Sannu was walking, taking each step with a broad smile. He just started to learn how to walk. Maybe because he slept all day and woke up after drinking milk to his heart’s content from his mother, his face looked even more peaceful and happy than ever. In the evening sunlight, his dusky body was glowing. He extended one hand forward as if trying to hold onto something, taking each step with determination. To him, every step felt like a great victory. His eyes were shining with the pride of that victory. Looking at him, can anyone not feel a surge of affection?
Boklu, sitting on the cot in their yard, extended his hands upon seeing Sannu coming towards him. Seeing Boklu extend his hands, Sannu started walking faster, with a bubbly laughter. Boklu couldn’t remain seated until Sannu reached him. He kept his hands extended and got up from the cot, took two steps out of the yard. In another moment, he would have lifted that little one with both hands, kissed his cheeks, and hugged him tightly! But just then, Sannu’s mother, Gulari, rushed in and lifted Sannu, and turned towards Boklu angrily saying, “Never touch him with your filthy hands,” and hurried back to their house with quick steps.
Perhaps because his freedom was snatched away and he was forcibly picked up, Sannu started crying. Boklu was aghast and his face darkened. Boklu’s wife, Kanni, who had just come to the porch from their house beside the yard, and Boklu’s mother, Adime, who was sitting on another cot in the yard, saw this scene.
“This Gulari is always like this. Just seeing him makes her eyes burn with anger,” said Kanni angrily.
“Shh! be quiet. If that woman hears, there will be more fights,” said Adime.
“How long should we stay silent out of fear of fights? Should we tolerate anything she does?” Kanni’s voice was a mix of anger and sorrow.
“We should stay silent. We must suffer the consequences of our wrongdoings. We should be grateful that they let us stay in the village at least like this,” said Adime.
Kanni’s anger started to subside. “He admitted his mistake. In such a big Panchayat (village general body meeting), they decided to forgive him and accept him as one of them as before. Even the party people are treating him well,” she said.
“It is true that they said everybody has to accept him… but can everyone forget everything and accept as soon as it’s said? Poor child, how much she had suffered.”
Boklu again laid back on the cot and closed his eyes. The words of his wife and mother were reaching his ears. Seeing him like that, the hearts of both women ached with sorrow.
“Don’t feel bad, my son. We have to endure all this for a few days. As time passes, everyone will forget,” his mother consoled him.
Kanni moved from there and got involved in the household chores. The harsh words Gulari spoke at the Panchayat a month ago still echoed in her ears.
***
“What!! Should we allow these people to live? It is they who brought the Judum goons with them here. Without them, the Judum people couldn’t have caused so much harm to our village,” Pozzal seethed with anger.
“It’s true, but now they are admitting their mistake…” Adamaal, the president of the Janatana Sarkar, started to say something more.
But Gulari interrupted him before he could finish his words. “What do you mean? After doing all that, is admitting their mistake now enough? Should we let them live? It is not a sin even if we tear them to pieces…” her face turned red with rage.
“Yes, they shouldn’t be allowed to live, they must be killed,” Kamli said.
“Yes, they must be killed!” echoed the voices of many people. Everybody was seething with anger.
This is Pottem village in the Bhairamgad region of Dandakaranya. There are about 150 houses in that village. Along with the villagers of that village, around five to six hundred people from four other villages under the Janatana Sarkar had gathered near the mango trees on the right side of the village. It was the first week of August, so the sky was overcast. Everyone had come to the Panchayat after finishing their lunch in the afternoon.
Jaini, who was the in-charge of the judicial department of the Janatana Sarkar, was conducting the Panchayat.
The people were sitting in a semicircle. Some were sitting on small stones or wooden logs. Others had placed their shoes on the ground and sat on them. Some were standing. Boklu and Mangal were sitting in front of them with their heads bowed. To their right were Adamaal and some other members of the Janatana Sarkar, along with members of the guerrilla squad. To the left were Boklu and Mangal’s family members. Jaini was standing.
“It’s true that they have committed grave mistakes. But they didn’t commit these mistakes on their own. The government brought the Judum as part of a scheme. The Judum leaders and police officers made them commit these mistakes,” Adamaal began to explain further when Somal interrupted angrily, “What happened to their sense then? Why did they join the Judum in the first place? They went against our word then, how dare they show their faces to us now?”
“Many joined the Judum out of ignorance or fear. Now they realize their mistake and are coming back. We should forgive those who realize their mistake,” said another Janatana Sarkar member, Jugru.
“What ignorance? Didn’t all of you from the committee tell them in a meeting back then?” retorted Gulari.
