In the afternoon of 9th May 2014, a posse of policemen stopped a car in Delhi and pulled out a wheelchair-bound man on his way home from work. He was then flown to Nagpur, where he was arrested under UAPA (Unlawful Activities Prevention Act), the draconian anti-terror law. His wheelchair was damaged as he was hauled up and thrown into the police vehicle and the nerves of his left hand were injured, an infection that later spread and rendered both his hands virtually useless.
This man was G.N. Saibaba, professor of English at Delhi University, scholar, writer and human rights activist. In the eyes of the Indian government, he was a dangerous threat to the State, accused of ‘waging war against the nation’. In March 2017, the Gadchiroli Sessions Court sentenced him to life imprisonment for alleged links with a banned organisation, CPI-Maoist. Saibaba’s appeal against the judgement, challenging the police evidence and witnesses, has been pending in the Nagpur High Court for five years. Meanwhile, he is kept in solitary confinement, denied the medical care he needs.
What would cause government agencies to take such an action against a man paralysed by polio from the age of five, suffering from 90 per cent disability as well as a cardiac condition and chronic and severe spinal pain?
Born into poverty in the town of Amalapuram in Andhra Pradesh, Saibaba overcame his disability to top his university and become a highly regarded professor. From his student days, he has also been engaged in activism on behalf of victims of poverty and state violence, and played a significant role in the campaign against Operation Green Hunt, the notorious paramilitary offensive aimed at dispossessing Adivasi people of their habitat by force.
Is this what makes him a ‘terrorist’ in the eyes of the State?
Even as human rights organisations across the globe demand an end to his detention, Saibaba continues to believe in the possibility of a better world. The poems and letters in this book convey his innermost thoughts and feelings anguish, hope, resistance, and resilience—and a vision of a just, equal and humane India that we all deserve and need.
Several academics, poets, and activists - Varavara Rao, Hany Babu, Arun Ferreira, Sudha Bharadwaj (since given bail), Stan Swamy (who passed away) Gautam Navlakha, Anand Teltumbde, G. N. Saibaba - are/were languishing in Indian prisons simply because they raised their voices against injustice. The Indian state has wrongfully charged them under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (an anti-terror law) and alleged that they were linked to banned Maoist organizations. Most of these activists have spoken against Dalit and Muslim oppression under state violence. That's pretty much their crime.
Why do You Fear My Way so Much? is a collection of poems and letters from one such activist, Dr. G.N. Saibaba, a professor of English at Ram Lal Anand College in Delhi University. G.N.Saibaba is a person with 90% disabilities and is wheelchair-bound. He was arrested under the UAPA in 2014. In 2017, he was sentenced to life imprisonment for alleged links to a banned Maoist organization, which Saibaba has denied. An activist from his student days, he became the target of the state when he played a major role in the campaign against Operation Green Hunt, the paramilitary offensive against Adivasi people. In 2021, Ram Lal Anand College terminated Dr. G.N. Saibaba's services.
In Why do You Fear My Way so Much?, we read letters and poems written by Dr. G.N. Saibaba as well as a few letters that his wife writes to him. He is not allowed to write letters in Telugu from the prison, his mother tongue. Even worse, he has been denied the medical care that he needs, even during the pandemic. The poems tell us about the dire state under which Dr. G.N. Saibaba has been detained by the Indian state and the resilience and hope he harbors in spite of it all. Here are some of my favorite ones:
The True Prison
It's not the high walls nor the solitary cell.
It's not the clanks of keys nor the sounds of surveillance.
It's not the monotonous food nor the cruel hours of lock-up.
It's not the pain and suffering in isolation nor the fear of death.
Neither the emptiness of days nor the blankness of the nights
My friend, it's the lies that spread on the high tables of justice.
It's not the canards thrown at me by the enemy of the people, nor the intrigues of criminal jurisprudence, nor the demagoguery of the political establishment.
My friend, it's the silence of voices against injustice done to the vast multitudes.
Some silence is imposed, rest is self-imposed. Some censorship is ordered rest is self-practiced. It's this web that is cast around us.
It's not the fear for the powers-that-be, but it's the fear in the voices to give voice to the voiceless.
