ISSN (Online) - 2349-8846 On a Long March BERNARD D’MELLO Vol. 48, Issue No. 19, 11 May, 2013 Here is a review of Sanjay Kak’s new film, Red Ant Dream, which is about “those who live the revolutionary ideal in India”. In a sense, it covers a long march, from the times of Bhagat Singh to those of the Maoist revolutionary, Azad. The film, when the camera is in Bastar and in the Niyamgiri Hills, brings to us the culture of vitality over there, a way of life that is rooted in nature and in the struggles of the adivasis who are closest to nature, this culture blending with that of the Maoists who have brought to the adivasis memory and dreams of “far away insurrections and revolutions – Naxalbari, China, Russia, even the Paris Commune of 1871”. Red Ant Dream / Maati Ke Laal (2013) 120 minutes; English version, with subtitles Direction: Sanjay Kak Photography: Ranjan Palit, Sanjay Kak and Setu Sound Design: Madhu Apsara Writers: Sanjay Kak and Tarun Bharatiya Editing: Tarun Bharatiya You are far away from the sterile atmosphere of much of academia with its politically correct but spineless professors. You are miles away from intellectuals who detest both the Indian state and those who live by the revolutionary ideal. Just as well to be nowhere near those who run with the hare and hunt with the hounds – say they abhor the status quo but despise those who have embraced the political means necessary to get rid of the existing state of affairs. You are also insulated from propaganda of the kind that is around every day on the TV news channels. Their careful placement of the camera keeps the real, wholly different, story from reaching the public. In sharp contrast, Sanjay Kak’s new film, Red Ant Dream takes you right to where you’ve been denied access – the political world of “those who live by the revolutionary ideal in India”. The darkness is illumined by the headlights of heavy vehicles, huge dumper trucks; there’s an industrial complex in the background as two fugitives (our presumption) meet. The camera moves to the forest where the Maoist guerrillas are on the move in the darkness of ISSN (Online) - 2349-8846 night. With the approach of dawn, they are exercising. On a well-paved highway, security- force personnel are jogging. Not too far away, preparations are on for a public meeting; a Hindustani revolutionary song plays in the background. The All-India Radio (AIR) announces that operations will continue till the Maoists “halt violence and come forward for talks”. The words of the anti-imperialist, socialist revolutionary, Bhagat Singh (in 1931) appear on screen: Let us declare that the state of war does exist and shall exist ... that war shall be incessantly waged. The Revolutionary and the Angry Poet The camera is focussed on an armed squad of Maoist guerrillas on a trail in the forests of the erstwhile Bastar division in southern Chhattisgarh. Their transistor radio tells them what they very well know – that “the government is more or less prepared for a long-drawn battle with the ultra-leftists”. The camera then switches its location to Punjab. There are portraits of Bhagat Singh, just 23 years of age when he was hanged by the British on 23 March 1931, and the Punjabi radical poet, Avtar Singh Pash, 38 when he was assassinated by religious fanatics in 1988, by a strange coincidence, on the very day that Bhagat Singh was killed. It’s the 23rd of March 2011, the double death anniversary and people are on the march shouting “Inquilab Zindabad” (Long live the revolution) and “Death to Imperialism” (Samrajyawad Ka Nash Ho), the very slogans Bhagat Singh and B K Dutt – who while throwing harmless bombs in the central assembly on 8 April 1929 to “make the deaf hear” – first raised. Revolution has “been a long time coming” but surely, it’s going to be a “long, long time before the dawn” (the lyrics of that Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young song, “Long Time Gone”, seem to cross my senses). Unlike much of the academic discourse that has made its peace with the status quo, the degenerate, unscrupulous and callous system, Kak’s film doesn’t prevaricate – it’s in solidarity with the Revolution. Pash, “the angry poet for a generation” that was inspired by “the armed uprising that flared briefly in the village of Naxalbari in far away Bengal”, has harsh words for the security- centric ruling classes, for whom the biggest threat is internal. As he puts it (recited by the Punjabi revolutionary intellectual, Satnam, author of the Penguin tract, Jangalnama): If the security of the land calls for a life without conscience ... then the security of the land ISSN (Online) - 2349-8846 is a threat to us. “The