Review : Jangalnama by Satnam

Review : Jangalnama by Satnam

I express regret at my inability to critically analyse this work, this being an encapsulation of the author’s memoirs of his observations of Bastar's jungles. It is quite clear that this was not an attempt to show simply the work of the guerrillas in the jungles in the last decades, but an open call to revolution. These pages were not meant to be a description of the fire that rages throughout  the bellies of either the adivasis or the forests, but a spark that would ignite the prairie fires of rebellion and dissent throughout the nation, a concept that the author himself reiterates throughout the book.

Taking example from Naxalbari, the Maoist resistance that had grown up on the heart of India's hinterlands, has been in a state of constant war with the Indian state. It captures the struggle the Maoists had to face to make the wary tribals believe they were not the enemies. But once that task was completed, the tribals annointed the guerrillas as their guardians - as their own kith and kin.

The author’s observations are not bland recordings of the daily lives of the guerrillas or the tribals, but insightful takes on the contrast between the life amongst trees and life amongst concrete. He chronicles the heart-warming and gut-wrenching tales of the struggles of the adivasis and the guerrillas. Whereas our diplomatic parliament refuses to see the world in anything but shades of grey, the tribals do just that. To them, the way of the jungle is the multitudinous colours of life. The guerrillas are the white guardians who have ensured them safety and rights of the jal, jangal and zameen. The repressive state who smothers their voices, rapes their women, lets their children die of diseases, and talks of progress, while slamming tables in a room miles away is black.

The state mourns Bhagat Singh's sacrifice on one hand and worships American interventionism and imperialism on the other. It is against this hypocrisy, this mockery of power, this corruption of justice, this illusion of democracy (that the state has managed to keep afloat) the guerrillas have taken up arms. This book doesn't attempt to justify violence, for it doesn’t need to be. The author knows that the AK47s in the hands of the guerrilla squads are what keeps the adivasis from exploitation. He cites examples of the exploitations of the mine workers of Bailadila to remove any doubt that the men of Bastar would have been exploited the same way, had the guerrillas not liberated them.

The culture of the tribals have also been described in detail. They are foreign to the concepts of Hinduism and Islam, and consequently communalism. The workings of a patriarchal semi-feudal structure have been lessened under the presence of the guerrillas. The tribals even question the use of cow and goat milk and eggs. To them, the animals  were to be reared for the meat and the market. Their festivals, dances, songs and  rhythms are inclusive of all. To them, Dilli is not a geographical location, the distance of which could be calculated from their villages, but the symbol of oppression of the state, a target, which they would once march upto.

The guerrillas had gifted progress to the villagers. They have started setting up an alternate model of civilization, one which would be free of greedy capitalism. As the author so gloriously puts it, “Bastar is not the end. Bastar is only the beginning.” Perhaps the beginning of a society dreamt up in the thoughts of thinkers like Marx and Engels, and leaders like Stalin and Mao.
The slogans of Naxalbari can be heard today through the forests of Bastar.

Tera naam, mera naam, sabka naam Vietnam.
Tera bari, mera bari, sabka bari Naxalbari. 

The book leaves us with a glimmer of hope for the future. The movement lives on.

Laal selam.