BackHow Ram Vriksh Yadav’s kingdom rose, fell in Mathura’s Jawahar Bagh
How the cult leader came, saw and conquered 280 acres of govt land in Mathura's Jawahar Bagh with his aim to start an 'Azad Hind Sarkar'
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New Delhi: A few weeks ago, it wouldn’t have rung a bell, but the tragic events that unfolded last week have made Ram Vriksh Yadav an immediately recognizable name.
On 2 June, his followers, who call themselves the Swadheen Bharat Subhash Sena (SBSS), killed two policemen as the Uttar Pradesh police launched a drive to evict them from a piece of land in Mathura they have been squatting on for years. While station house officer Santosh Yadav was shot in the head, superintendent Mukul Dwivedi was clobbered to death even as almost 300 cops stood witness.
In the clashes that ensued, around 29 people, including Yadav, have died (as of Monday).
But to truly understand the audacity of Yadav, it is important to be aware of the geography that he was operating in, and the timeline of the SBSS saga.
Jawahar Bagh—the 280-acre horticulture department land that Yadav had converted into his personal fiefdom—can be approached from two sides. The first approach skirts by the district juvenile court and the district police superintendent’s office; the second runs adjacent to Jail Colony, a residential neighbourhood that houses the district jail’s employees. The district court is a five-minute walk away and the army cantonment is just a kilometre away.
The SBSS wasn’t just squatting on prime real estate in the administrative heart of the town, it was doing so for almost two-and-a-half years (the official version says 27 months, but according to the residents of Jail Colony and people in the neighbourhood, it was longer).
A senior police officer, who spoke to Mint on condition of anonymity, didn’t have much to offer by way of explanation as to why a massive illegal settlement was allowed to flourish, but admitted that the administration was not particularly tough on the SBSS whose demands included an ‘Azad Hind Sarkar’, with Subhas Chandra Bose as the “first citizen", and an Azad Hind currency in place of the existing rupee.
David Koresh, welcome to Mathura.
According to the police officer, it all began in February 2014, when Yadav was given permission to a hold a protest rally. It was a small one, where Yadav and some 200-odd supporters raised slogans against the Indian government and demanded an ‘Azad Hind Sarkar’.
While there is very little that is known about the SBSS, Yadav’s Mathura connection goes back a long way. The town’s old-timers remember him as one of the three main disciples of Mathura’s first, and still most revered godman, Jai Gurudev.
The story goes like this: After Jai Gurudev’s demise in May 2012, there was a fight between the three disciples—Yadav, Uma Kant Tiwari and Pankaj Yadav—over the godman’s sprawling empire, reported to be worth thousands of crores.
Finally, it was the youngest of the three, Pankaj Yadav, who was chosen as Gurudev’s heir. Tiwari was given an honourable exit, and now runs his own ashram in Ujjain, Madhya Pradesh.
Yadav got nothing.
Charan Singh, a spokesperson for Jai Gurudev’s ashram (a tacky replica of the Taj Mahal), refutes the authenticity of the story.
“Tiwari went on his own—and Yadav is a dhongi who has nothing to do with Gurudev," Singh said, using the Hindi word for impostor.
Yadav may well be an impostor, but almost no one in Mathura buys Singh’s claim about Yadav having no ties with Jai Gurudev.
According to several people, Yadav, as a mark of protest, began his satyagraha from Sagar, Madhya Pradesh, and Mathura, circa February 2014, was to be just a stopover. Official records suggest the same: Yadav was given permission to stage a protest at Jawahar Bagh for two days.
The plan, Mint learns, was to head to Jantar Mantar in New Delhi soon after.
Yadav never left.
What began as a protest rally comprising not more than 200 people turned into a self-sufficient mega residential complex (according to police estimates, Jawahar Bagh, till Thursday evening, housed at least 2,500 people) that even sported a flag of its own. People recall seeing trucks going in and unloading provisions on a daily basis.
“Initially, there were only a few houses—but slowly construction increased. At the entrance, they built a huge hut, which was always well-lit and could house at least 100 people at a time. Children were trained in warfare—and they even conducted parades on the road that led to the settlement," says Captan Singh, a clerk in the nearby district court.
The road Singh is referring runs adjacent to the police superintendent’s office. For almost two-and-a-half years, the SBSS ran amok—and the administration watched. And with government inaction, the SBSS just grew in strength.
Local journalists claim that the city magistrate was once help captive by the SBSS and roughed up. Why? “Well, because they could do it," said a journalist with a Hindi daily who asked not to be identified.
How 200 people became 2,500 is perhaps the most intriguing sub-plot in the SBSS story. Who were these people who willingly became part of a banana republic set up by a man who harboured dreams of a Bose-led Azad Hind? What was their motivation to take up arms and die for an idea so bizarre?
“When one comes in contact with a self-styled leader, what you are actually looking for is a guiding figure, one who will take care of you, sort out your problems. It’s a desire which is exploited by self-styled godmen," says G.R. Golechcha, a psychiatrist at Kailash Hospital, Noida.
Sometimes, he adds, followers are lured through miracles; other times, they are attracted by blessings and riches; and “sometimes the utopia promised is political".
What that means is simple: Once part of a group, there are several incentives, ranging from positive affirmation from those around to even attention from the leaders that keep people going—and this is what seems to have happened in this case.
One of the earliest tricks Yadav used to incentivize people to join him was to sell subsidized sugar—and there were more than a few takers.
“Sugar then was ₹ 45/kg, but he was selling it at ₹ 20/kg and I remember everyone went in hordes then (to buy the sugar)," says Nirman Yadav, a fruit-seller in the area. Some stayed on.
While the sugar stunt seems to have worked initially in drawing some of the local population, most people who eventually made the park their home migrated from other states seeking a better life.
Shekhar Singh, a resident of Jail Colony and an engineering graduate from the town’s BSA College of Engineering & Technology, who claims to have spent time inside the settlement, says most people were from states such as Bihar, Jharkhand and Chhattisgarh. “A lot of these people had lost money due to bad harvests—and with a steady flow of grocery and other essentials (in the enclave), life was easy for them here," he says.
Yadav offered them a clever cocktail, marrying facts with the promise of self-governance and the lure of entitlements.
Drawing a link between the political overlapping of several new cult-like groups that have sprung up in the recent past, sociologist Radhika Chopra says, “Many of these leaders are not talking about religious practices but rather political rights; the right to land, the right to reservation, etc."
The event that finally led to the end of the SBSS is perhaps rather telling of the group’s genesis: a struggle for food and livelihood.
It was 15 March. The horticulture department had sent a team to harvest potatoes it has sown in Jawahar Bagh. The SBSS reacted violently, forcing the team to retreat. The potatoes, they claimed, were theirs. “All food grown here is ours," they reportedly contended.
Already under pressure from the Allahabad high court to act, the state government decided it had put up with the SBSS for long enough—and acted.
The end was ugly—and possibly avoidable.
The police claim they had no intention to use force and had only retaliated in response to a completely unanticipated attack. They claim the SBSS was well-armed and prepared.
Late on Saturday evening, the state police chief announced that Yadav was dead.
And with him, died the utopia he promised his followers.
Nikita Doval contributed to this story.
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