naxalism...crime or despair

Naxalite, first time i heard this term when i was just eight. Oneday while coming back from my school i saw the people mostly from backward class gathering and raising slogans against capatalism, curruption, beaurocracy and forward class monopoly. Coming back home I asked my dad about it who explained it as "some people who believe in equal distribution of wealth and human resources call themselves nexalite have come to our village and they are instigating people of lower casts against upper cast. My next question was, "why to target certain section of society. Wealth has nothing to do with the cast. Nepali Bhuiyan of my village is wealthier than Belu Singh".Dad replied saying," that's where politics come beta. These so called nexalites are nothing but local goon brigades of politicians. Politicians feed them so that they can be handful during the elections". Definately my infant mind couldn't understand the complexities of his sentence and realised better to forget about it as i had more important works to do - captaing the village soccer team, but before that creating a soccer team. My dad had bought me a football and for last ten days I was trying to gather my friends to create the first soccer team of my village, but so far not a single one had come my way as they had to help their parents in the field after the school hours. That day only I had persued some dalit kids to play, as they didn't go to schools and could manage sometime for me in the evening.

After almost ten days of that incident of people gathering and raising anti forward class slogan, I heard that our lands have been captured by the dalits of our village. It created a rage in forward and muslim dominated mohallahs of my village that the people who used to work for us in our field on daily wages have suddenly become the landowners by force and were ready to meet the eyes and muscles anytime required. Whole village was tense rifted in two parts. The dalit boys who used to play with me didn't turn up that day. In the night all the landowners assembled at my house seeking advice from my father. After the long discussion they decided to lodge a complain against dalits in local police station. Early morning my father led the landowners to police station. Surprisingly police refused to ladge a complain worrying about the current political situation and suggested the villagers to do nothing against dalits as that might lead to a bigger incident.

Tension was rising day by day. Everybody was having his own opinion regarding the current situation and nexalites. I was hurt and happy at the same time. Hurt because among the captured land some part belonged to the poor family's like Belu Singh. And the reason to be happy was that all my friends were free now to play soccer with me as their parents were not going to field to work. Amid all these we had develped lot many games posing nexalites as hero and villain.We were not allowed to go to the village playground, as that falls under dalit area. General rumour was that some more nexalites are coming from Nepal to help dalits to keep control over captured land. The most surprising was that after repeated complains, police didn't bother to come to village once even to guege the situation.

Almost after fifteen days of land capturing incident, Nexalites announced a 'maharally', which was supposed to start from local police station and has to end at my village. Landowners of my village took this as a perfect opportunity to show the muscle power. Messengers were sent to all the neighbouring villages seeking help. Preparation started for the doomsday. People from nearby villages started gathering with their weapons. it was a warlike situation. Finally the day came. A big crowd assembled in village playground. Lots of regiments were made. I remember just one name among them for their idiotic weapon. It was 'Durgawahini'. It was regiment of women, which had to stay back in village and protect the children. Their weapon was chilli powder and the head of this regiment was Panditain kaki, who has enormous size and considered strongest among women in my village. Since morning she was trying to motivate this Durgawahini regiment citing the example of Devi Durga and Rani Laxmibai. She had special uniform recommended to her regiment - red sari.

Anyway, maharally of nexalites reached our village. My father escorted by five young men went to them for a peace talk. They refused to talk and tried to bully the young escorts. The regements assembled in the village ground saw it and with roar of Allah-ho-akbar and Jai Bajrangbali they ran against the nexalite maharally. Nexalites couldn't handle this sudden attack and they started dispursing and running away. Some got cought and beaten badly. After that incident, for next twenty years no nexalite came to my village. But recently I have heard that they have again turned up to capture some parts of our forest land. Police is again working cowardly by ignoring the situation...

