Love Story of a Comrade……
- Ankit Jha
1.
It was the midnight of a new moon,
eyes couldn’t identify the hands in such dark. Above all, there was the
infraction of clouds over the sky, the whole of Forest slept in a deep slumber.
It rained earlier, so land was wet and muddy. A young boy, ran ripping through
the woods, the silence of the forest was disturbed by the sound of bullets, and
forest broke its nap. Again, infinite silence. Binding Maroon
Ribbon on forehead, olive green dress
and a gun hanging on the shoulders, he was running the race of his life. He
didn’t care about the scorpions and serpents under his leg. He was running,
trapping in the creeps, colliding with twigs, the sting of the scorpions,
everything is less painful than the pain of martyrdom. He doesn’t want to die
of a Police Bullet. He can’t afford his death of a Government Bullet, such was
his hate for the Government. Not a single ray of hope for him, till the 3rd
phase of night. He has crossed miles running from his own hill, where his Sangham*
was attacked by auxiliary police. He saw some mild light of Lamps from
forest, tired and exhausted he followed the light. He entered the village. He
is the same comrade who has killed dozens CRPF personnel in various combats.
His legs began shivering, and finally he sprawled on the ground. He gathered consciousness
within minutes and stood up, but exhaustion overpowered his wit. This time he
fell before a door-post. There were infinite wounds on the shoulder because of
abrasions with the creeps, several gashes of bullets, back was nothing short of
a colander and endless stings on the toe. He laid there cataleptic. Ribbon
didn’t mislay by a single millimetre, nor that sign of communism, “The Red
Star”. It has gone more reddish.
2.
“Have you ever thought how much
damage are they causing to the nation? Ok, they will save the water, wood and land,
but about the lives? Do lives have no value? Salwa Judum, was right,
they deserve it because they caused it.” Abha passed the cup of tea to
his father. She is enraged by the death of 3 security personnel in last night operation.
No one could make a point, whether she was enraged or mourning. There’s a
complete silence everywhere, in the house, in Pakhanjore, in Bastar, in
Chhattisgarh, in India… There’s a series of silence. A silence which, is more
powerful than the harshest of noises. Salwa Judum. Karma’s Karma.
There’s a big debate on it, someone supports it on the ground of its origin,
and many oppose it on the ground of its working. Abha is enraged by the
fact that who has got the right to kill the other? Whereas Parikshit Ji
believes that one needs to enter the fire to extinguish it, there’s no option
of stepping back. Supporting and clashing are the parts of life. This family of two differs from any other
family in the world. They don’t agree with each other’s thoughts. The family of
a father and daughter. Father is a suspended professor of Jadavpur University
and Daughter has just passed her graduation in Political Science from
University of Delhi, they both live at Sadabhat Village near Pakhanjore. Parikshit Ji and Abha share an
all different relationship with each other, so near yet so far. As the dawn
broke and birds started chirruping, the
fragrance of Mahua filled the courtyard, Abha woke his father up.
The pleasing slumber in the chilly morning is the hardest to leave, still Abha
forced his father to leave the bed. They both came out of their veranda and
followed to main gate yawning. Abha opened the gate, a man in the Olive
dress was lying still. “A wounded Naxalite” whispered Abha, Parikshit I
have her a grave feel.
At times, humanity asks severe questions to the humans, specially to
those who believe in humanism. “He is a Maoist” said Abha, “He is
wounded” replied Parikshit ji. “Police men might be watching him, ” said
Abha, “But death is already close to him” replied Parikshit ji. “They have
killed humans, ” said Abha, “He is bleeding” replied Parikshit ji.
