Chhattisgarh

You have seen the picture. What would you say?

It is really a very ordinary photograph. A few village women in colourful saris walking to work. It is morning time, the sun is bright and shining, but it is not very hot. The road is good, perfect for a long drive. The trees provide a precise match to the surrounding. They also make a beautiful arched gate at a distance. Their barks are painted white, to serve a warning to the drivers at night about their presence.

This is what is visible. What isnt is something else!

It was the month of December and I was driving from Jagdalpur from Raipur, alone, in my Santro. The distance of nearly 300 kms was supposed to be completed in around five hours and I had started in the morning.

For those in the dark, Jagdalpur is in Chattisgarh, and is easily the biggest town in the entire Bastar region. Chattisgarh itself is thoroughly unexplored and Bastar remains one of the least traversed areas of this country. It is also one of the most beautiful, just like a newly wed girl whose face is still behind a veil.

At a time when it is chic to travel out (of the country, that is), I have this naive feeling that even if I desire to explore theentire country, I would be spending my lifetime enjoying what it has to offer, only to clamour for more (hope the reincarnation thing is true).

Well, back to the story. I espy the photographic opportunity and stop. My Canon is ready and I am about to shoot, when something catches my eye. Its a man, naked from the waist up, directly behind me, ostensibly with a machete in his hands. He is visible in the rear view mirror; I hear voices, there is more than one person. My sudden stop at that place has unsettled them; I couldeither be a water-reliever or an enemy. Since I show no inclination for the former, it is the latter, they probably surmise.

It is one hour since I left, and the last thing that I want is something unpleasant to happen in this relatively unknown country. I have been to Bastar a number of times, but lets face it, in spite of the beauty and everything; it is still quite foreign (on pun intended). And to top it, traversing in a Naxalite infested area presents its own set of problems.

But something in me urges to snap. I have an advantage, and that is what I use the car, of course. I restart the ignition, push the accelerator some hundred feet, brake, shoot and scoot. My Santro and Canon, both remain faithful.

I will never know whether what I did was right, or whether the fear that struck me suddenly at that moment was misplaced. But the sudden appearance of that short dark man with an axe unnerved me. Maybe his intentions were noble, he may be cutting some trees and must have come when I stopped.

But why didnt I see him at the first placebefore I stopped?

The incident will always remain a mystery for me.