School boy during the day
http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/op-ed/schoolboy-during-the-day/article17817373.ece
A
revealing conversation in Jharkhand’s Porahat forest
Schoolboy during the day
DEEPU SEBASTIAN EDMUMD
A
revealing conversation in Jharkhand’s Porahat forest
We were lost in Porahat forest. Even the
two CPI (Maoist) sympathisers riding the two bikes on which a photojournalist
and I were seated were not sure of the direction of the village in which the
People’s Liberation Guerilla Army’s squad was camped.
The message we received in Ranchi, 130
km away, was that a Maoist commander wanted to meet us. By November 2014,
Porahat remained one of the last strongholds of the CPI (Maoist) in Jharkhand,
and all those within it were high-value targets for security forces.
Aware that winter would end the day
early, we stopped the few people we encountered on the way for directions. At
one point, mostly to make fun of them, we asked a group of children who were on
their way back from school if they knew of any Maoists in the locality. Some of
them pointed in the vague direction in which we were already heading.
When we finally made it to the village,
Platoon Commander Jeevan Kandulna was waiting for us. He took his time opening
up, reluctant to even part with his name for the first hour, but when he did,
it felt like he had been waiting for someone to listen to him. The conversation
became more personal than tactical; instead of troop movements, we began
talking about how the murder of one of his sisters by a Maoist splinter group
made him join the CPI (Maoists) to exact revenge.
At some point, a second platoon joined
us. It had a large number of young boys. Mr. Kandulna explained that they had a
recent recruitment drive, which is essentially a conscription for nearby
villages. A short, dark figure walked up and sat quietly on the floor behind
Mr. Kandulna. During a lull in the conversation, he introduced himself as
Platoon Commander Suresh, but I had recognised him already as Dimba Pahan, the
brother of Jharkhand’s most famous Maoist, Kundan Pahan. I was not supposed to
identify Mr. Dimba Pahan; I had seen his photographs among a set
surreptitiously clicked by a source. Curiosity about Mr. Kundan Pahan’s
whereabouts got the better of me eventually and I mentioned him tangentially.
Mr. Dimba Pahan did not speak again.
When the meeting ended, the youngsters
lined up with their guns to pose for pictures against the setting sun, so that
they could only be captured as silhouettes. One boy of about eight walked up to
me, lugging his .303 rifle. “Do you know the way back?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so. Why?”
“It’s just that you asked for directions
to some of us on our way back from school,” he said.
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