As the joint security forces prepare to launch the second phase of their Lalgarh operation, Pathikrit Payne takes stock of the grim reality on the ground
Swapan Pal was cycling back home when he was stopped by some
masked men, who told him not to proceed ahead. Close by a local CPM leader’s house had been set ablaze. But Swapan Pal was released after the “operation”. Had the goons known that he was from the CPM it is almost certain that it would have been his last evening.
Near Lalgarh a girl who took part in a students’ protest organised by the People’s Committee Against Police Atrocities (PCPA) was nursing a broken hand. She had been among those who tried to raid a police camp that had been set up inside a school when the cops mounted the brutal lathi-charge. Her father wanted to take her to Midnapore town for treatment, but was stopped by PCPA leaders who wanted her – broken hand and all – to be showcased at a press conference.
Welcome then to the shocking realities of Lalgarh – the “red bastion” where the Maoists’ writ runs like nowhere else.
It was the fourth day of the Maoist-imposed bandh, and tensions were running high because four hardcore Maoists had been arrested that very day. The journey from Midnapore town to Lalgarh reminded one of Mulaitivu town, which was the last LTTE bastion to fall. Though the 35 km-stretch flanked by forests – the scene of anti-Maoist operations since June 18 – has been cleared, and the roads repaired, we found it nearly deserted. And the few stragglers visible looked more like ‘dead men walking’.
From behind the gates of the Lalgarh police station, locked from inside, the sentry armed with a 7.62 mm SLR told us that an ambush could happen any time. Across the road new barracks were being erected, and personnel of the State Armed Police were trying to prepare a meal out of the limited rations available, thanks to the bandh. They included several policewomen who, despite the mounting tension, still had smiles on their faces. A young well-built constable – an INSAS swinging from his shoulder – said he and his colleagues had been trying to make the best of a bad situation by staying cheerful.
At a distance some young and middle aged men were playing cards and drinking country liquor in front of closed shops. When approached, one of them said, “We are businessmen, and quite helpless. The bandh has entered its fourth day, and yet none ever dares to even say a word against the reds. The consequences are known to all.” A local journalist said the Maoists had been active in the area for years. It had remained their base right since the day the JOB (Jharkhand Orissa Bengal) committee was formed to concentrate on these three states.
Swapan Pal was cycling back home when he was stopped by some
masked men, who told him not to proceed ahead. Close by a local CPM leader’s house had been set ablaze. But Swapan Pal was released after the “operation”. Had the goons known that he was from the CPM it is almost certain that it would have been his last evening.Near Lalgarh a girl who took part in a students’ protest organised by the People’s Committee Against Police Atrocities (PCPA) was nursing a broken hand. She had been among those who tried to raid a police camp that had been set up inside a school when the cops mounted the brutal lathi-charge. Her father wanted to take her to Midnapore town for treatment, but was stopped by PCPA leaders who wanted her – broken hand and all – to be showcased at a press conference.
Welcome then to the shocking realities of Lalgarh – the “red bastion” where the Maoists’ writ runs like nowhere else.
It was the fourth day of the Maoist-imposed bandh, and tensions were running high because four hardcore Maoists had been arrested that very day. The journey from Midnapore town to Lalgarh reminded one of Mulaitivu town, which was the last LTTE bastion to fall. Though the 35 km-stretch flanked by forests – the scene of anti-Maoist operations since June 18 – has been cleared, and the roads repaired, we found it nearly deserted. And the few stragglers visible looked more like ‘dead men walking’.
From behind the gates of the Lalgarh police station, locked from inside, the sentry armed with a 7.62 mm SLR told us that an ambush could happen any time. Across the road new barracks were being erected, and personnel of the State Armed Police were trying to prepare a meal out of the limited rations available, thanks to the bandh. They included several policewomen who, despite the mounting tension, still had smiles on their faces. A young well-built constable – an INSAS swinging from his shoulder – said he and his colleagues had been trying to make the best of a bad situation by staying cheerful.
At a distance some young and middle aged men were playing cards and drinking country liquor in front of closed shops. When approached, one of them said, “We are businessmen, and quite helpless. The bandh has entered its fourth day, and yet none ever dares to even say a word against the reds. The consequences are known to all.” A local journalist said the Maoists had been active in the area for years. It had remained their base right since the day the JOB (Jharkhand Orissa Bengal) committee was formed to concentrate on these three states.
Source : IIPM Editorial, 2008
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