A day that has stayed with me

(This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025, wherein 10 posts are published in 15 days. This is the sixth one. The prompt: If you could relive one ordinary day just to feel it again, which would it be?)

It was 35 years ago. I was just about two years into my career, working as a sub-editor at Free Press in Indore, Madhya Pradesh.

One of the big stories making headlines at the time was the agitation led by the Narmada Bachao Andolan (NBA), or Save Narmada Movement. Launched in 1985 under the leadership of Medha Patkar, it opposed the construction of large dams on the Narmada River, primarily due to the displacement of thousands of rural families, especially farmers.

Baba Amte. (Britannica)

Baba Amte, well-known for his humanitarian work among leprosy patients at Anandwan in Maharashtra’s Chandrapur district, had lent his moral support to the NBA.

Despite suffering from a spinal ailment that confined him to a cot or wheelchair, Baba Amte decided that year, in 1990, to move to Chhoti Kasrawad village on the banks of the Narmada River in Khargone district, Madhya Pradesh. He just wanted to be among the people whose land would be submerged.

The camps, huts, houses, and ashrams all along the riverbanks would later become not just hubs for activists to discuss, plan, and share ideas, but also centres for education, community organisation, and coordination of the movement’s activities.

A SNAP DECISION

When I heard about Baba Amte’s plan to relocate, I felt it was a compelling story for our newspaper, given it is published from Madhya Pradesh. I asked my editor, Mr Shravan Garg, if I could travel to the village and cover it. He readily agreed.

The next day was my weekly off, and I made an abrupt decision to head there immediately. Why I chose to go on my weekly off day was because getting leave, even for official work, at short notice was (and still is) quite a challenge.

EARLY MORNING DEPARTURE

The village was about three hours away by bus. I was thrilled. There’s nothing quite like being at the scene of action. It was also my first outstation reporting assignment.

Since the round trip would take about six hours, and I expected to spend three or four hours there, I boarded an early bus from Indore station around 8 am, hoping to return by evening, or worst case, by night.

When I reached Barwani, the nearest town, I heard about a road-blockade in solidarity with Medha Patkar who was on a hunger strike in Bombay (now Mumbai). 

Getting to Baba Amte's hut from Barwani meant traversing seven kilometres of rough, untarred track. I reached the place riding pillion on a farmer’s bicycle. He offered to drop me since he was headed in that direction. All through the ride, he spoke passionately about the project and how it would adversely affect farmers.

HURDLES GALORE

My objective was to meet Baba Amte and speak with him. Since this was a completely unplanned, a spur-of-the-moment trip, his assistants were surprised when I showed up and requested an interview slot.

And the fact that I was a young, rookie reporter didn’t help at all. Though I had been very closely following the anti-dam agitation, I had never covered any event related to the protests. Nor did I know anyone closely in the organisation. My hopes began to ebb, as I got responses like "Baba Amte is busy", "he is resting", "you will have to wait", etc. 

Though I could still write a story based on conversations with people and describe the ambience of the village that would soon become the movement’s epicentre, I wondered what was the point of returning to Indore without speaking to Baba Amte. The story after all was about him moving into the village.

BREAKTHROUGH, FINALLY

By the time Baba Amte was back at the hut after spending some time with the protesters who had organised the traffic blockade, it was around 5 pm. It was getting late, and I began wondering what my cut-off time should be. 

Then, suddenly, an aide of Baba Amte approached me and asked, “Are you from Free Press?” I said, yes. He looked and sounded genuinely helpful. He said he’d try to facilitate the interview, but I’d have to wait: not before 6 pm.

I said that was fine. But he warned me that after 6, it would be difficult to get to the nearest town, from where I’d need to catch a bus back to Indore. Then, to my pleasant surprise, he kindly offered me accommodation at the camp for the night. I couldn’t believe it.

Around 7 pm or so, I finally got to meet Baba Amte. The interview went off well. He spoke at length why the project was being opposed. He said he wasn't opposed to development but big dams that displace thousands of people are not the only solution to people's livelihood problems. He said that there are several alternatives like smaller dams, better water management, etc. 

A MEMORABLE SOJOURN

I spent the night there. That day remains etched in my memory. A day surely I'd love to relive.

A remote village on the banks of the Narmada. A cool, starry night. Peace and quiet all around. The kind of ambience one only dreams of.

I woke up the next morning feeling unlike ever before — so happy, with a deep sense of accomplishment. It’s not often that everything falls into place. And all in a single day!

I took the first bus from the nearby town and reached home just before noon. Later that day, at the office, I met the editor and shared my experience.

I filed the story. It was carried on the front page. My joy knew no bounds.

WHY IT WAS MORE SPECIAL

The entire experience at that camp in Chhoti Kasrawad village was memorable not just because I could interview a legendary humanitarian like Baba Amte or because of the great ambience of the place.

It was also my 25th birthday.

A birthday like never before; and never after.