Swami Agnivesh and friends meet the comrades
Source :-
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/7487282.cms?prtpage=1
Supriya
Sharma, TNN, Feb 13, 2011, 02.43pm IST
NARAYANPUR: "Have you seen
the film Avataar?," asked Swami Agnivesh, as he trudged along a jungle path
this Friday, carefully avoiding sharp edged stones, and the even sharper
thorns in the bushes.
"Isn't this place like the other planet shown in the film? And aren't our
adivasi brothers just like the Naavi people? Simple and innocent".
Clad in his trademark saffron, at striking contrast with the greens and
browns of the forest, the 71 year old social activist was on his way to free
five policemen held hostage for 18 days by the Maoists. The destination was
an undisclosed location somewhere inside Abhujmaad, literally the unknown
forest, in Chhattisgarh's Bastar region. And accompanying the Swami, were a
group of human right activists, a gaggle of media, and the distraught
families of the captured policemen.
"I want my munna back," wept Amarwati Devi, tears rolling down her creased
face, half covered with the pallu of her saree. The old woman had travelled
with her daughter from a village in Rewa, Madhya Pradesh by tonga, train,
bus, and car. Like the others, she was finally trekking in the jungle to
reunite with her 26 year old son.
On January 25, her son Rajjan Dubey, a constable in Chhattisgarh armed
force, had left his camp at Dhanora, to get home to recover from a bout of
malaria. Along with four other policemen, he boarded a passenger bus, riding
unarmed, camouflaged among civilians. A few kilometres ahead, the bus was
stopped and searched by the Maoists. His cover was blown up. All five
policemen were taken hostage.
For a week, there was no word from the Maoists. Then, they shot off a
charter of 11 demands - stop greenhunt, release those held in false cases,
withdraw troops, scrap the plan for army training - followed by word that
they were willing to release the policemen unconditionally, in the presence
of human rights activists, provided the police stayed away.
For the Swami, still nursing wounds of the death of Azad, the Maoist
spokesperson, and his peace initiative, this offered the chance of much
needed balm - and possibly a new opening.
A message from the
Maoists made him call the chief minister, who welcomed the mediation and
assured him that police operations would be suspended for 24 hours, all for
the sake of the safe return of the men.
Next day, the Swami flew into Chhattisgarh with Gautam Navlakha and Harish
Dhawan of People's Union for democratic rights, and Kavita Srivastava and B
Suresh of People's Union for Civil Liberties. The group drove straight to
Bastar. The TV cameras followed. So did the satellite vans. The rendezvous
with the comrades, the release of the cops, with the blessings of both the
government and the Maoists - it looked like a straight script.
But next day, it almost unravelled. Driving all day through blinding dust
and confusion, with several wrong turns, failed forays, and rising tempers,
it had begun to feel like "a wild goose chase", as one member of the
entourage put it, when at three in the afternoon, 'contact' was established
with the comrades. Word came in: the village lay just six kilometres ahead.
After an hour and half of walk, the stillness of the dusty jungle broke.
Olive green figures shifted and moved. The sounds of a drum and a song
wafted in. "Swagat hai Buddheejeevi saathiyon ka, swagaat hai Manav Adhikar
saathiyon ka, parijanon ka..." (We welcome our intellectual friends, human
rights friends, the families of policemen.)
In a circular alcove, lined with trees and red banners, village folk sat in
stony silence, while Maoist cadres, thin women and men, stood around with
rifles slung on their shoulders. A Maoist woman led a singing choir on an
improvised microphone. A group of women danced in ghunghroos and green long
skirts.
Overseeing the arrangements, a diminutive woman in uniform, Comrade Neeti,
flitted around. A young man, Comrade Prabhat stood by. Both are members of
the East Bastar Divisional Committee of the CPI Maoist.
Minutes later, the five policemen were brought to the alcove. They first
shook hands mechanically with a line up of cadre. And then, after a moment
of pregnant pause, they collapsed into the arms of their families, in loud
sobs.
Mobbed by cameras, head constable T Ekka's son clutched him tightly, weeping
profusely, wetting his shirt. Constable Manishankar Dubey's ageing father
held his son in a steady embrace.
As the families quietened down, Swami announced, "Our comrade brothers have
given proof of their humanitarian values. They is a lot of false propaganda
about them. But after witnessing this, it is hard to believe that," he said.
Then, unexpectedly he raised his fist, breaking into slogan. "Bhartiya
communist party Maowadi, lal salaam." Everybody joined him, including
the policemen.
Called to the microphone next, the five men delivered a short staccato
speech, one by one. The vocabulary was similar. So were the narratives. "I
come from a poor family. I joined the police because I needed a job. When
the comrades caught me, I was initially terrified. I thought these were
violent people, they would chop me, kill me. But they treated me very well,"
said Mani Shankar Dubey. "It felt like we were home," said Ramadhar Patel.
"They cared for us like children," said Raghunandan Dhruv.
Speeches over, the policemen filed back to sit with their families. Amarwati
encircled her munna around the waist. The agonised look was gone. Her face
beamed with pure joy.
Meanwhile, another group had walked up to the microphone to talk about their
families. Villagers spoke in Gondi about their missing sons and daughters,
arrested, beaten, taken away by the police. Some cases were recent, others
dated back years.
Furiously jotting down names, Gautam Navlakha asked a woman with a child on
her hip, "When was your husband taken away?" She said, "Do saal". Another
villager intervened, "Nahi, teen saal". Gautam asked, using his figures to
gesture, "Do ya teen?" The woman thought again. "Teen".
By now, the light had faded. The crowds had dispersed. Cooking fires had
been lit. As tea was passed around, a small radio set crackled and came
alive. "Namaskar, yeh hai BBC radio..Chhattisgarh se aa rahi khabaroon ke
mutabik
Swami Agnivesh aur manna adhikar karyakarton ka maowadiyon se sampark ho
gaya hai.. Police karmi kee rihaayee ho
gayi hai (It is hard to get clear details, but it appears that the group led
by Swami Agnivesh has successfully contacted the Maoists inside the jungle.
The policemen will soon return to safety.)
Back on the jungle path, walking in moonlight, the landscape imbued with a
mild Avataar like surreality, the Swami reflected, "I hope this will open
the road to peace."
Read more:
Swami Agnivesh and friends meet the comrades -
The Times of India
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