Himanshu Kumar

Himanshu Kumar, a Gandhian from Meerut had spent 17 years working in Dantewada. He had an ashram on the outskirts of the forest where tribals from the deep interiors could come for refuge. Here they learnt how to file FIRs, petition the district collector, interact with forest officials, seek redress. But on 16 May 2009, as Indians elsewhere were celebrating a peaceful General Election — proud symbol of India’s vibrant democracy — a posse of policemen and several bulldozers rolled into Himanshu’s ashram and razed it to the ground. He sat with his wife and daughters under a tree and watched. His elder daughter cried as it rained. When the police were done, not a trace of the 17 years remained. Just a drooping crocus and, ironically, pamphlets in Gondi urging tribals to vote.
For several months more, Himanshu tried to continue his work from a makeshift ashram nearby. Then, as the intimidations piled up, one evening he shed his trademark white kurta, shaved his moustache, disguised himself in red shirt and jeans, scaled the wall of his house and came away to Delhi. He has never gone back.
Himanshu Kumar too could have closed his eyes the day the first raped and maimed tribal girl limped into his ashram. He knew filing hundreds of cases against the police would rouse the beast. He knew he was putting his family in jeopardy. But he chose
Himanshu Kumar’s Vanvasi Chetna Ashram, which works for tribal rights in Chhattisgarh, faced a suspension order in 2009 on the grounds of “threat to national security”. Himanshu says that he was asked to go to the District Collector’s office for the inspection of documents, whereas according to FCRA norms, the inspection is supposed to take place in the organisation’s office, whose licence is under consideration. A month-and-a-half later, he was asked to come to Delhi to submit the records in the ministry, but when that too failed to bring any relief, he sought legal recourse.
Himanshu — a man of irrepressible positivity and a humblingly ready smile — came to Dantewada in 1992. His father, Prakash Kumar had given up college in 1942 to join the Quit India movement; he met Gandhi in Sewagram in 1945. Later, he joined Vinobha Bhave’s Bhoomidan movement. “My father helped give away over 20 lakh acres of land in Uttar Pradesh,” says Himanshu, “but he and I do not possess one acre between us.” Inspired by his father and men like Vinobha Bhave, Himanshu started out under a tree inDantewada, asking tribals questions about their lives and needs, slowly helping them heal ailments like diarrhoea, snake bites, malaria and pneumonia. As their trust grew, the local gram sabha offered Himanshu a patch of land and built him a mud hut to live with them. For 13 years, there was no trouble as Himanshu and Veena — unusual daughter of a garment exporter in Raja Garden, Delhi, and a woman of equally inspiring positivity — went about their advocacy work. The trouble began in 2005, when the Chhattisgarh government started the Salwa Judum.
Himanshu began to protest against the excesses of the State, in particular the police andSalwa Judum vigilantes. He sent Sonia’s story to the National Women’s Commission: chairperson Girija Vyas did not think it worth investigating. Since then, Himanshu has sent hundreds of complaints to the Human Rights Commission. Their response? A committee led by the police to investigate police atrocities. Himanshu then also sent at least 1,000 complaints to the Superintendent of Police (SP) in Dantewada. He refused to file FIRs. (In fact, when Himanshu took up a recent false encounter case in Singaram, where 19 tribals were shot dead by the police, SP Rahul Sharma brazenly told the Bilaspur High Court that he had refused to file FIRs because Himanshu always lodged false complaints — forgetting that it is for the courts and not the police to decide whether a FIR is baseless or not.)
Himanshu’s advocacy brought him increasingly into hostile radar — erasing his past reputation for humanitarian work. In 2006, suddenly — 13 years after he began to work here — the state government sent him a notice declaring his ashram an illegal encroachment. Himanshu produced all the relevant papers. The issue went to court. In January this year, the government suddenly cancelled his FCRA and choked off his foreign grants. Himanshu had to let go of almost a hundred full-time workers. On May 16 — as the country was celebrating Indian democracy and the mandate for a stable government — Himanshu was suddenly handed a notice that his ashram was up for demolition the next day — illegally, since it was a Sunday. He called Chhattisgarh Chief Secretary P Joy Oomen and reminded him that the issue was still in court and that the next hearing was on June 17. Oomen assured him the ashram would not be demolished. The next morning the bulldozers moved in.

On 17 May, a day after the Lok Sabha election results, a police force of over 500 surrounded Himanshu’s Vanvasi Chetna Ashram, ten kilometers from Dantewada town. He was given half an hour to wrap up two decades of work. Then, the bulldozers moved in. They broke everything: home, dispensary, dormitories, training halls, kitchen, telephone towers (sanctioned by the government itself), swing, even a lone hand-pump that was the only source of clean water for the villages around. “Like skimming malaifrom milk”, says Veena, Himanshu’s wife.
As the bulldozers stamped the ashram out, it began to rain. Himanshu and Veena sat under a tree with their daughters — Alisha, 12, a student of Rishi Valley School, and Haripriya, a spunky 7-year old — and watched. Alisha began to cry. “I told her, if you do good work, you have to be ready for the tough times. I am glad they saw it happen. It was good training for my daughters,” says Himanshu. (It was good training for others too. The police caught two students from the Indian Institute of Science, Bengaluru who were visiting for field work and beat them. They yanked a journalism student, Veronica, by the hair and beat Javed Iqbal, a young freelance photographer from Mumbai, who had been travelling in the interiors, photographing the State’s assault on its villagers.)
On 17 May, a day after the Lok Sabha election results, a police force of over 500 surrounded Himanshu’s Vanvasi Chetna Ashram, ten kilometers from Dantewada town. He was given half an hour to wrap up two decades of work. Then, the bulldozers moved in. They broke everything: home, dispensary, dormitories, training halls, kitchen, telephone towers (sanctioned by the government itself), swing, even a lone hand-pump that was the only source of clean water for the villages around. “Like skimming malaifrom milk”, says Veena, Himanshu’s wife.
As the bulldozers stamped the ashram out, it began to rain. Himanshu and Veena sat under a tree with their daughters — Alisha, 12, a student of Rishi Valley School, and Haripriya, a spunky 7-year old — and watched. Alisha began to cry. “I told her, if you do good work, you have to be ready for the tough times. I am glad they saw it happen. It was good training for my daughters,” says Himanshu. (It was good training for others too. The police caught two students from the Indian Institute of Science, Bengaluru who were visiting for field work and beat them. They yanked a journalism student, Veronica, by the hair and beat Javed Iqbal, a young freelance photographer from Mumbai, who had been travelling in the interiors, photographing the State’s assault on its villagers.)

• Himanshu Kumar, Salwa Judum and Mahendra Karma - here
• Shoma Chaudhary Report here
• A letter by Himanshu Kumar here
• Tehelka Coverage here

- From Tehelka