Gunshots and Gurus

Running for your life. It always struck me as a funny phrase.

Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singh, the religious leader of Dera Sacha Sauda, a kind of religious cult was on trial for rape. Thousands of his fanatical followers had surrounded the courthouse in the North Indian city of Chandigahr. Sleeping on the roads that surrounded the building in the build-up to the verdict.

Tensions were high and trouble was a possibility, I took the decision to cover the event myself rather than have our local stringer put himself in any danger. My driver and friend Sanjay left Delhi before sunrise to make the 5-hour journey before access was blocked by security checkpoints.

On arrival we parked behind the security forces who were setting up a buffer zone around the perimeter of the courthouse. If anything was to happen, I could jump into the car and we’d drive to relative safety.

Hours past and I chatted with some colleagues who’d also made the journey up from the capital. I shot and filed a couple of pictures to alert clients that I was there and to alleviate the boredom. It had been a long day already.

A gust of wind got up and out of the relative silence a cheer and then applause rippled through the crowd. I asked my colleagues what was happening? Expecting to hear that the Rahim Singh entourage had maybe alerted the crowd to their imminent arrival. Nope. The crowd, or sections of the crowd had decided that the wind was in fact Rahim himself sending them a sign. Things were beginning to get a little weird.

A short time later a large convoy of SUVS snaked their way through the manicured tree lined streets announcing the actual arrival of the alleged rapist. There was a palpable change in the atmosphere. His supporters, now energised and somehow vindicated had become more hostile towards the media and security forces. Before they had been happy to recite their doctrine and regale us with stories of his magnificence and how these ladies were liars and whores. Now, they tentatively waited the verdict.

A few of the news organisations had reporters in the court room so we were getting updates on what was happening. At first, we heard he would be released without charge and then we heard he would be found guilty. It was hard to tell which story was actually coming from inside or just gossip made up by bored journalists.

Tensions continued to rise and at this point I asked Sanjay to move the car as we were now blocked in. I put him on alert and asked him to remain in the vehicle with the engine running. By

now the security forces had positioned themselves behind the metal barriers and began to form into columns. Something was about happen.

Subtle changes in behaviour Is quite often the only indicator you have that a relatively peaceful demonstration, protest or gathering is about to become something else.

It was around this time that my colleagues and I who were still inside the cordon with the supporters were ushered to the side and told that Rahim was to be found guilty. We must move behind the barriers and put on any protective equipment we may have. Making my way over to the car I put my flak jacket and helmet on and attached the gas mask to my belt. Losing any unnecessary weight or equipment. I asked Sanjay to keep his phone on and stay well out of range of any projectiles that may end up coming his direction.

Little did I know that we had just become the meat in a massive shit sandwich. In their wisdom the security forces had allowed protestors to gather behind the security barriers in adjoining streets. This meant we had potential rioters in front of us and behind us on three of the four streets at the crossroads where the story was unfolding. Luckily Sanjay was parked in the one clear road available.

I checked all my camera equipment. Batteries charged. Empty memory cards.

It didn’t take long for word to reach the crowd of his conviction and for the reaction to come. It was like the crowd became a seething mass of anger and hatred. I’ve been in my fair share of sticky situations but the look and actions of some of the people was awesome in the true sense of the word. Possessed.

They began to attack the security and press. Setting dozens of cars and motorbikes alight and turning over satellite trucks as the engineers scrambled out and ran for cover.

I was shooting pictures from behind whatever hard cover I could find but all the time they kept coming closer. The security forces were not in control. We then started getting attacked from behind. Taking photographs was no longer the priority. I turned and ran. Scrambling under a barbed wire security barrier that had been erected to control the situation, I glanced around and saw armed soldiers and police running with me. Fear etched all over their faces. Chaos. If I didn’t get out of here, I was probably going to die.

People were running in all directions. Colleagues barricaded themselves inside buildings. I found some cover again and tried to regain my composure and shoot some frames. There were fires all around. Thick black acrid smoke. I looked to my left and saw an older police officer beating his own men with his bamboo lathi. Screaming at them to hold their lines. The crowd kept coming. I rang

Sanjay but he wasn’t answering his phone and I could see the car was now several hundred meters down the road. I had to make a run for it but at this point I was wearing my gas mask and coupled with the flak jacket and cameras, I was not moving quite as fast as I’d like to.

As I reached to the car there was the crack of gunfire. I exchanged a few cursory words with Sanjay and tried to catch my breath and calm down. I could see that the mob were now being pushed back, clearly because of the gunshots. I jumped in the driver seat and drove back down the road I’d just been running up. When I got as close as I could I jumped out again, asking Sanjay to keep the engine running and this time answer his bloody phone.

It was like a war zone. Vehicles on fire, debris all over the road. Trees uprooted. Sandals and shoes everywhere. And protestors. Some wounded, some dead or dying. The military had now established some sort of control. It was an absolute shit show from beginning to end.

Over 40 people died. Some in the subsequent riots that spread across northern states. Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singh was convicted for the rape of two women and of being involved in the murder of a journalist.