NOTE:This fictitious story is all about how the Naxals have lost their way from a just cause to mere blood spill. Nevertheless all facts are true to the best of my knowledge.
He was on his usual evening stroll beneath the dusky cloudless, unlimited sky trying to organize the bits and pieces of what memories had remained in his ageing grey cells, of his journey, the journey of a simple 17 year old school-boy in his Intermediate who later went on to become the undisputed leader of the foremost armed struggle which Independent India would ever see. A journey of how he tried to incorporate Marx and Lenin in his endeavors.
He still remembers the hustle and bustle of Calcutta where he had come from the remotest corner of West Bengal to pursue his education. Beating all the odds, he got admission in a reputed college and chose arts as his stream. Being hugely interested in History he used to lay his hands on almost everything of any historical importance. He studied and observed, observed the discrepancies in India’s Political system. He read the history of America, USSR, Germany, France, Italy, England, India and many more to find his answers which had engrossed him since his childhood days. He could not stand the inequality and subjugation against the poor class. His young mind and blood told him to revolt, organize an upheaval against the riches. Just when he was fed up with the oppression and injustice prevailing in independent India, he came across “Das Kapital” written by Karl Marx which brought about a radical change in his thought process. He sometimes still gets bemused how that piece of paper had captured his each & every imagination.
Anirban da!…somebody called from behind interfering in the train of thoughts he was set on. Yes, he was Anirban Majumdar, the name topping the wanted list of every police station in 220 districts of over 22 states of India. Being a Naxal Supremo that he was, outwardly, inwardly he had become a repenting old man unsure of his deeds. Paying no heed to the person calling, he set on to his journey- a journey to the lanes of memories.
Back in 1967, when he was a student at Calcutta, he used to visit his village . On one such visit when he reached his village, he saw things had undergone quite a radical change. Some people had taken up armed struggle to redistribute land to the poor who had ploughed the lands of Zamindars for centuries. Although, he wasn’t sure of the methods, one thing impressed him quite a bit, “motive”.
He set out to help these people in their struggle and became the right hand of Charu Mazumdar and became an active member of this revolution which had started in NAXALBARI. He decided to devote his whole life to the emancipation of the poor and the downtrodden, whatever be the methods, he knew that his motive was that of truth. After the death of his Guru, he took over the commands of the Naxal movement. Under his aegis the Naxalites were empowered with a more fearless approach. They took on the government openly and fiercely and got success. Terhey concentrated themselves and controlled an area of 92000 kms also called the “RED CORRIDOR”. 20,000 armed and nearly 50,000 regular cadres were inducted; Methods and weapons of advanced erwarfare were procured with the help of neighboring communist portwers. He himself had undertaken the trip to almost all states of India, organized underground meetings and urged the unemployed, both literate and illiterate, to join the Red Army. He used to see himself as the mobilizer of youth.
But, now after more than 40 years of the incitation of this struggle, he was in the middle of nowhere. An intellectual void had engulfed him which left him gasping. He had committed a mistake which almost all leaders and revolutionaries had made in their lives, that of too much faith. He had shown an unflinching faith on his commanders & cadres who, it seemed, had failed him. They had failed in the realization of the salient truth behind this revolution and seemed to be indulging themselves in a showcase of power in everything against the government. The cadres no longer were driven by the spirit of emaearncipation but by greed and lust. He, at the age of 60, no longer had thinhgs under his controls. There was blood spill everywhere, innocent people were killed and there was no ideology or code. There were no demands, just a penchant for killing. This hurt the ageing Anirban da. This was not what his mentors had dreamt of. His cadres had been lost, entangled in the ideals propagated by the armed Communist movement itself. There was no one to guide them and nobody was ready to be guided. The mission he had devoted his whole life to now headed to nowhere.
He was really disturbed at the turn of events. He could not take it anymore. So he stopped abruptly and returned to his cottage on the outskirts of his village. There he took out today’s Newspaper reread the lines which he had by now read a zillion times: “gyaneshwari express derailed; hit by goods train; hundreds feared dead “
Taking a bath, hoping to wash away all the sins he had accumulated in these 43 years, he walked to his book shelf and took out Das Kapital. He still hoped to find out his answers in the pen of Karl Heinrich Marx before his dusk knocked the gate.
-AMBIKESH KUMAR JHA
He still remembers the hustle and bustle of Calcutta where he had come from the remotest corner of West Bengal to pursue his education. Beating all the odds, he got admission in a reputed college and chose arts as his stream. Being hugely interested in History he used to lay his hands on almost everything of any historical importance. He studied and observed, observed the discrepancies in India’s Political system. He read the history of America, USSR, Germany, France, Italy, England, India and many more to find his answers which had engrossed him since his childhood days. He could not stand the inequality and subjugation against the poor class. His young mind and blood told him to revolt, organize an upheaval against the riches. Just when he was fed up with the oppression and injustice prevailing in independent India, he came across “Das Kapital” written by Karl Marx which brought about a radical change in his thought process. He sometimes still gets bemused how that piece of paper had captured his each & every imagination.
Anirban da!…somebody called from behind interfering in the train of thoughts he was set on. Yes, he was Anirban Majumdar, the name topping the wanted list of every police station in 220 districts of over 22 states of India. Being a Naxal Supremo that he was, outwardly, inwardly he had become a repenting old man unsure of his deeds. Paying no heed to the person calling, he set on to his journey- a journey to the lanes of memories.
Back in 1967, when he was a student at Calcutta, he used to visit his village . On one such visit when he reached his village, he saw things had undergone quite a radical change. Some people had taken up armed struggle to redistribute land to the poor who had ploughed the lands of Zamindars for centuries. Although, he wasn’t sure of the methods, one thing impressed him quite a bit, “motive”.
But, now after more than 40 years of the incitation of this struggle, he was in the middle of nowhere. An intellectual void had engulfed him which left him gasping. He had committed a mistake which almost all leaders and revolutionaries had made in their lives, that of too much faith. He had shown an unflinching faith on his commanders & cadres who, it seemed, had failed him. They had failed in the realization of the salient truth behind this revolution and seemed to be indulging themselves in a showcase of power in everything against the government. The cadres no longer were driven by the spirit of emaearncipation but by greed and lust. He, at the age of 60, no longer had thinhgs under his controls. There was blood spill everywhere, innocent people were killed and there was no ideology or code. There were no demands, just a penchant for killing. This hurt the ageing Anirban da. This was not what his mentors had dreamt of. His cadres had been lost, entangled in the ideals propagated by the armed Communist movement itself. There was no one to guide them and nobody was ready to be guided. The mission he had devoted his whole life to now headed to nowhere.
He was really disturbed at the turn of events. He could not take it anymore. So he stopped abruptly and returned to his cottage on the outskirts of his village. There he took out today’s Newspaper reread the lines which he had by now read a zillion times: “gyaneshwari express derailed; hit by goods train; hundreds feared dead “
-AMBIKESH KUMAR JHA
iop[o
ReplyDeletegood1...thank you..
ReplyDelete