“Even though we told them, what was the situation like then? The enemy also did a large-scale propaganda. Many believed that propaganda,” explained Jugru.
“They did not just join the Judum but they chose to become SPOs. How many times did they raid our village? How many houses did they burn? How many crops did they destroy? How many did they kill? How many women did they rape?” Somvari’s anger was relentless.
“They took the lives of five people from our village. They raped five women,” Idime added.
As Idime said those words, a mix of anger and sorrow overcame Gulari, Kamli, and Aithe. All three of them were victims of rape. Two other young women had left the village and were staying with relatives in remote villages to escape the nightmare.
“The Salwa Judum attacks caused a lot of damage to our village. But we know that these two did not personally kill or rape anyone,” said Adamaal.
“They may not have done it personally. But it was the mob they brought that did all that,” Somvari said.
Jaini moved back and forth listening to the people’s arguments and observing their expressions. She too felt strongly that the guilty should not be let go. She wanted to join those who were arguing and express her own opinions. But as the one responsible for the judicial department, she knew this was not the platform for her personal arguments, so she forcibly restrained herself.
Since the people were not agreeing despite the committee members’ efforts, the commander of the squad, Mangtu, stood up. He began to speak in a lecturing tone.
“Comrades! Listen to what I have to say and think it over. When Salwa Judum began, there was extreme fear and anxiety among the people. The propaganda they carried out claiming that they would completely wipe out the Naxalites here, and if not today, then tomorrow, everyone would have to join the (rehabilitation) camps increased this fear. Despite this propaganda, many people stood courageously. They believed there was no life for them if they left this land. So, they decided to stay here, come what may. But some were scared. Some were confused. They thought they would die unnecessarily if they stayed here. They believed the party would either be wiped out or retreat from here. So, they joined the Judum.
Once they joined the Judum, they had no freedom. If they were told to join the SPOs, they had to join the SPOs. If they were told to join the goons, they had to join the goons. Some might have joined willingly, but some were forced to join reluctantly. But the party did not get wiped out as they feared. Our resistance grew. Moreover, we called for those who joined the Judum to come back to their villages. Additionally, they couldn’t bear the atrocities in the camps. They became disgusted with the rotten life there. So, many began to think correctly and wanted to come back and live here under the protection of the PLGA. This is a good development. Even though they made a mistake initially, they are ready to make amends for it. This is an indication of the growing trust among the people on our party and our struggle. Should we then embrace such people or push them away? Would it not harm the movement if we push away those who want to join us? Would it not strengthen the Judum?
However, we are not saying we should forgive those who joined the Judum and committed rampant murders and rapes or behaved cruelly. Boklu and Mangal joined the SPOs. It’s true! They worked for three months. They brought the Judum mob into our villages. During those times, the Judum mob committed murders and atrocities here. However, they did not commit these acts themselves. Even in the camps, they beat people but did not behave with extreme cruelty, nor did they commit murders or rapes as far as our reports indicate. They responded to our call and returned. Moreover, though they joined the Judum, their families remained here with us. Even when they had worked in the mass organisations, their behaviour was good. No one holds any grudges against them. They acknowledge their mistakes. Therefore, both the party and the Janatana Sarkar believe it is good to forgive and release them. Consider this: if we kill those who responded to our call and came back, will anyone else be willing to leave the camps? Think carefully keeping our opinion in mind and let us know your decision.”
Mangtu concluded carefully observing everyone.
Mangtu’s words made sense to some, replacing their anger with thoughtfulness. However, others could not agree, including Gulari.
“Mangtu Dada, of course, you will speak like this. They did nothing to you. It is us that they beat, killed, and assaulted,” she said, her voice a mix of bitterness, anger, and sorrow.
Mangtu looked at her as if wounded and he couldn’t say anything in response to her.
“Don’t speak so unfairly, Gulari. Isn’t our pain also the party’s pain? Why else does the party exist if not for us?” said Adamaal.
Gulari regretted her harsh words immediately, realizing how much her words would hurt Mangtu Dada. However, her determination to see Boklu and Mangal punished remained unchanged. How could she forget that two months ago, the Judum mob brought by Boklu and Mangal had snatched her infant from her arms and assaulted her? The memory of her baby’s helpless cries and her own struggle was still a fresh wound.
“Even if they joined as SPOs, it would have been fine if they had behaved normally. But they were close to that cruel and wicked Karre Ungal. If they were so friendly with him, who knows how many evil deeds they have done?” said Gangal.
