Mukesh Chandrakar: Journalist’s murder highlights risks of reporting in small-town India

The grisly murder of American journalist Mukesh Chandrakar has highlighted the risks of reporting from some of India’s most tense areas.

Chandrakar’s body was found last week in a septic tank in the compound of a contractor he had implicated in a story about corruption in Chhattisgarh state. Police have arrested the contractor and two others in connection with the 33-year-old’s murder.

Chhattisgarh, a mineral-rich position, has witnessed an armed conflict for more than three decades and attacks by Communist rebels on security forces are popular. The Maoists, who are active in a number of Indian states, claim to be fighting for greater rights for tribal people and the rural poor under communist rule.

Chandrakar’s killing was condemned by Indian media watchdogs. Many people who knew him praised his bravery and perseverance, with others claiming that he was deeply concerned about people and would go to great lengths to report on a significant story.

His passing also sparked discussions about the difficulties faced by independent reporters in states like Chhattisgarh, where there are few job opportunities and the power balance is constantly shifting between the state, rebel groups, and powerful mining companies, who frequently work as stringers or freelancers.

Before switching to journalism in his 20s, Chandrakar was born in Basaguda, a remote village in the state. He had a history of odd jobs.

His mother, who worked hard to make ends meet, raised him after losing his father when he was still a child. He also developed up in a state where militia and rebel groups fought for supremacy.

To help support his family, he initially collected mahua flowers, which are used to make a liquor popular among tribespeople, and later worked in a garage.

Ganesh Mishra, Chandrakar’s friend, told the BBC that Chandrakar first became interested in journalism in 2013 after having conversations with friends and starting to work as one. He learnt on the job, gleaning tips from fellow journalists, and gradually developed a passion for reporting.

Before launching his own YouTube channel, Bastar Junction, he previously interned for the major media outlets. At the time of his death, the channel had around 165, 000 subscribers, a number that has since grown by about 10, 000.

Bastar is a hilly district in Chhattisgarh that is home to dense forests and is a part of India’s “red corridor,” a term for the area where the Maoist insurgency is most at risk.

Watching the videos, Chandrakar’s reporting comes off as a little melodramatic and occasionally departs from the norms of traditional reporting, such as not always granting all parties a right of reply. However, his videos highlighted details that the mainstream media frequently overlooks: reports of innocent villagers being killed in crossfire between Maoist rebels and soldiers, or tribal men being falsely accused of being insurgents and being held by the police.

His channel captured the hardships faced by locals in Bastar’s remote villages, where even basic necessities are scarce.

One video captured villagers crossing a river with groceries in tow because there isn’t a bridge, and another captured a key road that had been mined by Maoists to allegedly target security forces. His stories provided locals with a place to voice their grievances and hold government officials accountable.

Chandrakar used to also work as a” stringer” for news organisations, where his job involved providing outstation journalists with information about a story or sometimes, even chaperoning them through Maoist strongholds.

Most media outlets underpay these freelance reporters poorly, and despite doing a lot of the groundwork, they frequently don’t get enough recognition or a reputation.

A journalist who Chandrakar assisted in a sensitive story was quoted as telling the BBC how he had aided him in crossing Maoist camps and police checkpoints to access areas deep inside forests.

” It would have been impossible to access the terrain without him”, the person, who wanted to remain anonymous, said.

He described Chandrakar as a person who was enthralled by new experiences, who loved the chase, and who was proud when his actions caused change.

” He was also a deeply aspirational person. He didn’t want to be defined by his difficult life, he wanted to rise above that”, he said.

Perhaps this characteristic of Chandrakar’s has sparked some rumors about the true cause of his death. According to the police, one of the two people detained for his murder is a contractor.

There are whispers about Chandrakar’s lifestyle, which some colleagues found puzzling given the poor salaries of local journalists. Dipankar Ghose, his close friend and fellow journalist, acknowledged the difficulties of working in a profession where making difficult decisions frequently meant navigating difficult choices in a tribute.

“For me, Mukesh was the personification of bravery. I’m not going to pretend that in a universe where media organisations he [Chandrakar] worked for didn’t even pay for his petrol let alone a stable salary, sustenance wasn’t a problem, and therefore some wires weren’t crossed. But Mukesh loved journalism with a passion,” he wrote as part of a lengthy post praising Chandrakar on X.

Manisha Pande, managing editor at Newslaundry, an independent news platform, speaks about the challenges facing journalists in many small towns and cities across the country.

” There are many young, passionate journalists who are the first to report on and discover stories from their respective regions. But as a profession, we haven’t figured out how to make journalism financially sustainable for them”, she says.

Chandrakar’s murder is still under investigation, and more details about his death are expected to emerge in the coming days. However, his work continues to serve as an inspiration to many.

” I have lost a friend who was like a family member and Bastar has lost a good journalist,” says Mr. Mishra. His journalism had a lot of impact, and everyone there feels a deep sense of his loss.

*Some names in the narrative have been requested at request.