“What if Security forces kill us?” Worried Abha, “What is he dies on our
door-post?” Replied Prikshit ji. “What will his life give you” asked Abha,
“What will he end give to you” replied Parikshit ji. The humans in the
olive lied there, soaked in blood, his red ribbon on forehead lost its hold. Parikshit
ji turned the body, they saw his face. “How can such innocent faces be so
cruel?” whispered Abha. “Mankind are not cruel, intentions are, ” said
his father. Blood fell from the wound, even the stings might have cleared the
matter worse for him, and they both chose the man in. “What shall we make out
with this man now?” The daughter then asked. “We will save his life” answered the
father. “And how?” The daughter then asked. No solution in his disposal, the
father stared at the human race in a pity. “Have him carry a rest for today,
and wash the wounds by water, ” said the father and proceeded towards the
kitchen to get water. Abha stood there, she kept staring at the man. “Even
the death has the fear of the end, ” she remembered.
3.
Wounds washed, fatigue relaxed, strings
removed, the man escaped from his palm. Abha yelled in delight, her father
ran towards her. His palm constantly trembled but eyes couldn’t open. They
stood breathless, waiting. Silence, the unending silence. Water came out of his
mouth, Abha shouted in terror. The man in olive green uniform sat in a fierce
motion and threw up, suddenly he sprawled again. They both feared to their
nerves, before he spread out his eyes. They seemed surprisingly at each other. The man in an olive green dress couldn’t get
his whereabouts, he kept staring. Parikshit ji said, “You are safe Comrade.”
Abha, still panicked, asked “Who are you?” The man couldn’t answer anything.
The day turned humid as the sun struck the
middle of the sky. The guest, the father and the daughter sat in the room, the
guest is still silent. Parikshit ji consoled him to be alright. “They barge
into the camps, ask for extortion, ask for entertainment, and beat us to death.
No girl, no woman is spared to be entertainment, no man, no boy is spared for
becoming victims of anger. They call themselves Purification Army, they call
themselves Saviors, they call themselves Security Forces, and we are
uncivilized. Uncivilized enough to be killed, uncivilized enough to be
displaced,” Sobbed the man in olive green uniform. “What’s your name, comrade?”
asked Parikshit ji. The guest gave him a confused glare, he didn’t utter
anything. “3 of my best comrades were killed last night’s tussle, it was a
deadly attack. No one ask them question that who has given them right to kill
us?” continued the man in olive green dress. “I asked your name comrade”
reminded Parikshit ji. “Comrade Rakesh” revealed the guest. “Can I please have
something to eat, I am very hungry” requested Rakesh. Abha stood and marched
towards kitchen.
She had a mobile phone in her hand, Rakesh rushed
towards her and snatched the phone. “No one will use this till I am here, got
it.” Abha tried to get it back but in vain and Rakesh broke the phone in
pieces. “Just follow what I tell, don’t put your view.” Warned Rakesh. “This is
why we call you beasts, is this the way anyone behave with his hosts?” sparked
Abha and came back. “Now go to hell, and ask your Marx* for food.” Parikshit ji stood up and went inside his
room. “Abha, go and arrange some food for Marx, he might not do that all alone,
and it has been ages for him now.” Mocked the father. Abha and Rakesh
stood facing each other, she was fuming. He came back to sit, “You must die in
an encounter, you deserve that,” She shouted. “No, I deserve the same status
that you do have in the society.” Replied Rakesh. “He went to cover your
bullshit and never came back, you people killed him labelling him a police
informer. My brother, he was not an informer, he was just an intern, my mother,
she didn’t refuse to give your commander shelter, she told him to stay for a
while so that she can clean the house and your commander shot her. What
revolution has my mother and brother’s demise bring? I don’t see any. I can
call police now and inform them about your stay, but I can’t because my father
tells, humans are not bad, intentions are.” Abha broke in tears. Her
father came out of his room to keep her calm, but she cried her heart out.
“Maoism has taken a lot from us, except of the hopes. Even I was leaned towards
it, before it shook our lives,” Said Parikshit ji. He kept quiet,
staring at Abha, who was crying. “Why don’t you people understand that
we don’t like you, we just have a fear, the fear of Jantana Adaalat, we
don’t want to imagine how painful our death will be, just like my son’s death.