The mention of Karre Ungal’s name was like salt on a wound for Gulari and many others. His bestial behaviour and the way he incited others to do the same filled Gulari with disgust once more.
Karre Ungal was a cruel landlord. But the movement weakened him considerably. A ruthless man, he had been waiting for an opportunity to strike back. Now, he had risen again with the Judum, living in the Relief camp in Jangla, four kilometres from Pottam. He actively participated in village raids and had earned a reputation as a notorious Salwa Judum leader.
“No matter what you say, Mangtu Dada, we’re not letting them stay,” Gulari’s voice was firm, and several others echoed her sentiments.
Jaini, who had feared that everyone might be swayed by Mangtu’s words, and suggest letting them go, felt relieved hearing the others. She couldn’t hide her happiness.
“Comrades, I understand your anger. It’s natural to feel this way after the suffering you’ve endured. But we mustn’t take this personally. We need to consider the party’s stance and take it forward. The party’s position is to kill Judum leaders and forgive common people who return from Judum camps, and also forgive SPOs who didn’t behave cruelly if they surrender voluntarily. Integrating them into our ranks and helping them grow politically is our party’s strategy. These people also worked as guides, set houses on fire, and beat people, but they didn’t kill or rape anyone. They were close to Karre Ungal, but they admitted that they only did it out of fear of being killed by him. If we kill them now, we would be acting against our party’s policy,” Mangtu explained.
“Who knows if they are truly changed or if Karre Ungal sent them here as part of some plan,” Kamli said sceptically.
“Maybe they are just pretending to surrender,” added Aithe.
“If they have any deceitful intentions, we can keep an eye on them. The committee, the militia, and the people will be observing their every move. We won’t give them complete freedom. We’ll set some conditions, like not leaving the village or talking to outsiders,” Mangtu continued.
“Yes, setting conditions is a good idea,” one person agreed, and others echoed, “Yes, yes.”
“Fine, they didn’t kill anyone, but they did beat people and set houses on fire. Shouldn’t there be some punishment for that?” one person asked, with others agreeing, “Yes, we can’t just let them go.”
Soon, the place became noisy and chaotic. Voices overlapped, making it hard to understand what anyone was saying.
Jaini remembered her responsibility. “Comrades, don’t make noise. Speak one at a time,” she shouted two or three times, and the chaos slowly subsided.
“If we don’t kill them, there should be some punishment,” one person said, and many others echoed, “Yes, there should be.”
Jaini noticed that Mangtu Dada’s words had a significant impact on the crowd. Those who were previously adamant about killing now seemed to be considering alternatives. Feeling a bit disheartened, she asked, “What punishment should we give them?”
“Let’s beat them and then let them go.”
“Yes, let’s beat them and let them go.”
But Gulari and her supporters insisted, “No, we must kill them.”
Jaini’s weariness disappeared, and the environment became chaotic again. She shouted a few times to restore order. Then she decided to move the panchayat forward. She stepped aside, called the other committee members, and whispered with them. Returning to face the crowd, she addressed them.
Boklu and Mangal sat with their heads bowed since the beginning of the panchayat, enveloped in a kind of apathy. Their family members looked pitiable, as if pleading silently for mercy. Boklu and Mangal themselves seemed resigned to their fate.
“Alright, comrades. Everyone has clearly understood the matter. You have heard all the arguments. Now, let’s take action based on the majority decision. Some say they should be killed, while others say they should be beaten and let go. So, those in favour of killing them, raise your hands,” Jaini said, looking around at the people.
Boklu and Mangal showed no emotion on their faces. Despite knowing that the raised hands would determine their life or death, they remained indifferent, as if resigned to their fate. Their family members, however, clearly showed fear on their faces, holding their breath in anticipation.
Numerous hands shot up in the air. Jaini began counting them. Boklu and Mangal still didn’t lift their heads, but their family members slowly looked up, their faces filled with anxiety, gazing at the raised hands. To them, these weren’t just hands; they looked like daggers poised to strike Boklu and Mangal’s necks.
After finishing the count, Jaini said, “Now, those who think they should be beaten and let go, raise your hands.” She felt uneasy, realizing that there were fewer hands for the death penalty.
All remaining hands were raised. Seeing more hands than before, the families of the accused breathed a sigh of relief. Reluctantly, Jaini counted these hands too.
“Now, those who think they should neither be beaten nor killed, raise your hands,” she said, feeling that no one was left to vote for this option.
No hands were raised.
Mechanically, Jaini walked towards her committee members. Mangtu, Adamaal, Jugru, and others joined them. They deliberated for a while. Then, on Jaini’s instructions, the militia members fetched two bamboo sticks and began beating Boklu and Mangal.
