANSHU RECEIVED a notice from Reena Kangale, the Dantewada
collector, prohibiting him from initiating any public assembly.
“Section 144 was imposed because of municipal elections,” says
Kangale. “I denied permission for a padyatra and issued a prohibitory
order stating the police can take action if any public meetings happen
without my consent.” On December 13, an all-women fact-finding team
was stopped at several points enroute to Dantewada and not allowed
access inside. The Chhattisgarh Governor advised Chidambaram not to
attend the jan sunvayi for safety reasons. The Home Minister stayed
put.

The mob attack from “tribals” was also used as a pretext to send a
jeep of armed SPOs as security for Himanshu. “There is a threat to his
life. The tribals are unhappy with him. We are giving him police
protection,” Dantewada SP Amaresh Mishra told TEHELKA. That Himanshu
himself has written to the SP stating he does not want this protection
is irrelevant.

The police “protection” has successfully hampered Himanshu’s work. He
is unable to visit villages on fact-finding missions. Any complaints
from tribals against the State bring instant reprisals. There have
been other intimidations. Under pressure, Himanshu’s current landlord,
an employee of the local district council, asked him to vacate the
house in a few weeks.

To disable Himanshu further, his key aide Kopa Kunjam was arrested on
December 10 on charges of murdering a former sarpanch, Punem Honga.
Honga was abducted by Maoists along with another sarpanch who had been
traveling with Kopa on his bike on July 2, 2009. According to VCA, the
night before he was arrested, Kopa was offered Rs 25,000 to quit
working with Himanshu and warned of dire consequences if he continues.
Kopa refused the money. Sukhdev, another backbone of the VCA, was
threatened with a similar fate after Kopa’s arrest. He quit. Lingu,
another aide who also quit, confirmed to TEHELKA that he was with Kopa
at the Dantewada police station the day before Kopa’s arrest, and was
present when the police tried to convince Kopa to take up “other more
meaningful work”.

The Maoists are not willing to talk, and the State is clearly not
allowing any other dialogue. Himanshu’s struggle becomes more poignant
in the backdrop of the violence being unleashed all around it. The
Maoists continue to fell trees, block trains, abduct and kill. The
Salwa Judum continues to rape women, burn houses, loot and kill. Amid
all the chaos, as the year ended, one man sat in a white kurta, under
a sprawling tree, spooling a loom of thread. He had not been allowed a
padyatra or a satyagraha or a jan sunvai, so he was fasting to protest
State atrocities. But events over the last two days have forced the
man in the white kurta to shave his moustache and turn into a man in
red shirt and jeans — a reminder of an original freedom struggle,
being scuttled all over again.