It's the moral decrepitude. It's the hubris of a civilization. It's the amnesia of our combined histories in struggles for a free society.
Dear friend, it's it that turns our world into a true, dreary prison.
If you needed any reason to get this book and read it, this poem is the justification you needed.
Here's a small excerpt from another poem, Mother, Weep Not for Me which demonstrates his resilience.
Mother, fear not for my freedom.
Tell the world, my freedom lost is freedom gained for the multitudes as everyone who comes to stand with me takes the cause of the wretched of the earth wherein lies my freedom. [post script: Mother, I hope someone translates this letter in Telugu for you. Mother, pardon me for writing this in a foreign language that you don't understand. What can I do? I am not allowed to write in the sweet language you taught me in my infancy in your lap. - Your child, with love.]
I refuse to Die
When I defied death again, tired of my life, my captors released me.
I walked out into the lush green valleys under the rising sun smiling at the tossing blades of grass.
Infuriated by my undying smile, they captured me again.
I still stubbornly refuse to die. The sad thing is that they don't know how to kill me,
because I love so much the sounds of the growing grass.
Reading this book, one gets a glimpse into Dr. G.N. Saibaba's politics that speaks of injustice against Dalits, Adivasis, Muslims, Palestinians, and Yemeni people. His compassion even extends to the prison guard who surveils him. It is perhaps one of my most favorite poems from this collection, only because its expansiveness is challenging for me personally.
Ode to a Prison Guard
He smiles, he laughs through the bars to shake me up from my early morning dreams with a hug of a good morning clanking a huge bunch of keys into the cage of my life sentence.
A dark blue Nehru topi on the scalp, brutal khaki robes from top to bottom girded with a snake-like black belt around the waist, he stands and sways in front of my sleepy half-opened eyes like a devil guarding the gates of hell.
He appears like an apparition from an enemy's army but with a warm smile and friendly face, checking if one were alive or dead as the day breaks, counting each live head.
He opens and closes the locks of the iron gates a thousand times a day without expressing pain or complaint.
He demands no tips or favors for his untiring services. He calls the unattending doctor repeatedly on his wireless set patiently when I am sick and unconscious.
he hids his own sad stories lending his patient and compassionate ear to the voices of the chained melancholic souls never bothering for their crime or innocence.
He listens, debates, and damns the evil forces in power with scorn and a frown on his brow when the bosses are away into their offices.
he stomps on the dark steps of the devilish states all night long with his eagle eyes of surveillance.
he comes from the deepest well of our social misery. he has no time for his beloved ones languishing outside the gates. Imprisoned by his duties day and night behind the high four walls and closed gates, he spans away a lifetime in prison for a pittance. The cursed souls come and go, but he is a permanent prisoner, he has no holidays or holy days and weekends.
he is a nun, a nurse, and a priest, a pious perseverer of patience.
A tireless slave sticking everlastingly to the bars of my cage, he is a friend, a cousin, and a comrade. He is the guard, and the guardian of my life's sentence, phrases, words and syllables.
Highly recommend this book to free ourselves from the prison of silence that's being cultivated in India.
Why Do You Fear My Way So Much is a collection of poems and letters to and from Dr G.N. Saibaba to his friends and family. A professor of English at Ram Lal Anand College in Delhi University, he was charged under the notorious Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act in 2014 which is one of the few laws in India where the onus of proving yourself to be innocent is shifted to the accused. In 2017 he was pronounced guilty while he has always denied any kind of affiliations with banned Maoist groups. Being 90% disabled and bounded to a wheelchair, he is time and again denied basic facilities including the fact that his wheelchair was damaged by the police during its transfer to the prison. While there is the side of the Indian government of him being a militant sympathizer, he tells a different story of being loyal to the Indian constitution and its values, and hence being a strong voice against the discrimination and violence that is perpetrated against the marginalized communities.
Reading this book has been a journey within itself. The pain and anguish that comes across, engulfs you and you’re left with a feeling of helplessness. It is not a hidden phenomena that how we as a country are quickly spiraling into a deep pit of hatred and going after people who are against it. This book is a tale that needs to be told again and again. The following lines by the author is just an example why everyone should pick up this book,
I still stubbornly refuse to die The sad thing is that They don’t know how to kill me Because I love so much The sound of growing grass