Jaini had delegated the task to the militia because Mangtu warned that allowing the people to beat them might result in their death. Mangtu had also instructed the militia members not to beat them excessively. He didn’t like the idea of beating them at all, believing it could foster resentment among them. However, he bowed to the people’s court decision, viewing it as a victory that the majority accepted the party’s stance of not killing them.
As the militia began beating them, some in the crowd couldn’t contain their anger. They rushed forward, grabbed the sticks, and started beating Boklu and Mangal themselves. Others brought more sticks and joined in, some using their fists and others kicking. A mob formed around the two men. Some of their family members circled the mob, pleading, “Please stop, they’ll die.” Others sat in resignation, accepting that this punishment was inevitable.
Jaini stood watching, forgetting Mangtu’s warnings. Adamaal, prompted by Mangtu, stepped in and stopped the beating.
***
With a heavy heart, Kanni finished cooking. As darkness fell, everyone ate their meals in the glow of the hearth.
Feeling dejected, Boklu, who was wiping his washed hands on a cloth draped over his shoulder, saw Mangal coming towards him as he walked into the front yard of the house.
“Why did you come after sunset?” he asked, sitting down on a cot.
Sitting down beside him, Mangal replied, “I came for no particular reason… If I want to come while there is light, I have to walk through the village from one end to the other. Along the way, I meet many people. No one greets me… They turn their faces away… Or they look at me with disdain… Some even start cursing… So, I’m afraid to come out in the streets during the day… I just go from my home to the fields, that’s all…”
“What can we do, the whole village looks at us like we’re outcasts. This is how our lives have turned out…” Boklu’s words were heavy with sorrow.
“Don’t worry unnecessarily, my boys. Bear it for a few more days, everything will settle down…” Adime said consolingly, lying down on a nearby cot after spreading an old cloth.
“Few more days! It’s already been a month since the village trial took place. Still, nothing has changed…” Boklu responded.
Three children, oblivious to the adult conversations, came and lay down on the cot, falling asleep quickly.
“That damned Ungal’s sweet words led us to join the Judum. Otherwise, we would have stayed in the village, enduring whatever came our way, good or bad, with everyone else…” Mangal said, his voice filled with regret.
“What’s the use of thinking about it now? I told you not to believe him when I found out he met you. I said we should stay with the villagers, whether it was life or death. Did you listen? You thought you could have a better life. And now look what happened…” Kanni said with frustration as she covered the children with a blanket.
For a moment, both remained silent, acknowledging her words.
“We foolishly listened to him. We didn’t plan to stay in the Judum forever. If we had, we would have asked you to come too. But once we surrendered and registered at the camp, Ungal assured us that Judum would not harm us even if we returned home. But after registering our names there, he kept us there, saying that if we returned, the Naxalites would kill us… After that, we followed his orders like puppets…” Mangal explained slowly.
These were not new things for Kanni. Her husband had told her these things many times. She stood silently for a while, and then walked into the house, carrying the small child who had fallen asleep on her shoulder. Soon, everyone had fallen asleep. Only Boklu and Mangal continued talking.
“Sometimes I feel it would have been better to stay there, good or bad. I can’t bear this outcast life anymore,” said Boklu.
“Come on, we made one mistake. Does that mean we have to stay on the wrong path forever?” Mangal replied.
“But how is everyone looking at us? Worse than worms…”
“That’s true…”
Even though it was past midnight, the two continued talking giving vent to their pain and suffering.
***
“If we had killed them then and there, it would have been better. Did you listen to us, no matter how much we pleaded?” Gulari’s face showed a mix of anger, frustration, and helplessness as she addressed Adamaal.
Adamaal, sitting on the cot, didn’t respond or even lift his head.
“They lied saying they had changed, and these people believed them naively…” Kumli said.
“They must have come with some plan, but we didn’t completely trust them, right? We kept an eye on them. That’s why they fled, realizing there was no point in staying…” Somal added.
“Who knows what atrocities they’ll commit now…”
“We opposed them strongly. We even argued vehemently that they should be killed… They might hold a grudge against us…” Kumli continued.
“We had let them go, when they had fallen into our hands. Will we get another chance like that?” Gulari said.
“I also felt it would have been better if we had killed them then. But what can we do, we listened to everyone and let them go…” Jaini said, unable to hold back.
