When dad is labeled a Naxal

Dr Binayak Sen, a public health specialist and human rights activist who was arrested two years back after being accused of having links with Naxalites in Chhattisgarh, walked out of jail this week after being granted bail by the Supreme Court. Others like Tushar Bhattacharya, Prashant Rahi and Vernon Gonsalves, facing similar charges, are still languishing in jail. How do the children of such activists get on with their lives when their fathers are branded ‘terrorists’? DNA meets them to find out.

Calling baba a terrorist doesn’t make it true
Pranhita Sen
When rumours of Binayak’s Sen’s arrest were doing the rounds in Raipur, where he lived and worked, his family was on edge. “We feared for Baba,” says his daughter Pranhita, who is now 24. “I would feel scared when he went alone anywhere. The situation in Raipur is different from that of metros.”

Pranhita was at the time studying in a college in Kharnagar, a few hours from Raipur. Her life changed after Sen was arrested on May 14, 2007. She started getting threats.

“Leaflets would be slipped under my door, saying ‘they’ knew I lived alone,” she says.
Sen finally got bail this week, but Pranhita describes the past two years as both an ordeal and a time of learning. “I am now scared to talk to people. Even when you messaged me for this interview, I felt nervous,” she says. “On the other hand, I also have seen the way people have come out in support of Baba’s release.”

During her father’s incarceration, Pranhita completed her post-graduation in mass communication, and became a filmmaker. She has been working relentlessly on the Free Binayak Sen campaign, and is the cinematographer for a documentary the People’s Union for Civil Liberties is making on the case.

Working for the campaign has also helped Pranhita appreciate her father’s work. “I began going for all the inquiries, and the experiences have taught me a lot. I realise nothing is wrong with my parents. In fact, they are great… When I was young, I had rich friends. I used to go to their houses and think they had such a lovely lifestyle. I would think why can’t Baba work like their fathers and make more money. But now I feel different.”

At the same time, she says she holds no grudge against the neighbours who shut their doors and windows when a posse of nearly a hundred policemen arrived to take her father away. “They called my father a terrorist and shut us out. But calling him names does not make it true.”

I really miss my father’s cooking
Koel Sen
The 22-year-old daughter of Tushar Bhattacharya, Koel Sen, is trying hard to be strong. Her journalist father lived in Uttaranchal, where he was picked up by the police in September 2007 after being accused of training Maoists. Koel was in her final year at Elphinstone College in Mumbai when she received a call from her mother telling her about her father’s arrest. That’s when an otherwise bubbly young woman broke down.

“I cried for a long time, and then went to meet a friend of my parents, who insisted I stay with her,” says Koel. “Now I don’t take the issue of my father’s arrest to heart because I don’t believe in pity. I was always close to my mother, and this has brought us even closer. ”

Now a budding filmmaker, she says the skills she’s learning will eventually help her get the word out on the work done by activists like her father for the tribals and the poor. “People equate Naxalites with terrorists, thanks to government propaganda. I don’t want anyone to think of my dad that way. He’s honest and socially-committed.”

Koel is constantly worried about his health. When she met her father in jail, he had a back problem and couldn’t sit up for long. “Doctors say he will need surgery.” She misses her father, and everyday things like cooking bring memories of him flooding back, she says.

I have grown up fast in the last two years
Shikha Rahi
Shikha Rahi, 25, is the daughter of journalist Prashant Rahi, who worked with The Statesman and was involved in mobilising people on land and water issues. When Rahi was arrested in December 2007, Shikha was working as an assistant director on the film Taare Zameen Par. Her father called her up out of the blue one day to say he had been arrested by the Rudrapur police. Shikha was shocked because she hadn’t had even a whiff such a thing ever happening.

“The last two years have made me grow up fast,” says Shikha. “I am no longer scared, but I have a lot of pent-up anger against the police and the state.”

She feels society needs to take a more positive view of activism. “The police call my father raj drohi (a rebel against the state). What does one do when the state turns against its own people? They are picking on people like my father,” she says. “The experience has changed me. I don’t feel free anymore.” She also feels constantly under pressure with responsibilities suddenly thrust upon her. “I need to talk to lawyers, meet people and and take decisions. It worries me to think how my decisions will affect my father,” says a visibly emotional Shikha.

She puts up a brave front but the load and stress of coping with her father’s case as well as her own work is eating her up.

I wanted daddy home before board exams
Vernon Gonsalves’ son
Vernon Gonsalves’ son has not had much of a chance to know his father. “Daddy would be away on work for long periods. It was only from 2006 that he was able to spend more time with me. Just when I was getting used to having him around, he was arrested,” says  the tenth grader. “Now it’s just mom and me again.”

Vernon and his wife Susan are activists who lived and worked in the Chandrapur and Gadchiroli areas of Maharashtra. In the last two years, Susan has taken her son to the area to meet the tribals with whom Vernon lived.

Vernon’s son says he doesn’t really discuss with his father the case against him.    “When I write to daddy, I simply mention the case in terms of cricket. I tell him one down, 99 to go. I have been told there are 100 cases filed against him. I was hoping that he would be released before my board exams because he would have helped me in my studies. I am feeling bad that he won’t be here,” says the youngster who will appear for his board exams next year.

Before the arrest, father and son used to email each other often. He looks forward to the day when he will be able to do that again. Until then, he hopes to put into practice his father’s advice. For instance, he had told him to learn through observation. “Now I have begun travelling alone by train and bus. And when I’m traveling, I  remember what he had told me.”

The boy has also visited Arthur Road jail. “The jail was noisy and crowded, but I was happy I got to meet daddy. He doesn’t complain, he simply gives me information about the size of his cell, the food he eats, the others in his cell.” After a pause, he adds, "Most of daddy's friends have been helpful. I’m proud of the work my father has done and I’m happy for him. One can have a father who goes to office and works in fixed hours, but I have a father who travels far to help others." (Name withheld as he is a minor)