Anyway, why I am compelled to blog this story of my small village is that I met a retired nexalite here at Doha few days ago. This bengali fellow is aged between 60-65 and prefers to remain anonymous. He was one of the most active members of Naxalbadi movement in his youth days. After a couple of meetings we started talking about his favourite topic - Naxalism. I am leftist from the blood, but perhaps due to my childhood experience of above incident I never favoured naxalism. So while talking to this gentleman I always opposed his motion. In response he would always get furious and say, "The notion that a Naxalite is someone who hates his country is naive and usually idiotic. He is, more likely, one who likes his country more than the rest of us, and is thus more disturbed than the rest of us when he sees it debauched. He is not a bad citizen turning to crime; he is a good citizen driven to despair"...then after a silence he would start again,"Who wants to sacrifice his whole life running away from police? Who doesn't want to stay along with his family and live a comfortable life? Who wants his family to be tortured by police day and night? And above all who wants to be called a terrorist and hated by majority? There must be some very rude, unholy and disturbing incidents beyond mine and your imagination which compells somebody to become a nexalite. I am brahmin by birth and had heridated good ancestral property to live my life with luxury, but renounced everything to join naxalbadi. The reason was that I couldn't see anymore the huge gap of my society between poor and rich, upper and lower cast, big and small, civillian and beaurocrats......couldn't see anymore...I just wanted to make two humen equal and I am happy that more or less we achieved our goal." Taking last sip of tea near gulf cinema he said.

Then I narrated him the story of my village and told that again nexalites have appeared from somewhere, captured our forest and now issueing threating letters to villagers. In response he said the same thing what my father had told twenty years ago in response of my question about nexalites,"that's where politics come. These are not nexalite, but just the local goon brigades of politicians. Politicians feed them so that they can be handful during the elections. They don't even know what naxalism is. They are uneducated goons, taking orders from top politicians and misleading people with wrong agendas. It hurts that they are giving naxalism a bad name".
He left me there to have my final cup of tea and headed towards his home. But for some reason came back again to say, " listen Gautam, I want to tell you something very important. Remeber it always - Naxalbadi can not be called a bygone era. This is requirement of every human society. But with time and space it has to change it's shape, policies and agendas". With a smile we parted.
It seems few more meetings and he will make me a nexalite...

...he was a kashmiri

yesterday, after my office i decided to do some shopping. I took up a taxi for local irani market. On my way to market my driver asked, "where are you from sir". " i am from bombay" i replied asking him the same question. He hesitated and then replied caustiously " main pakistan se hun". oh cool...showing overjoy and trying to make him comfortable i asked "where in pakistan man". after a long pause he said, " kashmir.... i am from Pakistan occupied kashmir". He turned to me to know my reaction and then contiued, "i hope you are not going to take me for a terrorist, as in india our part of world is considered 'a terrorist ground'.......we kashmiries are not terrorist....we are peace loving people and want to live a life with honour and prosperity like rest of the world does. But the politicians of both the countries will not let us do so, as they have their own political agendas. Pakistan makes us moujahidin saying urgent requirement for our freedom and india slaughters naming us terrorist. I have lost my four young children in the name of jihad." he cries and then continues "Today at the age of 65, i have to come to another country and drive a taxi so that i can feed my familymembers as i am the only male left alive in my family". He takes a pause and then continues, "It's to tiring for me now. I am fighting my age everyday. Hope I will run for another 2 - 3 years. what will happen after that? who will feed my family after me? who will guarantee their security?" ...he kept on with his questions but perhaps after that i lost my hearing capabilities. With the jerk of taxi when i got my conscience back I found him looking at me stopping his taxi. I was sitting shy, wondering if i have anything to offer which in any sense might become consoling for him! Almost for next two minutes he kept gazing at me and i kept looking down paralyzed by his questions. Eventually he broke the silence requesting me to get down as we had reached the Irani market. I paid him the fare and headed. after reaching near the marker gate i looked back. he was still staring at me with sad smirk and expressionless face asking the same questions again and agian. Perhaps he had expected little more than some qatari riyals, perhaps an answer...which i didn't have. I hurried myself inside the market to avoid his blank look and questioning eye...and... to be in my comfortable world.