At around the same time, Jadob was sitting at the mahji’s house. Jadob was happy. The mahji, however, had fever after being beaten up by the policemen. He was telling Jadob a long story about what his uncle had told him when he was a boy. The story was from the Independence movement, when the Gonds too had marched to the call of Gandhi, against the British, and had been beaten up in several lathi charges. The mahji was telling Jadob he now realised what they must have felt.

‘It is not the same thing,’ said Jadob, who always wished the mahji would keep his stories short.

‘Eh?’

‘I said, it is not the same thing. Have you gone deaf, too, mahji?’

‘How is it not the same thing, Jadob?’

‘Being beaten up by the British and being beaten by your own policemen, by your own government, is not the same thing.’

‘I think I know what you mean, Jadob.’

‘What I mean is, it hurts more when it is your own people beating you.’

‘The police are not my people.’

‘That’s not what I meant, mahji. Anyway, see, here is the newspaper. I don’t know how the Stringer got the news. And I really don’t understand how he got the photo. Unless he was dressed like one of Patnaik’s policemen.’

‘Nobody does that kind of thing, Jadob.’

‘I know. It is very mysterious. But this is really good news. This means the state government in Bhubaneshwar can’t ignore us now. This means reporters, maybe even TV people, will come here. We will have to talk to them, we must explain that the government is doing something wrong.’

‘Do you think they will come?’

‘The reporters and TV people? Of course. This has become an important story. My friends in Bhubaneshwar and Cuttack have been calling. People there are talking about it. A single news report and a photograph have done this. Now imagine the impact of TV stories, and more such news reports.’

‘Yes.’

‘So we must continue what we are doing. We have to make banners, and hold them up, and sit somewhere, and talk to these reporters when they visit us. We have to tell them our story. People must know. But other people will also come.’

‘Politicians?’

‘Yes. I have been told some people from Balangir will visit this evening. Leaders of political parties will also visit. This is a good chance for them to make speeches. Everyone will come.’

The mahji was looking trapped.

‘Mahji, you will not run away, will you? We need you. I can talk to these people, but you are the headman. You are our leader. Don’t run away, please. If we lose, we will lose everything. The hill, the village.’

The mahji said he would stay right where he was, even if the world was coming to Deogan and he didn’t like it.