About a hundred people gathered in front of that house, each voicing their opinions. Jugru arrived amidst this commotion, having learned of the situation while returning from work in the neighbouring village. Upon hearing that everyone was at Boklu’s house, he headed straight there. As he arrived, he collapsed onto the cot next to Adamaal, wiping the midday sweat with a towel, and asked, “When did they escape?” Though he already knew most of the details, he wanted to confirm everything.
“Ask them,” Adamaal replied, pointing towards Kanni and Adime, who were huddled under a tree in front of the house, shaking with fear.
“Didn’t you have any suspicion, Kanni?” Jugru asked, looking intently at her face.
She slowly lifted her head and glanced at Jugru for a moment before lowering it again. She was in no condition to speak, her heart weighed down by betrayal. She didn’t even want to show her face to anyone. Yet, she had to speak.
“After dinner last night, Mangal came. They both sat here on this cot, talking. My mother-in-law slept on that cot. The two children slept on this cot. I, with the little one, slept inside. After midnight, I woke up to attend to nature’s call and saw the cot outside was empty. I didn’t suspect anything…” She started crying, tears flowing freely. The pain of broken trust was evident on her face. Wiping her eyes and face with her saree, she regained her composure and continued, “I thought he might have gone to attend to nature’s call… I went back to sleep. In the morning, when I woke up, he was still not there. I asked my mother-in-law. She said she didn’t know. We wondered where he had gone. We thought he might come back, so we waited. When he didn’t return by the time we had gruel, I told my mother-in-law to go and tell Adamaal…”
She couldn’t continue, overwhelmed by emotions.
“I woke up a few times during the night and could hear them talking. But then, at some point, I didn’t hear any more voices. I thought he had gone inside to sleep… I didn’t think he would do something like this…” Adime’s words trailed off as grief overcame her.
The six and seven-year-old boys sitting beside their mother seemed to understand a little why so many people were gathered in front of their house, why their mother and grandmother were distressed. The little one, about a year and a half old, kept crying unsettled by the noisy atmosphere. Every time the baby cried, the grandmother would take her into her lap and try to soothe her. Until a few months ago, everyone used to dote on the little one, but now no one even touched her.
“Didn’t you notice anything? Were there any changes in him over the past few days?” Jugru asked.
“No, we didn’t notice anything unusual. He seemed fine,” Kanni replied.
“What were they talking about when Mangal came? Did you hear anything?” Jugru asked again.
“I heard them talking about how nobody in the village trusted them, but I didn’t hear the rest. Until yesterday, he didn’t seem to have any such thoughts,” Kanni said, lowering her head again.
Adime felt Mangal must have instigated her son. A faint trust in her son flickered in Adime’s heart.
“They must have realized nobody believed them and thought there was no point in staying here anymore,” Somvari added.
“If you know anything, don’t hide it. Tell us the truth,” Somal insisted.
A few others echoed, “Yes, tell us. How can you not know anything?”
“We don’t know any more than this. Please believe us,” Kanni cried. The sorrow she had been holding in burst forth. Adime started crying loudly as well. Seeing their mother and grandmother cry, the children clung to their mother and began to cry too.
“Calm down, sister. We believe you. Please calm down,” Gulari said, quickly putting down the child she was holding and sitting next to Kanni, pulling her close to comfort her. Gulari felt a pang of sympathy looking at Kanni’s distressed state. “What bad luck to be so ashamed in front of everyone for marrying him,” she thought. Kanni and Gulari had been good friends, but since Boklu joined the Judum, Gulari kept her distance from Kanni. After the panchayat, they hadn’t spoken to each other. Seeing Gulari comforting Kanni, a few others joined in, offering words of solace. Some tried to comfort the children.
However, some people still looked at them with distrust, thinking, “Do they really not know anything? How can that be?”
Gulari compared her pain with Kanni’s sorrow. Gulari had been a victim of assault, but her husband accepted her back into their home, and the villagers stood by her. She never had to bow her head in shame. But Kanni’s situation was different. Her husband, who was supposed to be her companion through thick and thin, had abandoned her, leaving her to bear the brunt of his actions. She had to bow her head for the crime he committed. Most difficult of all, some people still harboured distrust towards her. Gulari once thought she was the most unfortunate person when she faced that bitter incident, but compared to Kanni, she felt fortunate. Gulari wondered if Mangal’s wife was also crying like Kanni.
***
“Seriously, Uncle! Do you think we would lie to you?” Boklu said, addressing Karre Ungal, who was sitting on the bench in front of him. “We were just fed up with staying here and thought we’d to visit the village once. We missed seeing our kids. We didn’t intend to stay there, Uncle. If we had wanted to stay, why would we come back?” he added.
