‘So what I don’t understand is why you thought you could come here and make them fight the government. The government, of all things. You know, every month, I have a number in my head. That is the number of Gonds I have to arrest. They don’t have to do anything, most of them haven’t really done anything, but I have to arrest them and put them in jail, and then they keep going to court and nothing happens. You know why I do that?’

Mishra was silent.

‘Because I have to keep them quiet. Otherwise they will think the government is weak and they can do whatever they like. And that won’t do, will it? Now, these villages, all they care about is their hill. So they have been protesting, and have even gone to the Supreme Court against the mine. Who would have thought? But now they will understand: you can’t fight the government. That is, you can fight, but you won’t win.’

Mishra still did not say anything.

The long line of vehicles returned to Deogan and entered the compound of Patnaik’s office. Patnaik put his arm around Mishra and, holding the rope tied to the handcuffs, took him inside. A crowd was already beginning to form outside the office. Those on the streets with nothing to do—and in Balangir town there were many of them—began looking over each other’s heads to see what was going on.

Patnaik marched straight to his office, still smiling, while his men brought in the four arrested Maoists and the Gonds, including the boy. Patnaik sat on a sofa at the other end of the room and insisted Mishra sit on another sofa.

‘You are a top leader, so you must sit here,’ said Patnaik. The other three men and the Gonds, he said, were to sit on the floor. The Gonds did it without a murmur, because they were used to it, in big offices. The three men looked at each other and stayed standing. Patnaik glared at them.

‘So, good. Everyone here? Excellent. Now we will talk some more, and meanwhile we will call a press conference. I’m sure some of those TV people are also in town. They always seem to be. Have you seen my charger yet?’

The constables said they hadn’t.

‘Okay. So, Mishra, do you have anything …’

The phone rang. Patnaik waved at one of his constables to pick it up.

‘I was saying …’

‘Sir,’ said the constable, ‘It’s Collector sir. He wants to talk to you.’

Patnaik smiled again and walked quickly to the phone.

‘Hello, Behera? Is that you? Listen, there is some good …’

‘No, you listen. Where have you been? Your cellphone was switched off.’

‘Yes, that. My charger is missing, so the battery died.’