[Reader-list] Detained in India, arrested in Bangladesh

[Harsh Kapoor]

New Age, 22 June 2009

Detained in India, arrested in Bangladesh

Shahidul Alam in an interview with Rahnuma Ahmed


Please tell us about your project and why you were detained by the
Indian Border Security Force.

   I started the Brahmaputra project in the late 1990s. It’s an
incredible river that goes from Tibet through Arunachal and Assam in
India, into Bangladesh and all the way into the Bay of Bengal. In the
early part of the project I’d done some video footage in Tibet and
India, but not any in Bangladesh. We at Drik felt that we should try
and produce a film, so my colleagues in the audiovisual department,
Sumeru Mukhopadhyay and Abul Kasem, and I went off to Nijhum Deep in
the south, in the Bay of Bengal on 11th June for 3 days.

   We returned to Dhaka, then went to Rowmari on the 15th to
photograph the section of the river where it crosses from India to
Bangladesh. We drove up to Chilmari, went by boat to the Rowmari side,
found a guesthouse. It was late afternoon, and we thought we should go
out on a recce. As photographers we had obviously cameras, and I had a
video camera with me.

   As it often happens in villages, distances are not the same as we
measure it in the city, so whenever we asked people where it was,
they’d say, ‘just out there’, ‘a little bit further’, ‘ten more
minutes...’ We ended up travelling quite a long way, by van, a little
by boat, then we walked through market places, by people’s homes, with
cameras dangling on either side, three strangers, creating a lot of
attention.

   At one point we were walking across some paddy fields, and an
elderly farmer stopped me and said, this is a difficult way to go, why
don’t you go on to the road which is nearby. This was a clay track
road, very overgrown, not much of a road, but soon after I got on to
this road armed BSF (Indian Border Security Force) people from the
other side of the fence beckoned me. I knew this was a dangerous
situation. I knew that 52 Bangladeshis had been gunned down by the BSF
during the last 6 months. I was possibly only 50 yards away – well
within their shooting range. It wasn’t sensible to do anything other
than comply. So, I walked calmly towards them, making plans about how
I should proceed.

   As I had sort of expected when I got close to the gate, they opened
the gate, several of them ran out and literally dragged me inside. And
locked the gate. I was well and truly within India.

   You mean there were no border signposts.

   No, there was absolutely no sign mentioning territory, or that we
were crossing into restricted zone, whether it was no man’s land or
anything else. These were paddy fields we were walking across. When I
got onto this dirt track, there was still no sign. One could see there
was the Indian border far away, one could certainly see the fence. And
it was soon after I got onto the dirt track that the BSF beckoned me.
But before that, there’d been absolutely no indication that we were
outside anywhere of Bangladesh.

   But what about BDR soldiers?

   No, none. Certainly, we’d expected there to be BDR jawans and other
people, or at least some sort of an indication near the border, but
there weren’t any.

   After the BSF pulled you into their gates, what happened? Did they
assault you?

   No. They came out and grabbed me, and dragged me in. They (how many
were they?) about 5 or 6, there were more inside, they were a bit
rough in dragging me in but I wouldn’t say I was assaulted.

   As a seasoned photojournalist, how did you strategise, to get out
of this situation?

   Well, since I was in their firing range what was most important was
to stay alive. Once inside, there was the question of avoiding
physical violence. I felt I would be much safer in the hands of senior
officers than in the hands of jawans, trigger-happy jawans in
particular. Knowing the history between the BSF and Bangladeshis, I
felt that presenting myself as a Bangladeshi was going to be suicidal.

   I made the decision that I was going to be a foreign photographer,
out on an assignment. I decided I would speak only in English. I did
have Bangladeshi identity with me which I didn’t want to show. I also
had a UK driver’s license, so it made sense for me to be British. I
mentioned National Geographic because that was a known name and even
out here the jawans might have heard of it. I also calculated that
bringing in a US component could give me some sort of insularity,
given the power of the US, and the fact that India was its close ally.
As for the National Geographic, I am on their Advisory Board. I give a
lecture there every year, I’m involved in many of their seminars so I
do have a long relationship with the organisation but I wasn’t on
assignment for them.

   My initial attempt at convincing them that I was a foreigner with
British and US connections was merely power play. I was trying to make
sure the jawans felt I wasn’t some Bangladeshi they could beat up and
kill, but someone from far away, who had better connections. And
frankly, I was using the race and class card.

   What happened after that?

