Monday, April 1, 2013

A gust of wind.

"Sitaram, sitaram, sitaram jaya sitaram... chiththi aayi na pathri aayi... aaya na telegram re.." hummed Post Master Sitaram Rath Sharma, as he bicycled his way to the small shack people called the village post office in Banardal, a small village in the Kandhamal district of rural Odisha.

This song from Shyam Benegal's "Welcome to Sajjanpur" was one of his favorites  as he identifies with protagonist in the movie, who also happens to be a post master named Mahadev. Sitaram had recently seen the movie when he had to go to the district head quarters at Phulabani to meet the new Head Post Master who arrived there. Little did he know that it had already  been two years since the movie released.

Life has been very kind to this only son of preist Ramchandra Rath Sharma, as government jobs without having a caste based reservation or without paying a hefty bribe are a rarity in today's India. He had joined the postal department soon after his father's death about  two years ago. His father was a staunch believer of Swami Lakshmananda Saraswathi's policies against forced religion conversions.

The Swami's assassination was national headlines, so were the communal riots that followed gaining the events a notoriety of "the Kandhamal Carnage of 2008". Ramchandra Rath Sharma remained as one of "four others" who were killed with the Swami.

Sitaram who followed a strict routine, stopped at the tea stall near the village chowk. "Saar, Aabka Koufi"(Sir, your coffee) said Rajan in his madrasi accent, placing a hot cup of filter coffee. Rajan was a srilankan tamil, who had come to Odisha as a refugee. Sitaram was one of his very few customers who preferred coffee over tea here, and anyone who likes filter coffee gains instant respect from Rajan, the reasons of which could be deeply rooted in his tamil genes.

Sitaram was the only person in the surrounding villages to have entered into college. Though the government claims an average literacy rate of 57% in this district, Sitaram yet had to meet one adult who could write and read properly in this small village with a population just above six hundred people. "Maybe, the government is embarassed by the true figures and is just trying to inflate the number of literates in this region " Sitaram usually thought while he read and wrote letters for the village folk.
He also knew that many people who were literate had shifted off to cities like Hyderabad in search of a better life after the riots.

The 28 year old Sitaram now took care of his 60 year old mom, who continually used to complain about his suspended decision on getting married. "Zindagi ek hawaa ka jhonkaa hai - Kabhi bhi kuch bhi ho saktaa hai (Life is like a gust of wind, it can change anytime). Get married before it is too late." But Sitaram wouldn't budge. He was certain that he wanted to get married only after he has saved enough money to build his own house. He was saving a good part of his salary in the post office, on his mother's name, as the government offers better interest rates for senior citizens. The small amounts of money he charged to read and write for the village folk too would go into his savings.

He had reached the post office when he noticed the telephone ringing. He picked up and said "Hollo!". "Hollo! It is me, Gururaj Mahant. Listen beta, I know you are not in a hurry to get married, but you should at least start some trials to for your mother's sake".
Sitaram was about to say something when Mahantji cut him short and said "Tomorrow, November 27th, is Kathika Bahula Shashti, the ruling constellation is Aaslesha nakshatra, a very auspicious day, so, head over to the village school teacher's house and see his daughter, Sita. I bet you will change your decison not to marry soon once you've met her. I have already spoken to your mother about this. Make sure you reach before 10:51 a.m. as that is when YamaGanda starts" and hung up.

Gururaj Mahant was one of his father's close friends and had been like a God father to him since his child hood. Sitaram could never refuse him, and that maybe the same reason why his mother had asked Mahantji to speak to him about this alliance. Sitaram did not believe in the superstitious concepts like Yamaganda but didn't want to offend Mahantji. YamaGanda referred to an inauspicious time of the day which was under the rule of Lord Yama, the Hindu mythological God of death. Most people never started anything during that part of the day.

Sitaram reached home early in the evening, read a couple of books on current affairs, and noted down points of importance in his notes. This had become his daily evening routine since he started preparing for Civil services examination six months ago. He could not sleep well that night, weird nightmares stealing the peace out of his sleep.

The next day he woke up early, and planned to open the post office at 8 am, finish off any urgent despatches and then go to see Sita, the village school teacher's daughter. He skipped his "Kaufi" and reached the post office, barely taking notice of an old jeep parked nearby and a few masked young men waiting in the bylanes.

As he was about to open the lock, he was grabbed from behind by a masked stranger who muffled his mouth with his palm. The cold steel from the tapancha (a country made revolver-like firearm) aimed at his neck quickly taught him to quit all movements and stay as still as he could. He knew better than to fight against a group of Naxalites.

"Aap Whorry na keejiye panditji. Aap ka kuch nahi hoga. Bas hamaar saath chup chaap chaliye." said the masked guy loosening his grip on Sitaram's mouth. (Do not worry Panditji. We will not harm you if you do not raise your voice and accompany us.)

The masked guys led him to their jeep and drove him into the forest, just a few minutes from his village. A strong bearded young man, with an automatic rifle on his arm, greeted him at a make shift Camp in the woods.

"I am sorry for interrupting your routine Sir" said the young man in fluent english, at which Sitaram was genuinely surprised.
The Young man smiled at Sitaram, and said "I am Radheya Moitra, an IIT Calcutta alumnus, and am currently leading my valiant comrades in our cause for Justice."

Radheya was one of the many Naxalites who chose the life of struggle for social justice over the material comforts of a job. "I have written a few letters for my comrades' families and we would like you to do us a favor by safeguarding them , and posting them from the district head quarters when you visit Phulabani next week. We just want you to bypass the scrutiny at local post offices, so that we do not reveal our whereabouts to the police. "

Sitaram was badly shaken by the tapancha but was still wondering how Radheya had information on his monthly visit to Phulabani. He was about to walk towards Radheya when he felt a sharp sting on his arm. He looked down to see blood gushing out of his arm. Before he could say something, the whole place was filled with loud bangs from guns and Radheya was lying dead in a pool of blood in front of him.

He passed out, and did not remember much of what happened, but had faint memories of a policeman pumping bullets into the lifeless body of Radheya. He also had memories of another cop who bandaged his arm, and called an ambulance for him.

Sitaram gained consciousness in an Ambulance. The paramedic was asking him how he felt. Sitaram could not feel his left arm. He looked at his wrist watch on his right hand. The time was 10:51 a.m. Suddenly, Sitaram could sense himself being flung into the roof of the ambulance and bright light filled his eyes.

Sitaram remains as "a patient along with a paramedic and the driver of the ambulance were killed in the landmine triggered allegedly by Naxalite rebels, in Kandhamal".

"Zindagi ek hawaa ka jhonkaa hai - Kabhi bhi kuch bhi ho saktaa hai ".