The sentries passed word down the line and I got a message saying that one of them was Parusram Singh, the other probably some relative of his who looked like a “military man” and the third a villager.

“Parusram Singh was a Tahkir, but he was no friendly terms with many people. In the days when we had no money and had gone hungry, he had often brought us food. He would even cook for us himself and treated everyone with respect. I told the sentries to allow them in, including the stranger. When they arrived, I introduced them to members of the gang, but, as I shook hands with the other man, a suspicion crossed my mind that he was a police officer. As if reading my mind, he said he was a relative of Parusram and had always wanted to meet me. He apologized for the intrusion and said he had forced Parusram to bring him, asking me no to be angry.

“I asked my men to make two more beds for us to sit on and give us good food to eat, since we had honoured guests. I sat next to the man, still suspicious and wondering how to ask him who he really was and why he had come to see me. During the conversation, I slipped my hand into his pocket and came up with a camera and a tape recorder. When Parusram saw these things in my hand, he seemed afraid and tried to snatch the tape recorder from me, saying it was an expensive gadget. In the confusion the tape recorder got switched backwards and forwards and I heard my own voice. I was very excited and fascinated by this machine and asked what other wonders he had. Out came a pistol from his pocket!

“I asked him to tell me who he really was and said I would not harm him because he had come as a guest with a trusted friend. It was then that he said he was the S P of Bhind, Rajendra Chaturvedi, and that he had been sent by the Chief Minister, Arjun Singh, to discuss the terms of my surrender. He had recorded our conversation for the Chief Minister.

“I was amused and said he had hardly talked to me and would not have much to tell the Chief Minister. He then said he had planned to visit us continuously for three or four days before broaching the subject. He wanted me to be in the right frame of mind. I began to relax and told the men to keep a strict watch while I talked to the Superintendent of Police.

“I told him that I could not surrender while my family remained in Uttar Pradesh. They would be harassed by Maiyadin and the police who had been after me for a long time. He was very patient and listened to me, giving his own arguments. He wanted to discuss the terms of my eventual surrender, he said, and did not intend to impose anything on me. It was then that I said my entire family would have to be rehabilitated in Madhya Pradesh, with land and a house provided for them by the government. If I surrendered, my relatives would have no protection, I explained, from either the police or enemies of mine in the village.

“The S P agreed to carry these demands to the Chief Minister. He asked us to stay in the same area, saying he had given orders to his men; that they would not trouble us till he came back with an answer. He also said that the surrender should take place somewhere nearby.

“It was twelve noon, so we all sat down to eat together. As he was leaving, the S P asked if he could take a photograph of me. I refused. He left with Parusram and the other man around 4 p.m., saying they would be back within eight days, after discussions with the Chief Minister. As soon as they left, we decided to run from there and after a whole day and night of travelling we arrived at a temple. The sadhu of the temple was my guru and I told him what had happened in the past few days. he advised me to surrender, saying we should not let this opportunity slip. They might not ask us again. I did not agree with him at the time and we moved on.

“We arrived in the jungles of Naharpura in the Etawah district. On our third day thee, we received news that the S P of Etawah, Ratoori, also wanted to meet us. He arrived soon afterwards with the men who supplied us with food. He said he had heard I was planning to surrender to the Madhya Pradesh police and he spent the whole day trying to persuade me not to. At the end of it all, I agreed with him that since we belonged to U P, the surrender should be there and not in Madhya Pradesh. I was so convincing that when he left he was sure I would agree to his proposals and gave me 5000 rupees, saying we should not leave his jurisdiction. I assured him that we would not and asked him to come back the next morning.

“As soon as he left, Man Singh and I decided to move out o the area. We had both got the feeling that he was not to be trusted. Just before this time, another dacoit, Chabbiram, had agreed to surrender to the U P police but they had gunned him down as he emerged from the jungle unarmed, with other members of his gang.

“We returned to the Bhind district and decided to rest in Parusram’s fields, near a tube well. Parusram was very happy to see us and said the S P of Bhind, Chaturvedi, had been there three times looking for us, wondering where we had disappeared to. I told him that we had gone to Etawah on a visit but were now back for good.”

Negotiations

THE NEXT TIME Rajendra Chaturvedi visited Phoolan Devi’s camp, he was given a warm reception. Jaiveer touched his feet, without frisking him, and chatted casually as he led the way to where the rest of the gang were waiting. As the policeman came into view, Man Singh rose from the fire he was building and went to greet him. Touching his feet and giving him a Namaste, he took out a 100-rupee note from his pocket and offered it to him.

“It’s not necessary,” Chatuvedi said, returning his greeting.

“It is our custom,” Man Singh insisted. Chaturvedi accepted the gift ceremoniously, imitating the manner in which it had been offered.

Phoolan Devi was in a light-hearted mood. Following Man Singh’s example, she bent down to touch his feet, saying, “It’s good to see you but I have no money to give!”

Everyone laughed as Chaturvedi repeated, “It’s really not necessary.”