   Well, talk of the National Geographic, of being British, shook them
a little bit. Of course, I pretended I didn’t speak Bangla or Hindi. I
heard them talking amongst each other, saying that perhaps it wasn’t
such a good idea to take a foreigner, perhaps they should let him go.

   I decided to push my luck further. I said, unless you let me speak
to my National Geographic colleagues they might report to head office.
Then I rang you, my partner, and I spoke to you in my best British
accent. I remember it took you a little while since we don’t speak to
each other in English, but you quickly twigged. More for the audience
than for anyone else, I fairly loudly told you to inform the prime
minister, the home minister, the BDR people, the BSF head, etc. I
pulled names out of my hat willy-nilly, but making sure they were
important-sounding names, so that that these jawans recognised that I
was a very important person, with important connections.

   How were you treated by BSF once they knew that you were a big-shot
photographer?

   Once the officers arrived, I felt, I was more in control. They
wanted to look at my identity card, asked for my address. Soon, the
officer, a Mr PK Roy, a Bengali, was convinced that I was not an
ordinary Bangladeshi but probably an important foreign photographer.
Their attitude began to change. He asked the jawans to get me a cup of
tea.

   Later, he got a phone call, from obviously a senior person on his
side, who presumably told him that I should be released, that I should
be taken good care of. Now, it was a question of the information
percolating down to the lower levels of command, and getting a written
confirmation from his immediate superiors before he could release me.

   Much later, sweets were bought from the market. The tone of the
conversation, and the dynamics, changed completely. But, as it was
getting dark, they were convinced no handover would take place at
night. I was taken to a guesthouse nearby, into a room, with a
television, a telephone with a handle, a bed, an attached bathroom.
Very clean, very pleasant place, and given dinner. Mr PK Roy was very
concerned that I was made to feel looked after. I spoke to his
commander who was extremely polite, apologised for the situation, and
said that the BDR had been informed. I would be handed over to the
BDR, as soon as communication took place. I thanked him, and assured
him that I was being well looked after. It was a very civil
conversation.

   What were your concerns then, as a photographer?

   I’d been taking pictures along the way. I’d been shooting with a
wide angle lens. I was pretty certain that my wide angle shots, my
landscape photos etc, would have segments of the space I was going
through, which I now realised was illegal. I didn’t want to get caught
with these pictures, so I worked out how to remove this incriminating
evidence.

   What happened after you were handed over? It was at 11:15, right?

   Yes, around then. It was pitch dark, dense shrubbery, bad roads. We
came to a point where Mr PK Roy said this is where the sign is [Indian
no man’s land begins]. So I said, well, please show me the sign. They
looked around, but couldn’t find it. They apologised and said, please
believe us, it’s here, we can’t find it right now. Then they met the
BDR people, again, a very civil meeting. The BSF produced a document
for the BDR to sign, when I was handed over.

   Once the Indians left, the BDR subedar got a phone call from his
commanding officer. He spoke to me then, and initially accused me,
apni lukie gecchen, you sneaked into this place. I strongly objected
because we’d come in broad daylight, three of us, we had equipment, we
had asked people for directions. He then changed his tack. He said
there were some formalities which I had to go through, papers I needed
to sign. Of course, I agreed.

   And did you learn from the Kurigram BDR, how they came to know of
your detention by the BSF? Was it locally, or from Dhaka?

   No, I found out later from conversations, they’d received the
information from Dhaka. In fact, the subedar was very worried about
this. When the BDR director general had rung from Dhaka, he had
specific information about where I was. But the local-level BDR hadn’t
a clue.

   And why do you think those at the local-level didn’t know?

   I was told about this later. I was chatting to them and they said,
we’d normally have known. It wouldn’t have occurred but we had some
VIP guests. We had been busy entertaining the VIPs.

   And after that...?

   Initially, we went to the BDR camp, three of us on a motorcycle,
miles away from where this incident took place. They offered me food
which had apparently been prepared for the VIP guests so it was good
food. They kept saying another 5-10 minutes, but after a long time, I
said look, what’s going on here, I want to get back. We eventually
started walking but instead of taking me to the guesthouse, they took
me to the thana. Another long wait, close conversations between BDR
personnel and police. At one stage, I said, I’m very appreciative that
you’ve got me out of India. But I’m now a citizen in my own country,
you have no right to keep me here unless you’re arresting me for
something. I got up to walk away and that’s when I realised they
weren’t going to let me leave the place. By then I learnt from local
people who had come to the thana that the BDR was about to file a case
against me. At this stage I rang you again, this was about 2:30/3:00
in the morning. Shortly after this, they confiscated my cameras, and
my phone. I no longer had direct access to anyone.

