Here’s a sample of online comments that an article on Binayak Sen in a national daily generated:
- “Dr Binayak may have done a lot for the people of Chhattisgarh, but knowingly keeping contacts with naxals means a national conspiracy and it needs to be punished.”
- “The red army is running parallel government in the borders of three states which is not acceptable under any circumstances. In the case of Binayak Sen ... he should be punished for his involvement in Anti-National activities....”
- “Naxalites are killing people indiscriminately and must be dealt in with a strong hand…They [human rights activists like Dr Sen] not only hamper economic progress, sometimes they are even in the pay roll of corporate houses to sabotage rival corporates.”
- “Dr Sen after his release from the prison must desist from activities which are contrary to the law of the land.”
These, at best, give a glimpse into the minds of many Indians who believe that sympathising with the “dreaded” Naxals must amount to treason of the highest order. The state must, at all cost, liquidate the rebel movement and squash any dissenting voice that questions its line of attack. Period.
Sure, there are saner voices, too, that recognise the grey areas of India’s biggest internal security threat, and the farce that is the case against Dr Sen. But a majority of mainstream Indians would quiver with righteous indignation at the suggestion that a government shouldn’t snatch a man’s freedom simply because he doesn’t believe in its brutal methods or empathises with those it considers public enemy number one.
Dilip D’Souza’s book, The Curious Case of Binayak Sen, is precisely important because it slams this line of thinking and highlights the absurdity of the Chhattisgarh government slapping sedition charges against Dr Sen.
The author triumphs in his intent, but falters somewhat in the execution. But let’s leave that aside for the moment.
In the first chapter, the author firmly declares that the aim of his book is not to put the doctor on a pedestal or attempt a biography. His interest lies in the legal case against Dr Sen. The subsequent 16 chapters go on to detail the flimsy grounds on which the prosecution tried the doctor for waging a war against the state. The author dissects, bit by bit, the court proof, charge sheets and judgments, and demolishes the “evidence” against Dr Sen with a common-sense approach.
Indeed, the prosecution provides such corroboration that it makes you wonder if it was on hallucinogens. In one instance, the charge sheet filed against Dr Sen asserts, “Dr Binayak Sen is certainly a doctor, but in terms of the practice of medicine is a zero.” It adds: “On 19.05.07 when Dr Binayak Sen’s house was searched, none of the following were found in his treatment room — a table to treat patients, stethoscope, medicines, BP machine, register with the treatment of patients and a time table to patients. Dr Binayak Sen is a doctor only by name, there is no treatment.”
Clearly, since he doesn’t have his working paraphernalia at home, Dr Sen is a Naxal in the garb of a doctor hatching conspiracies to destabilise the Indian polity. Incidentally, the Chhattisgarh government had appointed Dr Sen and his wife, among others, to an advisory committee on health reforms in 2003.
As the author exposes the anomalies of a justice system that is subservient to the whims of the powerful, he tackles themes like sedition and rural healthcare. Is there no difference between “conspiring against the state” and criticising it? Could there be a link between poor delivery of medical care and the rise of the Naxalite movement?
At the heart of the curious case of Binayak Sen, however, is the sheer helplessness of an ordinary citizen in front of an executive and a judiciary that decide to subvert dissenting voices. But Dr Sen, in many ways, is no ordinary citizen. He had the backing of a 24/7 media, mainstream publications and the outrage of human rights and citizens’ groups across the globe. There are many who stand alone — the Binayak Sens that will perish in our jails without so much as a sigh from the rest of us free citizens.
Dr Sen’s story, then, is a metaphor for our times — one that needs to be used powerfully, and that is where the book becomes weak. Its flat tone fails to evoke or jolt. For many people who are well-acquainted with Dr Sen’s case, the book won’t offer much that isn’t already known by way of insight or information. I would have liked to read a book that offers more than just the nitty-gritty of the legal case against Dr Sen, who came perilously close to getting branded persona non grata in his own country. While my sympathies as a journalist already lay with Dr Sen, the book’s staid tenor does little to inspire serious introspection.
THE CURIOUS CASE OF BINAYAK SEN
Dilip D’Souza
Harper Collins 186
pages; Rs 250