“Don’t you know everything about us, Uncle? Would we lie to you?” Mangal said.
For the past half hour, the three of them had been talking. By then, Ungal began to believe Boklu and Mangal’s words.
“Then you should have told me this before,” Ungal said.
“If we had told you, you wouldn’t have let us go. That’s why we left without saying anything,” Boklu replied.
“Alright, I believe you, but the police officer may not. You need to explain everything to him in detail – what you did there, who you met, everything,” Ungal said.
Both Boklu and Mangal nodded in agreement.
“And you won’t run away like this again, will you?”
“Uncle, even if we leave, no one in the village will believe us. It’s great that we were left alive in the village rather than being killed. We can live peacefully here instead of being afraid and begging everyone over there to spare our lives,” Mangal said.
“Then why didn’t you bring the children this time?” Ungal asked.
“The women wouldn’t listen, Uncle. They are afraid the Naxalites will kill them,” Mangal explained.
“We said we would marry someone here if you didn’t come, but they still didn’t listen, Uncle. Now we have to look after our own path,” Boklu added.
“I’ve told you to remarry here, but you fellows insisted that your wives would join you,” Ungal replied.
“We thought they would,” Boklu said.
“Alright, let’s go to the police station and talk to the officer. However, they might not immediately reinstate you as SPOs. Please don’t be upset. Stay in the camp here with everyone,” Ungal said, and got up after taking his muzzle loader.
***
“Here you go, Uncle, meat… try it out,” Mangal said, handing a small bundle of roasted meat wrapped in leaves to Ungal, who was sitting on a bench in front of the house. Boklu was also present behind Mangal, holding arrows and a bow, while Mangal had an axe and a sling.
They hunt birds and animals with bows and arrows. However, different arrows are used for birds. They use slings also to hit birds. When squirrels hide in tree holes, they even cut down the trees to catch them, so they also have axes with them while going for hunting.
“What kind of meat is this?” Ungal asked curiously.
“Bird meat,” Mangal replied.
Without waiting for a response, Ungal eagerly opened the bundle, took a piece of meat, and put it in his mouth. He chewed quickly and said, “It’s good,” taking another piece.
Adivasis generally are meat lovers, but Ungal’s obsession with it was extreme. To satisfy this craving, he used to spend much of his time in hunting while he was in his village. After coming to the camp, however, he is too busy in hunting humans, and could not find any time for hunting birds or animals. Even if he wanted to, venturing deep into the jungle alone was risky. The camp road is quite close, and many in the camp try their luck at hunting near the road. They rarely find anything. Since Ungal arrived at the camp, he has been regularly bringing back goats, pigs, chickens, ducks, etc., from raids on villages. Generally, not a day passes for him without tasting meat. But the taste of meat of fish or birds wrapped in leaves, and roasted over fire is unique. Ungal has been relishing that taste after a long time. After eating a couple of pieces, he took the remaining ones and went inside, eager to savour them along with liquor.
Boklu and Mangal departed.
From that day onwards, it became routine for Boklu and Mangal to bring Ungal meat, fish or bird meat wrapped and roasted in leaves. Ungal enjoyed these more than the meat cooked at home.
One day, receiving a bundle of leaves from Boklu, Ungal remarked, “You’re doing a great job hunting!”
“What’s left for us? How can we just sit idly without work? That’s why we keep roaming around,” Boklu replied.
“Yet you haven’t made us SPOs…” Mangal said in a complaining tone.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get you reinstated as SPOs by next month. No one here dares to go against my word,” Ungal assured, munching on a piece of meat.
Boklu and Mangal’s faces brightened. “We know, Uncle. No police officer here would dare defy your word. Our complaint is that you are lacking compassion for us,” they said. With a proud smile, Ungal took the remaining meat and went inside.
The next evening, Boklu and Mangal headed towards the canal. It had been nearly two months since they joined the camp.
“Where are you heading?” Ungal, who encountered them, asked.
“We’re going to catch some crabs,” Boklu and Mangal told Ungal.
“They’re easier to find at night,” Ungal remarked.
“It’s okay even now,” replied Boklu.
After a moment’s thought, Ungal said, “Alright, I’ll come along today.”
“Why, Uncle, are you in the mood to catch crabs?” Boklu asked with a laugh.
“Of course! It’s been days since I went after them…” Ungal replied.
“Okay, let’s go then. We’ll find plenty today. Tell your wife to make some good stew,” Mangal added.
The three of them laughed and set off towards the canal.
As they approached the canal, Mangal and Boklu set their bows, arrows, and axe against a large tree and started lifting rocks to catch insects. Ungal, having come along for fun, was only watching them catch crabs. He himself didn’t participate in the hunting.
