Basheerbagh firing: A journalist’s memory of a day that changed Telangana

The Basheerbagh firing on August 28, 2000, began as a routine Opposition protest but quickly turned deadly, leaving three people dead. The incident not only marked a turning point in Telangana’s political history but also left lasting memories of violence and its human cost.

It was a balmy afternoon on August 28, 2000, and it was supposed to be a routine assignment. It was yet another ‘Chalo Assembly’ event called by the Opposition parties, Congress, CPI and CPI(M). I believed it to be just another protest programme against the hike in power tariff in which the protestors raised slogans, possibly there would be a scuffle with the policemen and then they would be bundled into police vehicles and later let off by evening.

But it turned out to be a milestone in history when protestors clashed with police, leading to firing in which three were killed. The Basheerbagh firing incident will remain in the annals as it charted the birth of Telangana Rashtra Samithi (TRS) a year later, with K Chandrasekhar Rao raising a banner of revolt against the Telugu Desam Party (TDP) and the Chief Minister N Chandrababu Naidu.

The coverage of the event began on a most dull note.

I parked my scooter near the police control room and by then the reporter of The Week, Stanley Theodore, joined me. We had a smoke and then chatted with the police officers on duty for some time. The protestors were near the Basheerbagh crossroads and there were several layers of police cordons, police vehicles parked across the road blocking the way, and concertina wires and water cannons had not yet made an entry into the capital city. There were hundreds of policemen, law and order and APSP men, and women constables in good numbers.

As practically every officer on duty recognised me in those days, Stanley Theodore and I inched our way past the IT office and Nizam College Hostel and then onto the Basheerbagh crossroads, where there were several layers of policemen in riot gear. Armed policemen from the Central Police Lines (CPL) Special Armed Reserve (SAR) and APSP men were toting their .303s, SLRs, and some of them were carrying their AK-47s too.

The crowds, mostly from the CPI and CPI(M), distinguishable by their party symbol placards, could be seen raising slogans and moving ahead from Old MLA quarters road and Nizam College road. The policemen cordoned off the area and they appeared to be determined not to let the protestors break the cordon and go towards the Assembly building.

A couple of other journalists, Ch. V.M. Krishna Rao and SNCN Acharyulu (who were with Andhra Prabha when I was with Indian Express), joined me and Stanley. Going by past experiences, I decided to be behind the police cordon and not on the side of the agitators for the simple reason that if there was a lathicharge, there was every possibility of being thrashed by the policemen. But to be on the police side, there was every possibility of being injured when the agitators hurled stones. We decided we stood a better chance of being safe if we were on the police side.

The agitators were becoming aggressive minute by minute and we could see some policemen atop the Basheerbagh flyover too. Stanley and I could sense that there was going to be some violence and true to our understanding, stone hurling began all of a sudden. I was near a police vehicle in which the VHF set was crackling with messages from officers summoning more forces. That was an indication to us that something was happening. The stone pelting, which was sporadic, soon intensified and it was a rain of stones on the police. We covered our heads and ducked to save ourselves.

I could see one or two APSP men getting hit in their faces. I vividly recall the APSP jawan falling forward after he received a stone hit straight into his face and blood spurted out. There was utter pandemonium as women constables tried to hide themselves behind a bus and policemen with bamboo shields tried to protect themselves. Then came the sound of a rifle shot.

I could immediately realise that a shot had been fired. It was something like the crack of a whip amplified a hundred times. Having witnessed police firing many a time during the communal riots and also being an NCC cadet who fired .303 and .22 rifles, I sensed that it was indeed a rifle shot. As we looked out, we could see CPL-SAR personnel firing randomly into the protestors with their .303 rifles and I could also hear an SLR being fired too.

In the melee, as I looked at the crowds, I could see one of them being flung into the air and falling back. I watched horrified as people began running helter-skelter. When I turned, I could see only Stanley Theodore next to me. I could see Ravinder Reddy straddling his camera and running towards the protestors. There were repeat shots that were fired and in about 15 minutes or so, senior officers (if I recall correctly, it was Mr S Umapathi, who was then the Special Branch DCP) came rushing ahead, shouting something.

Firing ceased and as I ran towards the protestors, I could see they had stopped a Maruti 800 car and carried an injured person and put him in the back seat. The car driver was frozen with fear and the crowds were shouting at him to drive. He drove off towards Liberty side and by then I could see many injured persons being taken in vehicles and the protestors dispersed.

We gathered again after some time near the Basheerbagh roadside. By then the entire road was littered with stones and it resembled a war zone. Injured policemen were sitting on the road, while others tried to stop the bleeding. It took some time for us to realise that it was going to be a very big incident. We ran back to the control room, but information was not forthcoming at all.

Some 30 minutes later, I bumped into a Special Branch officer who was rushing into the control room. I literally buttonholed him, demanding some information. He just pointed three fingers and I could understand that three persons had died in the firing.

Those were the days when mobile phones were there but not with all of us. We still had to rush back to the office to punch out the story. I drove back to The Hindu office to brief my Chief of Bureau (CoB), late R Rajendra Prasad, about the event. He had come to know about the development and the first question he asked me was, “Srinivas. Are you alright? Hope you did not get injured?” I told him I was safe and sought some time to file the copy.

I sneaked out of the office to have a cup of tea and a smoke. When I filed the report, Mr Rajendra Prasad called me into his room and asked me to narrate what I had seen. He listened to me carefully, occasionally scribbling some points in shorthand.

Three killed in police firing, many injured in firing as well as stone pelting, was indeed a big story. We retreated to the Press Club again for our customary relaxation and it was only on the next day that Ravinder Reddy showed us the photographs he shot as the firing was taking place. With a mischievous grin, he told me, “You guys stood there petrified. I took a couple of shots before running towards the firing victims.”

It was these photos Ravinder Reddy took exactly 26 years ago that have rekindled the memories, the difficulties of reporting clashes, gathering information on the field and the excitement of hitting the front page the next day. All that was okay, but more than a quarter of a century later, I realise I was so ‘dehumanised’ that the loss of life was merely a statistic for me as a professional.

Perhaps, I still carry the burden of seeing death in all its forms, police firings, communal riots, gunshot injuries, landmine blasts, murders et al. The horrific scenes I witnessed and chronicled might have earned me some name, but after 40 years in the profession, I do feel guilty for not reacting like a human being at all.