An Elegy for the Rural Reporters Who Keep Grassroots Journalism Alive

It is no secret that most award-winning national journalists use ‘stringers’ to build their stories (and their careers) and win accolades. But few speak of those rural reporters who keep old-fashioned journalism of footwork alive.

A white gamcha wrapped around his head and wearing dark glasses, a young man leads a convoy of motorcycles along a dusty kachcha path in front of mud and bamboo huts. An I-card hangs around his neck and he has a pillion rider. 

The 13 second video clip is of Mukesh Chandrakar who shared it on his handle on social media platform X (formerly Twitter).

‘Le aaye CRPF India ke veer jawan ko.’ 

[We brought back the brave soldier of CRPF] says the text that accompanies the short clip.

The tweet is dated April 8, 2021 when Mukesh played a key role in securing the release of CoBRA commando Rakeshwar Singh Manhas, who was abducted by Maoists at an encounter in Bijapur in Chhattisgarh four years ago. CoBRA (Commando Battalion for Resolute Action) is a specialised unit of the Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) to combat extremists and insurgents in guerrilla/ jungle warfare-type operations.

There are many rural reporters like Mukesh who pursue grassroots journalism, a dying form of journalism

Three days back, on January 3, journalist Mukesh’s body was found inside a septic tank on the premises of a private contractor, Suresh Chandrakar, against whom Mukesh had recently reported. His story was about corruption worth crores in a road construction project in Bastar region of Chhattisgarh. 

Mukesh ran his own YouTube channel Bastar Junction with 167,000 followers, while he also freelanced with several regional and national media houses. Those who have followed the Maoist movement and insurgency in the country are well aware of how Bastar division has remained a stronghold of Maoists and generations of local communities have lived with an endless cycle of violence, attacks and counter attacks. 

Reporting from this media-dark zone in central India is not for the faint-hearted and Mukesh had been doing it fearlessly, exposing the contractor raj, and the nexus between politicians and private contractors. He paid for it with his life. 

He went missing on January 1 and was found dead on January 3 at Chattan Para in Bijapur.

The political blame game has begun. Meanwhile, the state government has formed an 11-member Special Investigation Team (SIT) to investigate his murder and file a report within four weeks. Four people including the contractor Suresh Chandrakar have been arrested so far.

Mukesh Chandarkar (extreme left) along with other rural reporters from Bastar in Chhattisgarh in Central India.

There are hundreds of rural reporters like Mukesh, spread across the country. These are a rare breed who pursue grassroots investigative journalism, a dying form of journalism. Not for them the norm of current journalism that happens over phone calls, where stories are rehashed from tweets, Instagram reels and other social media platforms.  

Two-thirds of the Indian citizens still live in rural India yet, stories from rural reporters rarely get space on the national platforms. It is no secret that many award-winning national journalists have used these local reporters, commonly referred to as ‘stringers’ or ‘fixers’, to build their stories (and their careers) and win accolades, at home and abroad. 

All this while rural reporters continue to face threats, both to their lives and livelihood. City-based reporters parachute down to locations, pick information for stories and return to their safe havens. The local reporters continue to help urban journalists despite knowing that they might well face the music. 

In 2002 when I worked with a magazine published from New Delhi, I landed in Allahabad (now Prayagraj) after reading a small story in a newspaper about a PIL filed in Allahabad High Court against fluoride-contaminated water that had crippled an entire generation of tribal villagers. Little did I know that those villages were located on the border of Uttar Pradesh and Jharkhand in Sonbhadra district. The entire tribal belt was Naxalite-affected.  

At Robertsganj in Sonbhadra, I met a young local reporter, Prabhat Kumar, who called me didi (older sister), and decided to accompany me to the afflicted villages in the heavily forested Chopan block near the state border where “it was not uncommon to for vehicles of outsiders to be blown up”. 

Reporting from Naxalite-affected media-dark zone in central India is not for the faint-hearted and Mukesh had been doing it fearlessly.

Why did Prabhat Kumar accompany me? He said, because he felt the pain of those marginalised tribal families and their children with bow-shaped legs (due to excess fluoride intake). He hoped by helping me tell their story, their plight would garner a national audience. He hoped the government would take note of the people’s plight and act on it. Prabhat continues to be a younger brother to me, and a friend.   

In the five years that I worked with Gaon Connection, India’s biggest rural media platform, I worked more closely with rural reporters. The best part of my job as its Managing Editor was to brainstorm and develop stories with an army of community journalists spread across the country to make a ‘local story’ into a national story, with the byline of the local reporter

During the COVID pandemic these community journalists continued reporting from their villages to ensure that the voices of rural Indians are heard loud and clear. It was a moment of great pride when one of the stories of the community journalist, Ramji Mishra, who lives in Brahmavali village in Uttar Pradesh, received national recognition. It was nominated in the business and economy journalism category of Red Ink Awards for Excellence in Journalism 2022, given by the Mumbai Press Club.

Journalism is a shrinking space. Grassroots journalism is on its last gasps. I feel extremely fortunate that when I started off as a journalist, it was a norm to visit the field, to walk around the villages talking to people and then only report a story. 

Most media houses now claim they do not have funds for out-station travel, so reporters ‘report’ from home or the newsrooms. Or, they look for junkets and pray that their manager approves it. Their worry is not about bringing to light issues but more about how to file five to ten stories in a day, something the digital era demands of them.

Mukesh ran his own YouTube channel Bastar Junction with 167,000 followers, while he also freelanced with several regional and national media houses.

Nidhi Jamwal is a Mumbai-based journalist who reports on environment, climate, and rural issues.

Photo: X handle of Mukesh Chandrakar

Courtesy: kashmirtimes.com

2 Replies to “An Elegy for the Rural Reporters Who Keep Grassroots Journalism Alive”

  1. जहां प्रतिष्ठित पत्रकारों को मुख्यधारा की पटकारिता की दुनिया से अलग कर दिया गया है तो अचरज नहीं कि दूरदराज के क्षेत्रों में कम करने वाले पत्रकार तो सरकार की अंक की किरकिरी हैं जिनके ख़िलाफ़ षड्यंत्र किए जाते हैं और उन्हें हमेशा के लिए रास्ते से हटा दिया जाता है

  2. Salute to Mukesh Chandrakar and all those brave-hearted young reporters who are trying to keep the spirit of democracy alive.
    Thanks for this write up

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