Feb 1, 1999

In a forgotten cluster of inaccessible villages ruled by marauding gangs, the only succour comes in uniform--the police and the PAC jawans.

By Subhash Mishra

The small group of children sit huddled together as the man in uniform in front of them desperately tries to draw their attention. Policing and teaching are two different things, he realises, even as he continues with the alphabets. But he gives it his best because he also knows it is this or nothing for the unfortunate schoolchildren.

Unfortunate because their teachers have fled, deserting them. Just like the doctors and paramedical staff who have abandoned their patients in the dilapidated primary health centre. The police in this part of Uttar Pradesh are everything to everyone. Some 20 villages here know no state machinery other than the police and Provincial Armed Constabulary (PAC) jawans.

Such is their plight despite Chief Minister Kalyan Singh's repeated pledges to ensure the upliftment of rural areas. Even recently, on the occasion of his completing a year in office, he announced that gaon, garib aur kisan (villages, the poor and the farmers) were his priority. The district administrations, he said, would be expediting the various schemes for the development of backward areas.

But in this cluster of villages -- called Retachetra -- falling under Maharajganj and Kushinagar districts, there is no sign of that happening. Crores of rupees have been squandered in the name of development work by successive governments, yet there are no roads to reach these villages, no bridges to cross the raging waters of the Naraini on whose western bank the villages lie. There's not even a pontoon or footbridge to walk down to the area. The three lakh people scattered over this 175-km sandy stretch bordering Bihar and Nepal live in spite of their conditions.

It is with great grit that the police come here, the three-hour journey from the nearest point -- Khadda police station in Kushinagar district -- harrowing to say the least. Jeeps are first ferried across the Naraini in a handful of boats. Then an impromptu road of dry leaves is laid as the jeeps skid and stall on the slippery sands. The last 10 km or so are the most gruelling as they must be covered on foot.

The hostile terrain apart, the villagers must live under constant human terror. As long as they can remember, the dreaded Jungle Party comprising various gangs of militants has had a hold on the villages, its notoriety giving the region the infamous appellation, Chambal of the East. It is because they feared these militants that the teachers and doctors have fled, leaving the villagers to fend for themselves.

Not that the region could ever speak of even below-average educational or healthcare systems. There are only three primary schools and one remote primary health centre for the 20 villages. "For the past 10 years, none has studied beyond the fifth standard," says Ram Sumer Yadav, one of the villagers. For four years now, the Hariharpur primary school has been without a teacher. Indrabhushan Mishra, a jawan of the 26th battalion of PAC, has been holding fort for sometime. "I enjoy teaching instead of wasting time in tents," he says.

The sick and the injured are often left to die as the nearest medical help is 70-80 km away. When the swollen Naraini recently flooded the region, 60 people died of water-borne afflictions. Most of the deaths could have been averted but the villagers raised no eyebrows. "It is the will of God," they say.

Such fatalistic beliefs run high in these parts. Steeped in ignorance and poverty, the villagers know of no means other than their own. They've never stood up for their rights because they have no idea what they are. They are therefore easy prey for the Jungle Party groups which have been running a parallel administration in the villages.

Most of the villagers are engaged in small-time farming. "But till last year, they could not reap their cane or paddy crops because of the fear of the Jungle Party which used to impose a heavy levy on them," says S.K. Singh, superintendent of police, Kushinagar. Besides the levies, the dacoits plunder crops as well. "They forcibly take away our cane and sell them," says Dharmraj Singh, a farmer of Bhaisaha village.

There are a dozen Jungle Party gangs operating in the area, led by people like Nundlal Mullah, Loha Singh, Ramawadh, Tiger Singh, Laloo Singh and Rameshwar Koiri. Armed with sophisticated weapons and operating from the safety of the Terai belt of Nepal and Bihar, these gangs are known extortionists. "Illegal felling of teak trees, smuggling of khair wood, kidnapping and loot have been the traditional crimes of these militant groups," explains S.N. Singh, deputy inspector-general of police, Gorakhpur range.

Ignorance has a way of compounding the rot. In what is emerging as a more dangerous trend, groups of rival militants are sprouting all along the border villages claiming they would save the area from the clutches the Jungle Party. They call themselves the Gram Raksha Shahidi Jaththa (Village Protection Suicide Squads) and are armed with rifles and other weapons which they acquire from local gun-manufacturing units that have mushroomed like a cottage industry. "We have formed these suicide squads to protect our community," says Ram Kaushal Mishra, patron of the suicide squad of Naurangia village.

In the name of countering the Jungle Party, the suicide squads have started running a third line of administration. They even have their own cabinet and have allotted different portfolios to their various members. According to police estimates, there are more than 50 private armies in the region. Technically, these suicide squads exist only in West Champaran district of Bihar but freely operate in the bordering Uttar Pradesh villages.

But for the presence of the police, the state has done little to lift the morale of the villagers. Twelve informal police outposts have been set up to monitor the movements of the militants and enable the villagers to lodge complaints. DIG Singh and his team recently camped in one of the villages for more than 72 hours to make the presence of the state administration felt. "It is the first time that any officer has come to us during the past one decade," says one villager.

But Singh admits it's only a temporary measure. "How long can the police protect them?" he asks. "They have no schooling to become literates, no jobs to look forward to." Sitting idle in the constant fear of the militants would in all likelihood force them to take to the path of crime. "The situation is grave and needs immediate attention," continues Singh.

The men in uniform may be teaching in schools, monitoring fair-price shops and assisting the sick and injured but it is only a stop-gap arrangement. Unless the Government mounts an all-out effort to ensure basic facilities to the villagers and deals with the militants firmly, Retachetra will truly turn into another Chambal valley.

© Living Media India Ltd