insurrection in Punjab”, inspired by Naxalbari, “was violently snuffed out”, but the revolutionary spirit can never be extinguished. The camera follows a procession to Pash’s village, Talwandi Salem in the district of Jalandhar. At the venue there are revolutionary songs. Elsewhere, security forces are on the move; the AIR Kolkata correspondent reminds listeners that “the Prime Minster Manmohan Singh has repeatedly pointed out that the country’s greatest threat to internal security has been from the Maoists”. The camera is again on the Maoist guerrillas on the move. The film’s narrator tells us how the Dandakaranya forests emerged as “the centre of what is known as the Maoist insurgency”. As the camera follows the trail of the Maoist guerrillas, the voice of Azad speaks of established violence, the violence of the oppressors and the terror it has unleashed. In his view, “self-preservation is possible only through [people’s] war”. No Way Out but To... The guerrillas decide to rest; they are relaxed, smiling and laughing; some of them are telling the interviewer their stories – how their induction began with the coming and going of the Maoist militia, becoming a part of the Bal Sangham (children’s squad), then the Chetna Natya Manch (the cultural front), later the Gram Raksha Dal (village defence militia), and from there, to the pinnacle, with obvious pride, the People’s Liberation Guerrilla Army (PLGA) and participation in an ambush. A young woman guerrilla, speaking of private vigilante and state repression, says: “I’ve seen all this with my own eyes, the rapes and beatings, jungles being combed by the police. We realized there’s no way out but to fight, to take up a gun, and fight”. Initially, these young guerrillas, men and women, knowing that they are on camera, seem to be making the adjustment, just like any of us would if we were placed in front of a webcam. But very soon they seem to feel as if they are in control; that metaphorical wall between the maker of the film and the guerrillas seems to have vanished. The latter are no longer that conscious of the camera. Their real personalities begin to appear, and from then on one begins to get a feel of the life they are living, the way they are thinking, for they are now no longer self-conscious before the camera. This was a very precious moment for me, as if I was in the company of those guerrillas and they were feeling comfortable giving me a glimpse of their real selves. This is really one of the film’s high points, something very precious. I was particularly touched by the woman’s narrative, her description of ongoing, almost daily, happenings. The female comrades are touching, indeed, inspiring. One can imagine what they do, and no less, alongside their male comrades – their bravery, their tenacity, and the unimaginable hardships they willingly undergo and seek to overcome. Dandakaranya Red Culture seems to be really something that has taken root in these young women and men, shaping their thinking and their conduct. They have left their families for a new home – they have become ISSN (Online) - 2349-8846 a part of the big revolutionary family where there’s warmth, where there’s mutual help, where there’s a spirit of sharing joy and sorrow. If you were to ask me, I would say that all of this reflects the spirit of a people fighting for what they believe is right. Marvellous! The camera switches to Punjab again. It’s 22 March 2011 and we are in Khatkar Kalan where separately the Congress Party and the Akali Party are holding rallies to commemorate, indeed, “lay claim to the dead socialist revolutionary”, Bhagat Singh. The Congress has all along used the public memory of the revolutionary martyrs, Bhagat Singh, Rajguru and Sukhdev to gain political ground, yet the fact remains that it unequivocally disowned the political practice of these revolutionaries who are revered for upholding the dignity of the people of India. Bhagat Singh really hit the nail on the head when he said – and in this, he has proved prophetic – in a communication to young political workers on 2 February 1931, at a time the Congress was contemplating a compromise with the British government (http://www.marxists.org/archive/bhagat-singh/1931/02/02.htm): ... what difference does it make to them [workers and peasants] whether Lord Reading is the head of the Indian government or Sir Purshotamdas Thakordas? What difference for a peasant if Sir Tej Bahadur Sapru replaces Lord Irwin! The camera quickly leaves the establishment parties’ rallies and comes to a procession and gathering of the Lok Sabhyachar Samiti (People’s Cultural Front) where there are speeches and revolutionary songs.