He was stoned to death.” Even his eyes went humid.
4.
“So you are a Maoist?” asked Abha. “I
thought you are a human.” “Aren’t the Maoists, humans?” asked Rakesh.
“No, one who can kill innocents, I don’t call them warriors. The armed struggle
against state can only be called treason. You have stolen the dreams of
innocents, it is you who have created the difference.” Replied Abha.
“No, we have not created the differences, we are the one who became the victims
of differences. Wouldn’t you like to know what this struggle is all about?”
asked Rakesh. “I know enough about it, but I am not a sympathizer. It is
a delegated struggle, troops have been created to fight, so that several on the
ranks can enjoy their ideological struggle. Even Marx would have hated the way
Left Wing Extremism has created the internal chaos in the society.” Said Abha.
“Agree, but aren’t you seeing everything from one perspective, which is better
known as the popular view. Try to see in Insider’s view” replied Rakesh.
“You are lying Comrade! You know that you have killed the innocents for
nothing, you aim to have a government, and you want to rule, by your methods,
on your means. Your struggle is for an Anarchy. You tell me, how much do you
know about communism and Marxism, why did you chose to be one of them?” Taunted
Abha. Rakesh was silent. “I was one of them, from the day I got to see
the world. I don’t remember anything in my life before my association with Sangham.
Today I am ready to die for my struggle and I can kill anyone for the cause.
You know how horrible the Salwa Judum has turned out to be, villages
have been evacuated, and families are forced to live in camps, the camps where
they have no social security, no jobs, no food, and no safety. Around 0.1
million people in Bastar live in these camps. Being Neutral I will say that,
they are the biggest victims, not those who died in Gyaneshwari Express
incident* or any other event. Even I am a child of tribe, and tribes have been
displaced from their native places, around 1200 villages in Bastar are full of
tribal population, their neutral behavior towards the matter has been their
biggest crime.” Said Rakesh. “And, what about the Naxal atrocities on
tribal population?” asked Paikshit ji from his room. “You call that
Atrocity, we call that trust. We fight for them, in return we seek for the
support. What more do we ask for, just trust. Nothing more. It is their
struggle, we fight together. We don’t have differences, we speak their
language, we address them the way they are, we go to ask their happiness and
sorrows, we remain awake so that they can sleep fearlessly, we put salve on
their wounds. What do we ask in the return? Comrades,” thundered Rakesh.
“You are the one who collect the extortion money, you are the one who brainwash
them against the government, you are the one who don’t let the development
reach to them, you are the one who have created such situations, you are the
one who lie, you are the one who manipulate, you are the one who kill, you are
the one who blackmail, you are the one who made innocent humans your comrades,
you are the one who leave innocent tribes to die in the battlefield, you are
the one who grasped the society and culture of tribes and blamed it on the
government. Don’t we know that Sanghams don’t take the tea, they live on
Black Tea and always roam when your brain sits in the deluxe rooms criticizing
government moves? It is not just about murders, it is about brutality, treason
and conspiracy against the state. It is about backstabbing own peoples.”
Replied Abha. Rakesh was silent again, left nothing to utter, he stood
up in fierce motion. Suddenly there’s a knock on the door, everyone gets
startled by the knock. “Professor Saheb! Ghar pe hain kya aap? (Are you
at home, Professor?)” Asked a male
voice. Parikshit ji signaled Abha to hide Rakesh somewhere
in the house. He went to open the door, it was Constable Naamte. “We are
searching for a Maoist, has he come here?” asked Naamte. “Naamte Sahab!
You know I just criticize government, it doesn’t mean I will give shelter to a
Maoist in my house” said Parikshit ji. “No one other than you have
courage to hide a Maoist in his house, it’s alright if he hasn’t come here but
take care. He is a dangerous one, murderer of dozens of security personnel.” Said
Constable and left. Abha heard everything, “why did you do this? Who is
he? Better he die in the police encounter” said Abha. “Thanks Professor”
said Rakesh.
