In the remote village of Eramangi, nestled deep within Chhattisgarh’s Bhairamgarh town, villagers had been pleading for two years for a bridge—a lifeline to help them cross swelling streams during the monsoons. Their requests fell on deaf ears. Left with no alternative, they came together and constructed a makeshift bridge using their own limited resources.
Nearby, in Dangol, a similar struggle sparked hope when Mukesh Chandrakar’s YouTube channel, Bastar Junction, highlighted the village's plight.
Inspired by his work, the villagers of Eramangi turned to Mukesh, sending him a video on WhatsApp that detailed their two-year battle. Within days of his report, their voices were amplified. The result: a Rs 10 lakh budget was sanctioned to build a proper bridge.
It was moments like these that defined Mukesh Chandrakar’s work—giving a voice to the voiceless and holding power to account, often at great personal risk.
In the heart of Chhattisgarh’s dense forests, where roads often lead to silence and stories are buried under layers of neglect, Mukesh Chandrakar, a 32-year-old journalist, carved a fearless path often silenced by fear and oppression. His life, however, came to a tragic and abrupt end—allegedly at the hands of his relatives, enraged by a report he had published.
The main suspect in plotting Mukesh Chandrakar's murder is believed to be his distant relative, Suresh Chandrakar, who works as a contractor. He was apprehended in Hyderabad on Sunday night.
A Fearless Journalist in Chhattisgarh’s Heartland
Two weeks before his death, Mukesh’s investigative report on corruption surrounding a 52-km road aired on NDTV. The road remained in disrepair despite substantial funds being allocated for its construction. His expose prompted the Jagdalpur Public Works Department to launch an investigation into the alleged irregularities—a revelation that may have sealed his fate.
Mukesh had built something extraordinary: Bastar Junction, a YouTube channel that became a beacon of truth in the heart of Bastar’s dense forests.
With a mic in hand and conviction in his heart, Mukesh unearthed stories that no one dared to tell— tales of corruption eating into development projects, the resilience of tribal communities, and the hidden complexities of a region grappling with violence.
“He stood for the core values of journalism,” said Anurag Dwary, NDTV’s regional editor. “We might not solve the India-Pakistan issue from newsrooms, but we can make a real difference by highlighting the lack of basic facilities,” he said, adding that Mukesh “was precisely doing that—bringing attention to what truly matters for the people.”
Launched in May 2021, Bastar Junction promised “no unnecessary turns or speed breakers, just a path filled with facts and truth.” Today, with over 1.6 lakh subscribers, the channel stands as a testament to Mukesh Chandrakar’s fearless journalism.
Exposing Corruption and Apathy
Mukesh never chased sensational stories; he sought the truth. Asad Ashraf, a fellow journalist, who first met him in 2015 while covering a story on CRPF officials in Chhattisgarh, described Mukesh as deeply passionate. “He never wanted to join a mainstream channel in Delhi. Despite the challenges of journalism in the hinterlands, he never gave up,” Ashraf said.
Ashraf, still grappling with the news of his friend’s tragic demise, said, “He never chased exclusive news, but the right news. He was committed to the truth, no matter the cost.”
For Mukesh, journalism wasn’t just a profession—it was a mission to expose corruption, give voice to tribal communities, and document the untold stories of a region often silenced by violence and neglect. His investigative reporting tackled issues ranging from government apathy to tribal displacement, all while shedding light on the human cost of insurgency in the area.
In one striking report, he showed villagers risking their lives to obtain salt. “The country has reached the moon,” Mukesh remarked with frustration, “but here, a village puts its life at stake for salt.” The video showed villagers using oversized utensils as makeshift boats to cross a dangerous river for basic rations. Despite multiple pleas to two Chief Ministers, the villagers had received no assistance—not even a simple boat.
In Gangaloor, the journalist stumbled upon a waterlogged school campus while on another assignment. The classrooms were crumbling, with two classes squeezed into one room, and walls plastered with government slogans promising repairs that never came. “The ministers responsible for catering to these schools send their children to international schools while playing with the future of these kids,” Mukesh remarked in the video.
In Pidiya, one of India’s richest iron ore regions, Mukesh documented how residents still lacked access to clean drinking water despite the area generating significant government revenue.
In Mutvendi village, he humanised the tragedy of a six-month-old girl killed in crossfire between Naxal insurgents and police. The child’s death became a haunting reminder of the collateral damage borne by innocent tribal communities. Mukesh captured the heartbreak of the villagers, who erected a memorial for the girl with irregular-sized stones stacked together, with a wide stone in the middle yet to be inscribed with her name.
The memorial built in Mutvendi village
Voice of the voiceless
Mukesh Chandrakar also reported the small but profound injustices that often went unnoticed. He told stories of villages which had been ignored for decades, such as Paalnaar, a village under Naxal control that finally saw its first voting booth in 20 years during the last Lok Sabha elections of 2024.
His work brought to light the wrongful imprisonment of tribal people accused of being Naxal insurgents. In a region fraught with insurgent violence and heavy-handed state responses, his investigative reporting amplified the anguish of affected families.
He reported on villagers’ deaths that were either ignored by the mainstream media outlets or went unregistered entirely, erasing these tragedies from official records.
Chandrakar was fearless, even when it came to defending the very profession that eventually cost him his life.
When four journalists were arrested for exposing illegal sand mining in Konta, Mukesh reported on their plight. Drugs were allegedly planted in their vehicle, and crucial CCTV footage mysteriously vanished. “It is important to stand for these journalists because we turn to them when snubbed by the system,” he declared in his video.
A Life Remembered
Mukesh’s death left a void among his friends and colleagues. Asad Ashraf recalled Mukesh’s unwavering support after Ashraf faced accusations on national television. “Arnab Goswami had called me a terrorist for questioning aspects of the police version of the Batla House encounter,” Ashraf said. “Mukesh called immediately, offering his support and expressing sorrow that I had to endure such accusations.”
Vikas Tiwari, who runs the YouTube channel Bastar Talkies, had known Mukesh closely for over a decade. “We started our YouTube channels around the same time, and with his grit, Mukesh managed to stay true to the vision of documenting Bastar’s struggles and resilience,” he said.
Sharing a fond memory, Tiwari recalled, "We were once covering a protest and had taken shelter in a tent that night. Around midnight, Mukesh woke me up, saying, 'Dada,' as he always called me, 'it’s your birthday, get up!'”
Mukesh was sitting with a cake in the middle of nowhere. “I still don’t know where he managed to find a cake in such a remote location,” Tiwari said, his voice tinged with admiration. The moment wasn’t just about celebrating a birthday; it was a reflection of Mukesh’s ability to bring warmth even in the most challenging circumstances.
His colleagues remember him as the fearless voice who always took challenges head-on, and yet, never lost his sense of humor or humility. "Whatever task was handed to him, he always did it with a smile," his NDTV editor Dwary recalled. "I remember once noticing he had a habit of wearing a chunni (scarf) during his piece-to-camera. I teased him about it, saying, ‘Mukesh, you’re a journalist—time to project a more professional image!’”
Dwary laughed as he remembered Mukesh's reaction. "He chuckled and brushed it off, but the next time I saw him on camera, the chunni was gone."