Meanwhile, Mangal lifted a large rock slightly, bent down on his knees, and reached underneath to find crabs. After a few seconds, he called out, “Hey Boklu, lift this rock a bit more… there’s a big crab underneath!” The joy of finding a large crab was evident on his face. Boklu tried to lift the rock with both hands but couldn’t get a good grip.
“Lift it a bit more. My hands need to get underneath,” Mangal instructed.
“This rock is too big, and I can’t get a good grip. Uncle, come here and help out,” Boklu shouted.
Ungal slid his muzzle loader against a rock and, bending down, placed both hands under the rock.
“Hold it further lower uncle, I’ll hold it from the top,” Boklu directed.
Ungal bent his head slightly and let his hands go under the rock.
Boklu slowly released his grip on the rock.
***
The villagers, except for the children and the elderly, had almost all gathered near the mango trees on the right side of the village early in the morning. The sun had risen not long ago. Since it was November, it was still quite cold. But no one there was bothered by the cold. They were chatting and laughing. Everyone was there to harvest the collective’s crops. Amidst the devastation of Judum, they had risked their lives to protect their fields and were now looking at them with satisfaction. Bheemaal and others from the Development Committee were dividing the gathered people into groups. Soon, everyone would step into the nearby crop fields.
In the meantime, someone said, “The militia is coming…”
“It looks like they are bringing someone…” said another.
“Hey, it’s Boklu and Mangal…”
For a few moments, no one could speak. Then a small commotion began.
“They caught the thieves!” shouted Somaal.
“They can’t escape now!” said Bheemaal.
Adamaal stepped forward from the group. The militia brought Boklu and Mangal in front of Adamaal.
“Where did you catch them?” asked Adamaal.
“We caught them coming into the village…”
For a moment, Adamaal didn’t know what to say. Many thoughts were swirling in his mind. Anger surged within him. He remembered how, on that day in the Panchayat, everyone wanted to kill them, but he had convinced everyone to let them go, which later made them bow their heads in shame in front of the people.
Before Adamaal could speak, everyone there started talking at once.
Kanni was also in the group. Her legs trembled when she saw her husband. Her heart pounded. Unable to stand, she moved a little to the side and collapsed.
Mangal’s wife should have been there too, but she had gone to the neighbouring village the day before.
The anger in the crowd was escalating with each passing moment. No matter how many words were said, it didn’t satisfy them. They were ready to act with their hands.
A couple of blows had already landed on their bodies.
“Wait, wait… let me talk a bit first…” Adamaal intervened.
“What’s there to talk about? Just kill them and be done with it!” said Kumli.
“Yes! Just kill them, what’s the use of talking?” many shouted in unison.
“Hey! Will you calm down for a moment?” Jugru shouted loudly.
“Calm down? You’ll talk to them, they’ll tell some stories, and you’ll believe them…” said Gulari, her voice trembling with anger, contempt, and sarcasm.
“Exactly! If you talk to them, what else will they do but tell stories?” Aithe’s face turned red with anger.
Kanni’s mind was in turmoil. Will they kill them? Will they kill them right in front of her eyes? How can she beg them not to kill him? Her whole body was trembling.
Some people were looking at Kanni curiously. Gulari glanced at Kanni and quickly turned her face away. She couldn’t bear to see her in such a miserable state. In the past two months, the friendship between Gulari and Kanni had strengthened more than ever. Gulari had supported Kanni in every possible way. After the first Panchayat, Kanni used to feel angry with Gulari sometimes, as she realised that Gulari was loathing her husband when he was at home for one month. But recently, Kanni had come to understand Gulari’s friendly heart even more deeply.
“Everyone is listening to what the people are saying, right? Tell us what should be done with you…” said Adamaal.
“Please listen to what we have to say, and then do whatever you want…” pleaded Boklu.
“Look, now they’ll start telling stories…” Kumli said to Gulari.
Gulari nodded in agreement, but her eyes remained fixed on the two men.
“We did go, but we didn’t work as SPOs…” Boklu started to say hesitantly.
“If they didn’t work as SPOs, then does that mean they didn’t want to? They just weren’t given the SPO job!” Somaal said loudly.
“If they didn’t become SPOs, so what? Do they think we don’t know they roamed around closely with that Ungal?”
“Go on then,” said Adamaal, signalling everyone to be silent.
“We were unnecessarily afraid and listened to Karre Ungal. We made a big mistake. But, realizing that mistake, we ran away from there. Though we were spared, no one believed us. We were ostracized. So, we thought about what to do to make you all trust us…” Boklu paused.