The atmosphere in the camp was relaxed. All the gang’s supplies were stacked under a plastic sheet, hung over branches cut from the surrounding babul trees, and dal boiled on a smoking, makeshift choola. Tea was brought and he was offered a blanket as protection from the wind, as Man Singh struggled to light the five. When he finally got it going, they sat down on rugs around it, grateful for the warmth. It was an exceptionally cold winter that year, 1982, and it was well over twelve months since he had last met the gang.

Chaturvedi recalls watching Phoolan crouched over the choola, while he talked to the men, making rotis for them all. It occurred to him how very “ordinary” she looked. “Just like any other village woman in the area, except with her hair cut short and wearing blue bell-bottom trousers,” he told us in Rewa, that day on the lawn.

They ate bajra ki roti, dal and aalu-methi a simple meal which felt like a feast in their rugged surroundings. The conversation revolved round explanations. Chaturvedi told her he had met Ghanshyam, who now believed him when he said he had had absolutely nothing to do with the death of two members of his gang. They discussed Chabbiram and here, too, Chaturvedi reminded them that the Madhya Pradesh police had not been responsible for that act of betrayal. He said all he could to win their confidence and felt elated by the knowledge that he was succeeding. They decided to trust him. Phoolan raised the issue of her family once again and Chaturvedi said he would visit her mother and work out the arrangements with the Chief Minister, as soon as he had her answer. Phoolan said she needed time to think it over and discuss the matter with Man Singh in private. Chaturvedi had to accept the fact that progress would be slower than he had hoped.

Several such meetings were to follow over the next few days and Chaturvedi said it was then that he got an insight into Phoolan Devi’s unpredictable nature, especially at times when she felt under pressure. On once occasion, when he had tried to push her to make up her mind, she had screamed back at him, “Who the fuck do you think you are? Don’t forget you are talking to Phoolan Devi! I could have you shot dead this instant and send your body back to your Chief Minister on a donkey!” During all such outbursts, Man Singh tried to bring some calm to the situation and Chaturvedi began to realize certain qualities of strength and steadiness in the man. Chaturvedi began to study him more closely. His long, tangled hair gave him a wild look and his eyes, almost jet-black, were intense and capable of conveying meaning at a glance. Phoolan, by contrast, was erratic and emotional, her eyes quick and alert, always on the move, always restless. “Like a wild animal,” Chaurvedi said, “always on her guard, rarely relaxed.” He had little option but to remain patient. Having come so far, it would be foolish to allow tempers to get in the way of some negotiated settlement.

He informed her that Ghanshyam had agreed to surrender and wanted to co-ordinate dates with her.

“What about Muslim?” she asked.

Chaturvedi was surprised she had not heard. Muslim had been shot and wounded in an encounter with the Uttar Pradesh police some months earlier. He had managed to escape and contact Chaturvedi, who had driven in a police jeep, picked him up and then driven him to a police hospital in Bhind. His injuries had been fairly serious so Chaturvedi had moved him to a civilian hospital in Gwalior, where he had been treated. He was now in jail, with Malkhan’s gang, having achieved the same terms of surrender.

In her diary, Phoolan Devi says: “By now I had full faith in the Madhya Pradesh government and we didn’t move camp. On the fourth day, the S P came back at midnight. He told me he was going to fetch my family from Uttar Pradesh. He asked me to give him some token by which my family would believe him. I gave him directions to my house and took off my ring. I told him they would believe I had sent him when they saw the ring.

“I suggested it might be easier if I accompanied him, since I was a master of disguise and had ventured into towns several times, in different clothes. Nobody would recognize me as Phoolan Devi in a sari. I had been to fairs and bazaars dressed like that, I told him. In fact, several times I had even been to city hospitals for treatment, without being discovered. [For several years, Phoolan had suffered from gynaecological problems that caused much bleeding and pain.]

“Then I told him a tale I like to repeat. I had gone to Satna district to the temple of Mahiar Mata, to make an offering of a gold necklace weighing nine tolas. [She told me later it was to pray for “the blessing of a child”.] It had my name engraved on it,” she said. “Baba Mustaqeem accompanied me, taking me there on a stolen motorcycle. To taunt the police, I informed them that I was coming on the ninth day of the month, a day that was considered auspicious at that temple. I knew thousands of people would be there but when we arrived, the police had surrounded it and were searching every man and woman who entered. They even searched the women’s hair. At first Baba said we should not risk it but I told him all we had to do was to join the pilgrims and remain calm. In any case, no one would recognize us. I went to a mali, a flowerseller, and bought a heavy garland of flowers, which I asked him to put in a basket. We placed the jewel box in it too. Leaving the motorcycle near his stall, we said we would be back soon. I was wearing salwar-kameez [tunic and trousers] and had fixed on a false plait. Bawa wore trousers and a bush shirt.

“As we entered the temple we were searched. While standing in the queue, I asked a police constable what was going on and why there were so many police about. He told me Phoolan Devi had threatened to raid the temple that day! Both Baba and I were thoroughly amused.

The main shrine was on top of a hill and we had to climb many stairs.

to be continued...