Piecing together a story

Every time there is an encounter between the Maoists and the Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) in Chhattisgarh, I leave for the spot after filing a story based on the police version.

I was in Raipur in December 2014 when Maoists killed 14 CRPF personnel near Kasalpara village in Sukma district. It takes about 14 hours by bus to go from Raipur to Kasalpara. Once you cross Kamanar camp on the Jagdalpur-Sukma road, there is hardly any cellular coverage. As I had started quite late from Raipur, reporters from other publications were far ahead of me. To make matters worse, the road from Dornapal to Jagargunda was terrible and there was no public transport. A journalist was kind enough to lend me his motorcycle.

When I reached Chintagufa village, Kosa, the son of the village head, was standing near a school. “I knew you would come. I was waiting for you,” he said. The villagers there had a soft corner for me as one of my stories had helped reduce the atrocities of the forces on the villagers. I told Kosa to rush me to the site of the attack on his motorcycle. He told me that he had sent the other journalists on a longer route and we were taking a shorter one.

We reached Kasalpara, inspected the spot, clicked photos, met the villagers and decided to head back as it was already 5 p.m. I had jotted down notes in a small diary. As we were nearing Chintagufa, I realised that my dairy wasn’t with me. I panicked and told Kosa who said that we must go back to Kasalpara. He followed the same route in the dense forest which we had used earlier that day. It was close to 7 p.m. We searched everywhere but the diary was nowhere to be found. Kosa set out by foot to search for my diary even as I lost all hope. Suddenly he returned, diary in hand. Thrilled, we were about to leave when he realised that the motorcycle had little patrol left. My gloom was back. Realising that I was desperate to go back, Kosa went to his neighbour’s house and brought half a bottle of petrol from his motorcycle. He refused to take money for it.

While leaving Chintagufa, I knew that I was not going to write a report that day as I hadn’t spoken to senior officials. But luck was by my side. At a police station, a guard volunteered information, and as we reached Dornapal at 9 p.m., phone coverage returned too. I filed my story. Meanwhile, the proactive desk had called up the Indian Air Force for their reaction. It was an exhausting day but thanks to friends, sources and luck, I finally wrote my report.