The Story That Never Published: Media in India

The Story That Never Published: Media in India
In 2005 I went to the Dantewada jungles, accompanied by four other reporters, G Chandrasekar then of UNI, Shravan Kumar from TV Nine, Jinka Nagraju of Vaartha and a reporter called Petronobis of the Hindustan Times, who later went to Sri Lanka as the paper’s Colombo correspondent, to witness first hand as a reporter the Maoist activities and do an inside story of the Maoist life and activities.
Maoist activities then had become big news and most reporting from there was naturally what the Chhatisgarh and Andhra Pradesh Police were dishing out to the local reporters ensconced safely in Raipur. Goes without saying, that we too managed this close encounter only after some CPI (Maoist) emissaries found us reliable and trustworthy that we would not pass on the information about our journey in advance to the Police and other security agencies hunting down the Maoists in those jungles.
The whole thing was to be a very hush, hush affair. Yet I informed the then Resident Editor of the Asian Age Seema Mustafa, (since I was working for the Deccan Chronicle/Asian Age then), about my plans and sought her permission, which she readily gave, with considerable enthusiasm. I also sought some advance for my travel and expenses but Seema told me that since it was a hush, hush affair, I could bill the office only on my return and examining my limitations I agreed and hoped that once back from such an assignment my work would be appreciated and then naturally our Editor-in-Chief M J Akbar and Deccan Chronicle Editor A T Jayanti would readily compensate me for the expenses incurred.
Having assured myself on this count I set out on the journey. It was long and winding. We first travelled from New Delhi to Raipur on the train and checked into a hotel there. The next day we set out to buy some shoes etc to be able to walk long distances in the thick forest. The third day we waited for the emissary and in fact it was only on the fourth day when our guide found it safe to take us along, which again comprised of changing vehicles and stopping at non-descript little tea shops along the way to put off anyone tailing us.
In the meanwhile Chandrasekar suspecting we were being followed by the intelligence fellows dropped off and returned to Delhi while the three of us proceeded further, being dropped by a jeep at some deserted abandoned spot in the forest. It took us several hours almost half the day before we actually reached a place where the Maoists were holding their area meeting attended by about hundreds of villagers who had come from far and wide to attend this important meeting. There we were met with a French lady journalist as well as a journalist from Punjab, who had been to this place a couple of times earlier as well.
The meeting consisting of speeches and revolutionary songs as well as some little plays carried on till late in the evening. It was summers and the dusk set in late, by which time it all winded up while about fifty people, men, women and even children started marching till it was pitch dark and we could not make out where we were heading. We reached a spot where we lit some fire, cooked a frugal meal ate and slept on polythene sheets spread out as our beds, more to protect us from the red ants crawling all over than anything else.
Night even as some of them kept a vigil some cowherds came ostensibly in search of food perhaps smelling the smouldering fire. It was rather eerie and bizarre from someone like me who had never known anything beyond the urban comforts.
Morning dawned and I saw the most beautiful forest around with birds chirruping all over. We relieved and washed ourselves going out in groups of twos and threes with the women comrades escorting the French lady in one group. Our breakfast consisted of tea and some biscuits, nothing very substantial leave alone ostentatious. We sat through the day under tree shades to discuss with them their world view and took copious notes interviewing many women comrades and even the little children while they devoted a couple of hours of the morning to do some reading and writing practice. There were doctors among them and engineers who trained the villagers in some fundamentals of medicine and even engineering to help them in their day to day activity. For instance the antidotes for snake bites, common occurrence in those parts specially during the rainy season or digging canals for irrigation purposes or building bridges to cross little rivulets.
By afternoon nearby villagers came with some news as well as some brown rice and some local weeds and some little fish all of which was cooked into a broth which we all ate along with some mango chutney, by plucking mangoes from the surrounding mango trees. By evening as it started becoming a little cool the programme of revolutionary singing and theatre started. But by dusk most of them packed and started leaving bidding us goodbye. The Punjabi gentleman, the French lady and Petronobis accompanied this party to go deeper into the jungle to witness their encounter with the Police from close quarters. I, on account of my physical handicap was advised against it and so we (me, Nagraju and Shravan Kumar) were left with a handful of comrades who were to escort us safely out of the forest while maintaining a strict vigil against any police activity. These guys led us in total pitch dark into even thicker forest. This night was even more scary for on we were too few now. Besides we were scared of jungle beasts attacking us. But the comrades seemed to have good idea of the place for like the previous night they spread out the polythene sheets and within minutes were fast asleep.
Next morning the forest was even more beautiful and enchanting. We repeated the previous day’s exercise found a well where we had our bath and waited the whole day to move out but we received no signal and the evening descended into night without any movement. The same routine. By the fourth day I had started feeling exhausted and a little exasperated yearning for my urban comforts. Finally later afternoon we got the signal to move and after walking for a couple of hours reached somewhere close to a pucca Road and then ferried from there in a jeep to Raipur. We reached our hotel much after midnight.
The next day we travelled by train with great difficulty unreserved upto Bhopal and from there by Shatabdi Express back to Delhi. Upon reaching the office the next day I was immediately asked by my colleagues how come I was missing from the office for over a week because A T Jayanti had been making enquiries about my absence. It didn’t matter that I had not only informed my immediate boss Seema Mustafa but sought prior permission from her much in advance and told her the sensitive nature of my trip and how till my return I had to keep the whole journey under wraps.
I dare not raise the issue of my expenses with the Editors which were over Rs 10,000 and with a pittance of a salary from the Deccan Chronicle in the range of Rs 20,000 that was a huge expense for me. But I did raise the issue with the manager who refused to entertain my bills saying the Editors were furious and agitated over my prolonged absence from office.
I did a three part serial, simply recounting what I saw in those three days. Not only the stories were not carried but Akbar circulated a diktat on the mail not to carry a word of what I wrote about this trip. Imagine if the Indian Express proprieters had behaved similarly with Ashwani Sareen could he have undertaken the journey to Morena district in Madhya Pradesh to buy Kamla and leave a mark in Indian journalism?
I realised much later Akbar and the proprieter Venkatarama Reddy and therefore A T Jayanti’s ire at my initiative. Some time back the Maoists had attacked a convoy of Andhra Pradesh chief minister N Chandrababu Naidu and the DC/Asian Age had long before that hitched their bandwagon to Babu and therefore anything written to show what was actually going around in those jungles would have diluted their one sided campaign against the Maoists. So instead of appreciating my initiative they actually penalized me for going into the forests and writing first hand reports of what I saw.
Incidentally the French journalist wrote long pieces for her publication and won huge appreciation for her work. She invited us over one evening to dinner where she was thrilled at having a first hand experience of a few days with the Maoists.
I have narrated this in such great detail only to show how shallow and hollow the claims of free press in India are and how heart-breaking demoralizing it is for reporters to take an initiative and write or research some thing different.
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