The Saga of Satyendra Dubey

Shabnam Minwalla, A Senior Journalist

On the last Sunday of November, newspaper readers in the country woke up to a six-column headline and a dismal sense of deja vu.
`Whistle-blower said don't name me. Govt did. He was shot dead' told a shocking tale. But although the details were new, the essence was familiarrecounting the hopeless struggle of an individual against a venal,all-powerful system. And although Bollywood gives its gun-toting vigilantes a fighting chance, most of us know that reality is much more dismissive of lone crusaders.

Despite the appalled reactions--everything ranging from the predictable `This country is really going to the dogs' to the resigned `There is no way out of this mess'the story seemed headed for the attic like so many others of its ilk. Except that the Indian Express decided to follow up on its exclusive and managed to uncover even more horrific details. And that IITians around the world came together to voice their anger over the plight of their Institute-mate. Indeed, the murder of Satyendra Dubey seemed to break through the wall of apathy and force people to speak up.
Behind the death of the thin, bespectacled engineer on November 27, 2003, lies the story of a remarkable life. Born in Shahpur village in Bihar, five kilometers from the nearest telephone pole, Satyendra was the son of a clerk in a sugar factory. He topped his village school in the Std X exams and is famous as its only alumnus to have gained admission in an IIT. The earnest youngster got into the Department of Civil Engineering at IIT (Kanpur) in 1990 and, despite initial problems with language and grades he graduated with excellent marks.
Although an array of glittering tomorrowsanything from a scholarship at an American university to a high-paying private sector job in an Indian metrobeckoned, Satyendra opted to work for "his country". So in 1996 he joined the Ministry of Surface Transport as an Assistant Executive Engineer.
Of course, cynics could well have sneered that this was the most lucrative option of them all. But Satyendra proved them wrong four years later when he angrily turned down his first cash-stuffed envelopeand with that the opportunity to spruce up his parents' humble, hay-strewn house, buy a few gadgets for himself, and sweeten life for his six siblings. It was, however, after he was put in charge of a 60-km, 450-crore stretch of the Golden Quadrilateral Project that he encountered full-blown, institutionalised corruption.
Soon after his transfer to Koderma in June 2002, Satyendra realised just how deep the rot had spreadand just how much dross was being foisted on the country in the name of the Golden Quadrilateral. He happened upon sloppy project reports, contracts awarded on the basis of forged documents, huge advances doled out to contractors and rampant subletting to petty contractors who lacked the technical ability to work on this mega-project. And everybody, from government engineers to MNC construction companies to local thugs seemed involved in what he described as a "loot of public money".
Like so many of us who consider ourselves honest and superior, Satyendra could well have satisfied his conscience by refusing to participate in the corrupt activities. But the 31-year-old felt compelled to go one step further and tackle the mess. On November 11, 2002 he sent a letter to the Prime Minister, describing the nightmarish turn that this dream project had taken.
Of course, Satyendra realised he was challenging dangerous elements--but he understood the functioning of government well enough to know that an unsigned letter would go straight into the waste bin. So putting his life and faith in the hands of the PMO, he attached his name on a separate sheet of paper and requested that his identity be kept a secret.
That this faith was misplaced soon became apparent. The PMO didn't bother either to investigate the charges of corruption or to protect the identity of its courageous informant. Indeed, Satyendra's letter yielded only negative results--threats from those he had complained against and a reprimand from his bosses at NHAI for writing to the PM. For in an act of murderous negligence, the PMO handed over both the letter and the sheet with Satyendra's particulars to the Ministry of Road Transport and Highways. There, at least eight officials scanned it before passing it on to the National Highway Authority of India. Which was why it was hardly surprising that the informant's identity was leaked to the culpable contractors and officials in Koderma.
Little wonder then that lots of feathers were ruffled and financial interests threatened when it transpired that Satyendrawho had meanwhile been transferred to Gaya in Biharwas to return to Koderma as one of the big bosses. As project director he would be in charge of releasing funds for an extensive swathe of the under-construction highway. And someone decided that there was just too much to lose.
At 3am on November 27, 2003, Satyendra arrived at the Gaya railway station from a trip, only to find that his car was nowhere in sight. Upon calling home and finding that the Tata Sumo had encountered starting trouble (possibly a sabotage), he decided to take a rickshaw. Somewhere along the way he was shot dead by unidentified assailants.
As is routinely the case with such inconvenient investigations, it's very likely that this murder case would have been relegated to the dump of unsolved cases in Bihar. Except that something about this story touched a chord of indignation in the country. Perhaps it was the fact that Satyendra was a golden boy from IIT; perhaps it was the heartbreaking photograph of his parents in their bare, impoverished house; perhaps it was the initial indifference of the PMO which excused itself by saying, "Numerous letters come in everyday.."
The outcome of that collective anger is remarkable: almost 50,000 citizens have signed a petition demanding action from the government, the media is closely monitoring the twists and turns taken by an increasingly bizarre investigation. The PMO and the Government went into an extensive coverup mode after nine days. Most heartening is the widespread outpouring of support and sorrow from a cross-section of society. "Make all those rascal contractors sleep on the road next to each other and run them over by a roadroller," wrote an agitated individual to the Indian Express last month, voicing a common sentiment. Concurred another, "Every official who signed that letter and refused to act should be sacked. The PMO must be made to apologise publicly."
Indeed, it is important to punish the guiltynot only those shadowy individuals who pulled the trigger but also the officials who, while ignoring his request for confidentiality and passing around his letter, virtually signed Satyendra's death warrant. But while we demand accountability from others, we also need to acknowledge our own responsibility, to understand that everytime we remain silent when a friend slips a fifty to a hawaldar or brags about pataoing a customs officer, we are contributing to the forces that killed Satyendra.
In a country starved of icons, Satyendra Dubey stands for much more than impressive batting figures or silver-screen charm, he stands for the realisation that every individual has a role to play in the battle against corruption. As one letter-writer pointed out, "If we do nothing beyond writing a few angry letters to the media or the PMO, the deeply-entrenched mafia will be back in a short while. It is time we united and did something more concrete." This realisation can achieve much more than avenging a single deathit can save lives of the Satyendras of tomorrow.

	Born on 11th of March, 1973 in Shahpur village in Siwan district of Bihar about 15 kilometers from the birthplace of Dr Rajendra Prasad, first president of independent India. Father: Sh Bageshwari Dubey, a clerk in the nearby Sugar factory earning a small salary. Mother: Smt Lalmati Dubey, housewife.
Brother: Dhananjay, doing B. Tech. from Institute of Technology, Banaras Hindu University. Sisters: 5 sisters. Two sisters Suman and Manju who are elder to him are married. One younger sister Pushpa is also married. Two younger sisters Kusum and Bebi are doing their graduation from Delhi University.
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