Calcutta, Dec. 4: Ela’s big moment arrived without notice.

It sprang on her on a September afternoon as the second-year arts student chatted to friends at Milonda’s canteen on the Jadavpur University campus.

The 19-year-old had been generally unhappy with the world and had joined a band of pro-Naxalite students, Forum for Our Students, a year ago. Sometime this year, the group tilted away from the CPI(ML) Liberation towards the Maoists.

The call to action came within months.

“It was three months ago…. A group of CPI (Maoist) activists walked up to us in the canteen and told us a storm was brewing in Singur. And that we cannot keep out if it,” Ela (name changed) said.

That evening she tossed the name over and over in her mind. Singur.

Ela’s story

I was there on Saturday morning when the villagers fought the police.

Why shouldn’t they? If the government sends policemen with batons, teargas and guns to snatch their land, do you expect the poor farmers to just hand it over with a smile?

I remember getting deeply involved on my first visit. One of the women said: “My husband, three sons and I depend on our 10 bighas for our meals. If my sons decide to live separately, each will get his share of the land. But what happens if Tata provides a job to only one? What will the other two do?”

Does the government have an answer? I had one. I told them not to give up their land, come what may.

On Saturday, I reached Bajemelia at 8 am with my university friends. We joined the crowd at the village and kept an eye on the police on the other side of the paddy fields.

We heard policemen ask us to disperse over the public address system. Soon, the farmers were hurling stones and the police were throwing them back. You know what happened after that. I watched the action from inside a hut. But this is not the end. We told the farmers we would be with them even if their resistance has to turn bloody.

This time I shall not be just watching.

Constable’s story

It was around 10.30 in the morning and fencing was on at Khasherbheri. Suddenly, groups of villagers started advancing on us from the Taltala Ashram end. They carried sticks and sickles. Our officers asked us not to move.

As the crowd swelled, the additional district magistrate grabbed the microphone and appealed to them to go home as Section 144 had been clamped. But they kept drawing closer.

The additional superin-tendent (headquarters) and ASP (Asansol) took a few steps towards the mob. Whose nerves were going to snap first?

They began throwing stones, and then sticks with nails on them.

I saw a sickle hit deputy superintendent Soma Das on her arm. Some of our men dropped to the ground, injured. The mob roared. It was around 11.45.

The ADM ordered us to fire teargas, but the mob wouldn’t give up. Another contingent joined us. Start firing the rubber bullets, we were told.

Had they been real bullets, at least 15 to 20 people would have died on the spot.

Farmer’s story

When I, Netai Roy of Bajemelia, saw them fencing off the land that had been ours for generations… it was unbearable. We began throwing stones. Some of us climbed on the nearest terraces and shot arrows. We were ready for bloodshed. Then the teargas shells started flying in.

One landed on a pile of grain; it went up in flames. The police’ faces were set as they stomped into the villages. They dragged out our women and children; we were all beaten up.

The young misses from Calcutta said this was just the beginning.