In the dense forests of Bastar, the place each rustling leaf speaks of battle and braveness, Mukesh Chandrakar emerged not simply as a journalist however as a voice of the unvoiced. For me, he wasn’t only a colleague; he was a companion-a confidant who shared in moments of affection, laughter, and even scoldings. Mukesh was somebody you could not ignore, a relentless spirit who made you consider within the energy of storytelling.
A Friend, A Learner
I keep in mind how we used to speak each week, generally each 10 days. He would share tales about Bastar, his newest stories, or simply chat about life. Once, I observed he had a behavior of carrying a chunni (scarf) throughout his piece-to-camera. I teased him about it, saying, “Mukesh, you are a journalist. Project knowledgeable picture.” He laughed it off, however the subsequent time he appeared on digital camera, the chunni was gone. That second mirrored his willingness to be taught and adapt with out taking offense.
Patience In Tough Demands
As editors, we frequently demand perfection-multiple takes, completely different angles, or extra pictures. Mukesh dealt with all of it with grace. Not as soon as did he complain or lose his mood. Instead, he delivered what was wanted, each time, with the identical unwavering dedication.
The Roots Of Resilience
Mukesh’s bond with Bastar ran deep. Once, throughout a journey from Bijapur to Basaguda with our colleague Nilesh, he pointed to the ruins of a home hidden amidst tamarind timber and mentioned, “This was my house.” His voice was calm, however the weight of historical past was unmistakable.
Born in Basaguda, Mukesh misplaced his father in 1993 when he was simply two years previous. His mom, an Anganwadi employee, raised him and his elder brother amidst the shadows of battle. In 2005, as Salwa Judum terrorized Bastar, Mukesh, then within the eighth grade, noticed his village torn aside. Naxalites focused those that attended Salwa Judum conferences, whereas Judum members attacked those that refused.
“Earlier, we roamed freely, performed, fished with out concern. But quickly, even going 500 meters to the river turned a threat,” he as soon as recalled.
A Mother’s Strength
Mukesh typically spoke of his mom’s bravery. When rumors unfold that his elder brother and a pal, Tikku, had been becoming a member of the police, Naxalites summoned them to a Jan Adalat. Mukesh’s mom, in his brother’s absence, stood earlier than the Naxalites, pleading for his or her lives. Tikku was brutally crushed, however her braveness saved her son.
By December 2005, the household moved to a Salwa Judum reduction camp. Life there was harsh-rations had been stuffed with weevils, and survival was a each day battle. For two years, Mukesh and his brother communicated with their mom solely by letters. When they lastly reunited in 2008, Mukesh recalled, “Maa hugged me for half an hour, as if making an attempt to make up for all of the misplaced time.”
The Storyteller In The Making
Mukesh’s journalism was formed by these early struggles. He noticed firsthand how Salwa Judum leaders turned contractors, making the most of substandard rations provided to camps. He witnessed boys his age armed first with sticks, later with weapons, as they turned Special Police Officers (SPOs). His tales had been private as a result of they mirrored his personal life. He would typically say, “We collected Mahua not for happiness, however for survival.”
In 2011, Mukesh misplaced his mom to most cancers. Her closing want was to be buried beside her husband, with a bit of their house’s roof positioned close to her grave-a custom of their group. Mukesh spent hours looking by the ruins of their house for a bit of the roof. “I did not know if it was ours or another person’s, however I needed to fulfill her want,” he advised Nilesh.
Mahua Collector To Journalist
Mukesh’s journey was certainly one of transformation. From gathering Mahua and dealing in a storage to changing into Bastar’s most trusted journalist, his life was a testomony to resilience. Education in Basaguda was a luxurious, but Mukesh pursued it with willpower. He dreamt of changing into a collector, however journalism turned his true calling.
His YouTube channel, Bastar Junction, reached over 1.65 lakh subscribers. At NDTV, Mukesh reported fearlessly on points starting from tribal migration to crumbling infrastructure and authorities corruption.
Courage That Knew No Bounds
In 2021, Mukesh risked his life to rescue CRPF Cobra Commando Rakeshwar Singh Manhas from Naxalite captivity. Riding a motorcycle with Manhas behind him, Mukesh introduced him again safely-a second that symbolized his braveness and dedication.
The Cost Of Truth
In his closing report, together with Nilesh, Mukesh uncovered a street with 35 potholes in a single kilometre, highlighting the negligence of corrupt contractors. The report led to swift authorities motion, however it additionally price Mukesh his life. Those implicated in his story silenced him perpetually.
A Friend’s Memory
Vijay Morla, Mukesh’s childhood pal, mentioned, “We collected Mahua collectively, dreamt of higher lives collectively. Mukesh made these desires a reality-not only for himself, however for all of us.” He remembers Mukesh’s resourcefulness: establishing a small store, forming a carrom membership, or just discovering pleasure in small victories.
NDTV’s Vikas Tiwari, who labored intently with Mukesh, remembers, “Once, a district collector requested Mukesh, ‘Weren’t you planning to change into a collector?’ Mukesh replied, ‘In the race to change into a collector, I turned a journalist as an alternative.’ That was Mukesh-always rooted, all the time trustworthy.”
A Legacy Etched In Bastar
Mukesh’s story is a reminder of the worth of fact and the power it takes to pursue it. His life and work mirrored the struggles of Bastar and the spirit of its individuals. As his voice echoes by the forests of Bastar, it reminds us that whereas fact will be silenced, it can’t be buried.
(Mukesh Chandrakar, 1991-2025)
Anurag Dwary is Resident Editor, NDTV.
Disclaimer: These are the private opinions of the creator