   So, why did the Bangladesh government file a case against you?

   It’s conjecture, of course. The local BDR were extremely worried
about the predicament they were in. The fact that they had no
knowledge of this incident, that the border had been completely
un-manned, that there was no BDR person in sight, that they didn’t
know about it even after the local people had gotten to know. It left
them with egg on their face. And again, the original accusation by the
colonel suggested that there was an attempt to put the blame and onus
upon us, that we had sneaked into this place, which was clearly not
true. So, there was huge negligence on the part of the BDR, and I
suspect they needed some sort of a diversionary tactic to cover up for
their omission.

   Did your bail application and the court proceedings go through smoothly?

   Yes, everyone was very cooperative. I was also granted permission
to travel abroad. I am scheduled for an exclusive photo shoot with
Nelson Mandela, and there are other important assignments that I
wouldn’t like to miss, yes, things went very well. Most Kurigram
lawyers and journalists were they. They rallied around me.

   If you were not who you are, what could have happened?

   Possibly, the worst. The BDR men themselves told me that I’d done a
very wise thing by walking up to them, not attempting to run, or doing
anything silly. They said they were scared to go to these places.
That, sometimes, criminals take shelter from the police by going to
these regions because they know that the police are scared of
venturing there. So, by all concerned it was known to be dangerous
territory. That there was a huge amount of harassment, they themselves
felt harassed, and certainly ordinary people were harassed, but what
they kept coming back to every time was, you’d probably have been
dead.

   You saw the fence built by the Indian government at close quarters
– probably closer than you had planned (laughter, audible) – I’d like
to know what you think of that.

   I have been to many countries. I have seen many borders. I know of
the Palestinian border, but outside of that this is certainly the most
imposing, dominating, scary, border post that I have come across. I’ve
gone across the Germany-Poland border, where you’ve had surveillance
equipment, you’ve had people with night shooting guns, but in none of
those situations have I seen anything that looks as scary as this
particular fence. The fact that we are neighbouring countries, the
fact that we are meant to have a friendly relationship, is no way
signified by the presence of a physical entity of this sort.

   One of the things that also worries me is that there are many
people who have friends, relatives, very close ones across the border,
they have to travel one day to get to Rajshahi, apply for a visa a
month in advance, the costs, the time, the preparation, all of the
things that need to be done merely to be able to go across to visit a
near one, simply cannot be condoned.

   Considering that India has played such an important role in the
liberation of Bangladesh, one would have expected a very, very
different relationship between these two countries. Considering that
we call ourselves members of SAARC [South Asian Association for
Regional Cooperation], we’d expect far more cordial relations between
ourselves. The fence, the fact that the BSF is so trigger-happy, the
fact that 52 Bangladeshis have been gunned down in the last 6 months,
the fact that it is a zone of terror for local people and for our BDR,
speaks volumes of what it should not be about.

   How high is the fence?

   The gate itself, I’m trying to remember now, large black gates,
double gates, about ten feet tall, 20 feet wide, I think. But the
fence, the barbed wire extends above that, [what, it extends above the
gate?] well, not above the gate itself, but it’s higher than the gate,
stretching on both sides, as far as the eye can see.

   It’s still quite early, but how do you look back at the incident?

   That’s a big question. My first concern is that I have to finish my
story so I have to work. The story is incomplete, it needs to be told,
not only the Brahmaputra story, but given this situation, the border
story. I think it becomes even more important today, knowing what I do
now, that we question the structures that makes such a situation
possible. But, before anything else, I need to thank the many, many
people who have done so much for me over this period of time.

   And again, I reflect upon this in a different way. Obviously, I am
happy that I am out of danger. But I also reflect upon two issues,
one, the fact that while I was detained and later released by India, I
have actually been arrested by my own country in the course of doing
what happens to be my duty, what is in the public interest. I also
think it is important to reflect on the fact that at a political
level, at an official level, there are these huge differences between
our nations, but at a human level, at a personal level, there exists
huge camaraderie.

   Some of the people who did the most in getting me released were my
colleagues, my journalist friends across the border in India, and of
course, Mahasweta Devi. She had, as you know, inaugurated CchobiMela
V, so, in a way this reflects how we as professionals, as artists, as
individuals, have this camaraderie, have this openness, have this
mutual respect, have this pull toward each other, which does not seem
to be reflected by the people who govern our nations.