Bandit Queen's Leading Role

AN air of expectancy hung over the thousands of villagers who had been waiting since dawn in a field outside the dusty town of Bhind to witness the surrender of India's infamous Bandit Queen.

As the police and dignitaries took their place, Phoolan Devi, dressed in a khaki uniform, a sacred red bandanna tied around her head, approached the two portraits placed on the dais.

The first was of Durga, avatar of Kali, the Hindu goddess of destruction. The second was of Mahatma Gandhi, freedom fighter and preacher of non-violence.

Phoolan placed a garland of flowers on each portrait in turn. Then walking over to Arjun Singh, the chief minister of Madhya Pradesh state, her rifle still slung over shoulder and gun belt across her chest, did the same to him. In an act of humility, Phoolan bent down and touched his feet with her forehead to acknowledge the deal that had been done. Finally, turning to the crowds, she raised the rifle over her head and placed it and her gun belt before the two portraits. Phoolan wanted the world to know she was surrendering to Durga and the Mahatma, not to the state: she wanted to appear defiant until the end.

Although the theatrical style of her surrender on February 12, 1983, was in keeping with the legend of the Bandit Queen, Phoolan Devi was not the beautiful outlaw she was rumoured to be by a gullible press that had never set eyes on her.

Beneath her black, bushy hair, a round, boyish face stared at the crowds; a face bearing the scars of a lifetime of humiliation, exploitation and violence.

For the last two years she had wreaked her revenge among the desolate ravines of the Chambal, Yamuna and Betwa river valleys against those who humiliated her, who had abused her sexuality and low-caste status and who had tried to hunt her down.