5.
It has been more than a week for Rakesh in
defilade at Professor’s house. Most of these times have been spent in the
debates, Abha has not found any reason to keep a sympathy and Rakesh is
overwhelmed by the host’s hospitality and their care for him. Professor has
been informed that there’s heavy Police Patrolling in whole area. In these 7
days, Rakesh has become a part of Professor’s family. He told Abha
that his real name was Chandan, he has never gone to school, and the only thing
he learnt was the communist philosophy in the Sangham Classes. He knows
that modern communism is rather Leninist than Marxist. It was raining for the
evening, Abha and Rakesh were still talking, that History has
never been easy for those who can’t face the truth, and various ex-army
officers help in the training and structuring the combats. Almost 80% of the
weapons and armatures are manufactured, 5% purchased and 15% looted. He used to
tell her how they plan the combats and kill the personnel, how they attack
camps, collect extortion money. He told her that almost eight thousand cadres
are in uniform and the annual budget of the Party is approximately 12 Crores.
The main target of the army are the class enemies.
Rakesh promised
that he will bring a new phone for her, had he ever come back alive. Abha
put her palm on his mouth, “death is the harshest reality, do never think of
it. There’s no life after this.” “I have never feared death, even at the time
when I was surrounded by the security forces last year, I fought back and
killed half a dozen personnel in retaliation. After that I evacuated almost 50
of my comrades safely from that area.” Took pride Rakesh. Abha looked
impressed. “Comrade Fagu Ram#, his love story, his
tragic death and his incomplete wishes.” Said Rakesh and showed Abha
some photographs. Both of them started seeing photographs. It was still
raining, cold breeze filled their breath till they went in their dreamland.
Mercy has no ideology, help doesn’t have any religion and shelter doesn’t have
any payback. They came to know that Police has taken their patrolling back and
I was easy to enter the village and cross the Maharashtra border. He decided to
leave, there can’t be better time than this. 7 days in the defilade, Comrade Rakesh
is all different man now, he could reason the ongoing events, which was
dangerous. Defiance and defilade has made Rakesh think of a life, which
is against the Naxal ideology of violence. It was his time to tell Professor
and his daughter a final good bye. Abha insisted him to stay with them,
Professor gave his nod too, but Rakesh refused on the ground that he has to
stand for his ideology and duty. He left their house and sprinted towards the
Forest, within minutes he came back running. It was a conspiracy, well planned
by the police to capture him. He didn’t enter the house, he ran instead. Abha
chased him. He ran furiously, Abha was chasing her, Police personnel were
behind them. Rakesh turned back, he saw Abha running behind him.
He stopped there, asked her to go back, just then, the bullet penetrated Abha’s
belly. Rakesh couldn’t understand anything, he didn’t have his gun with him. He
couldn’t shot back, she lost her consciousness and fell in his arms. Rakesh
held Abha in his arms. He was surrounded by the police force within
minutes. “Even I thought how Ganpathy
(A Zonal Committee Member) can inform us wrong?” said an officer. “Did Comrade Ganpathy
inform you about us?” asked Rakesh. “Any doubt comrade? He asked us to
bring you in front of him and then kill you. It is not possible now. What did
you think that you by killing several police personnel be made Zonal Commander?
You are a mere tribal beetle, you are born to die. So be it.” said the officer
and shot on his head. He was shot dead there along with innocent Abha,
who was later blamed to be a sympathizer and informer. Professor was arrested
on the ground that he provided shelter to the Maoists. Maoists kill Maoists, no
ideology is pure today. The tragic death of Comrade Rakesh and Abha raised
several questions but the biggest question was on the Maoism. How can a social
struggle be manipulated into the blind race of power.
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