“To make everyone believe you, you should run away again…” Kumli’s sarcasm made a few people laugh.
“Not just run away, but roam around with Karre Ungal, cooking meat for him…” added Aithe.
After saying those words, Boklu looked at Mangal. Mangal, interpreting his gaze, took the bag from his shoulder with his left hand and reached inside it with his right hand, pulling something out.
That was it! Everyone who was about to speak or curse became dumbstruck. Their eyes widened. Everyone forgot to breathe.
Mangal held a head! A human head!!
He placed it on a nearby rock.
“Karre Ungal’s head…” someone said.
“It’s true… it’s true…” many shouted, unable to contain their joy.
“This is the man who distanced us from all of you… He’s the one who brought ruin to our village… That’s why we killed him. Believe us now…”
“How, how did you kill him…” Adamaal asked, patting both their shoulders with both hands at the same time. He was unable to contain his happiness. The PLGA had made many attempts to kill that man but had failed.
“He came with us to hunt. We had been waiting for the opportunity for two months. We told him to hold a stone, and as soon as he did, we took an axe and struck his head off with one blow…”
Hearing the news, the elderly, men, women, and children from the village came rushing and shouting loudly.
“Stop it now,” Adamaal said loudly two or three times, and the crowd fell silent.
After some debate on what to do with the head, Jaini suggested, “It should be thrown onto the road.”
***
A week later, Adamaal, Jaini, and Jugru met with Commander Mangtu, who was stationed in a neighboring village, and told him how Boklu and Mangal had killed Karre Ungal.
Mangtu noticed the excitement, rage, and anger in their voices. Everyone expected Mangtu to be happy and praise them for their good work.
However, Mangtu looked somewhat saddened. He lifted his head and looked at everyone’s faces.
“So, what did you do with the head?” he asked sadly.
“Our people took it and threw it on the road. The police took it away,” said Jaini.
“That has become a big problem. Our enemies are using it to portray our mass organizations, Janatana Sarkar, and the party as monsters in every way possible,” Mangtu said.
“Didn’t he commit numerous atrocities? He wreaked havoc in our village, didn’t he? Moreover, our militia had decided to kill him!” Jaini replied.
At that moment, tea for the four of them arrived from the kitchen.
“Comrades! Our Janatana Sarkar was formed to create a world without violence. It works for higher values. The old method of ‘an eye for an eye’ is outdated. We are people who understand history and dialectical methods. We are communists. Did we take care of Boklu and Mangal after punishing them? The villagers ostracized them. What should our Janatana Sarkar do? After punishment, we should have given them an opportunity to reform through our work. What work did we give them? To remove the hostility among the people, we should have included them in our collective farming and militia, monitored their behaviour, and helped them correct themselves. Did we do anything for that?” Mangtu paused and finished his tea.
“No, Dada, we didn’t think that way,” Adamaal admitted.
“They became isolated…and had no choice but to go to Karre Ungal. Isn’t that so? They decided to prove their honesty by killing Ungal… What if Ungal had killed them? Janatana Sarkar needs to include more people, strengthen itself. Instead of individual decisions, we have an organisational structure. Any task should be discussed, decided, and executed through the initiative of the Sarkar. We need to improve our working methods, focusing on collective decisions rather than individual impulses,” said Mangtu.
“The burden of that tyrant has been lifted, hasn’t it?” Jaini interjected.
“Yes but Boklu and Mangal should have done this along with the people’s militia, and it should have been a collective decision. Displaying heads is not our method… We don’t act out of anger or rage. We act to stop the violence inflicted on us, and that too, only when necessary and with minimal risk. Violence is not our nature. We are as pure as the forest. We are building a new world with Janatana Sarkar. Displaying heads is not our way. We need to explain this difference to the people and our members. I urge all our Janatana Sarkars to discuss crime and punishment more comprehensively with their respective authorities and to act more responsibly in the future,” Mangtu concluded.
The three of them took their leave and started their journey back to their village.
They had expected Mangtu to praise them. “Talking like this” didn’t make sense to them initially. They discussed it all the way back.
Jaini thought to herself, “We should request a meeting for all the persons in the justice department of the division to discuss such matters.”
Adamaal wondered, “What tasks should we assign to Boklu and Mangal?”
Jugru seemed lost in thought, not fully understanding everything.
(Translation of “Siksha”. [Initially published in Arunatara, January-February 2012] From the collection of “Viyyukka”) – Translated by N Ravi.
