Mandāwali madness - mob violence during an OpenStreetMap survey

This year, I had started surveying Mandāwali on a regular basis. The results looked quite satisfying and I was eager to do more.

I almost exclusively use Vespucci for editing, so my survey involves standing in front of each building for a few minutes while I type out the address, number of building levels, etc.

That - in addition to me wearing a reusable respirator and a hat - tends to attract some attention.

It's quite common during such surveys for people to ask me about what I'm doing. I'm usually happy to explain, and everyone I met so far had been satisfied with my explanations. I'd often show them the data on Organic Maps and suggest that they install it.

This time, however, I ran into a really problematic person.

My survey that day started a little later than usual. As I was in a hurry and the sun was setting, I forgot to put on the OSM India T-shirt which I usually wear on surveys.

Around 18:35, I started surveying this segment of Durgā Gali a.k.a. Durgā Mārg - https://www.openstreetmap.org/way/994848368

Like most Indian "colony" streets, it was fairly narrow, with a carriageway not even 2 meters wide. As I added addresses and levels for two buildings, I could feel some people staring at me. As usual, I waited for them to make up their mind to speak to me.

As I surveyed my third building, I could see a woman staring at me from behind the gate. As I was moving on, a man came out of the house and said something along the lines of, "Hey, you, what are you doing?"

He had crew-cut grey hair, seemed to be in his fifties, and was wearing a rustic white undershirt and dhoti. Let's call him "Mr. Man". ¹¹ That's what TigerFrost often calls male game mobs and NPCs 😅

I was so irked by his manner of speaking that I ignored him entirely, and silently moved on to surveying the building across the street.

I could feel ²² Or maybe I just caught a glimpse of him from under my hat. Mr. Man looking incredulously at me as I finished surveying the opposite building, then walked a few steps to survey the adjacent building. A man was standing outside this one, who asked me in a friendly manner about what I was doing.

As I began explaining it to him, Mr. Man loudly demanded from the porch of his house, "Before you answer him, I want you to answer me!"

I gestured and said, "Sure, join us."

"NO, YOU COME HERE AND EXPLAIN IT TO ME!"

Somehow, he still ended up walking over. But whenever I tried to say something, he'd shout over it and cut me off.

"I'm making a map—"
"WHAT IS THIS MAP FOR?!"
"It's to help fire services, delivery drivers etc reach you—"
"THOSE MAPS ARE ALREADY MADE, SO WHY ARE YOU MAKING ANOTHER ONE? WHAT DEPARTMENT ARE YOU FROM?"
"I'm not from any government department, I'm a volunteer for a project called OpenStreetMap—"
"DO YOU HAVE ANY ID CARD? SHOW IT TO ME!"
"You don't need an ID card to—"
"OF COURSE YOU NEED AN ID CARD! HOW CAN YOU GO AROUND TAKING PHOTOS AND VIDEOS WITHOUT AN ID?"
"Excuse me? Who took any photos or videos?"

I tried for a few more moments, but I could see that this person was neither willing to listen nor to let me speak to the others. But the others were not willing to shut him up and let me speak, either. I'm assuming he was a well-known figure in the area.

Seeing that there was no point in further discussion, I decided to walk away. But he grabbed onto my waist bag from the side, yelled at people to hold me and to bring rope to tie me up.

That was the last straw for me.

I don't know if this was when I took out my can of pepper spray from the bag, or if I had been clutching it already - but I looked back to see a number of people trying to hold me, and sprayed a number of them square in the eyes. They immediately dropped to their knees, clutching their faces. One was trying to bear hug me from the rear - I reached behind my head, sprayed him in the face, and sprang free.

A few steps later, I suddenly fell to the ground.

I wasn't sure if I had just tripped by myself, or if someone else had tripped me. As I tried to collect my bearings, a crowd gathered around me. Someone snatched my phone out of my hand.

Even though I was on the ground, a number of women continued to hit me with sticks and some men took the odd kick at me. In the adrenaline of the moment, I could barely feel any pain - I merely gestured at them in an annoyed way, as if to say "Hey, what the hell man, I'm already on the ground…?"

I got up and was taken to the porch of Mr. Man's residence, where I sat down and a crowd of 20-30 people formed a wall around me.

Some continued to hit me. To Mr. Man's credit, he repeatedly told the crowd to stop doing that, and eventually they stopped. It was no great deed, for he did incite the crowd in the first place too…but it certainly was something.

Some tried to snatch my bag away, others demanded to see its contents. Many were shooting videos and adding commentary.

"You've made a big mistake spraying at us!" some yelled at me angrily. The ignorant idiots thought it was "poison gas". Mr. Man accused me (loud enough for the crowd) of "coming prepared by wearing a mask." People wanted to know why I was carrying pepper spray, but weren't prepared to believe my reasons.

Some in the crowd demanded to see my ID. I only had a PAN card at the moment, which didn't satisfy them. Accusations of me being "a terrorist" began to fly around.

I had scratches all over and a large gash on the back of my right hand. My shins were covered in dust. My T-shirt was torn up beyond repair. There was blood dripping down the side of my head.

My throat was unusually dry. I asked for some water, but was refused.

I repeatedly asked where the police was. The crowd twisted that to mean, "he says 'let the police come, they can't do anything to me.'"

(Perhaps I should have pretended to plead with them to not call the cops? The "reverse-psychology" defence where the tortoise pleads with its captors not to throw it into the river…)

Finally, a lone policeman arrived, asked me for my name, and took me away. I was quite relieved for his presence.

The streets were packed with staring people, all gathered to look at me as though I were some kind of celebrity. Quite a few were taking photos or videos, which I - in my nearly shirtless state - quite hated. I kept my head down and hurried on.

As I sat in the back of the police car (an Ertiga?), a hundred people seemed to teem around the car windows, seemingly desperate for a glance at my face, a few still attempting to take photos or videos.

The residents refused to let the cops leave until the local cops turn up, for they believed that the PCR cops would just drop me off somewhere.

Finally, the residents allowed the car to leave for the Mandawali police station.

At the police station, our statements were heard, and many questions were asked. The police talked some sense into the residents - does he really seem like a terrorist to you? And on what authority do you ask him for his ID?

I was taken to a hospital and my wounds were documented (to make a Medico-Legal Certificate) and treated. (I was also asked to use an alcometer for the first time in my life. Scored 0.0 👌)

There's much more to share, but there are more important things to discuss.

What factors could be said to have caused this? In no particular order…

1. Me wearing a respirator and hat, looking very different from most people. It's also possible that the respirator may have hindered communication - I could have taken it off for a bit.

2. The public mindset in the aftermath of the 2025 Pahalgam terror attack - https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/2025_Pahalgam_attack - against the backdrop of the ruling party pushing Islamophobia and deepening religious divides for over 11 years.

   Maybe I shouldn't have ignored Mr. Man? But I'm not entirely convinced that would have changed the outcome - he seemed to be no less angry when he first spoke to me. I suspect that his wife (staring at me from the house) had been the one telling him that I was taking photos or videos…and it all went downhill from there.

3. The gullibility, ignorance, ego, lack of critical thinking, and unwillingness to listen among the people in this part of Durgā Gali.

   I'd hesitate to tar all of Mandāwali with the same brush - not two streets away is a Muslim community where the people have without fail been exceedingly polite, humble, and friendly to me.

4. Me forgetting that I could call some contacts who lived in nearby streets.

This is the latest in a long line of tense incidents I've been in since I started contributing to OpenStreetMap in 2016, but the only one in which I actually faced any violence.

The others were all when I was working with Médecins Sans Frontières (a.k.a. MSF, or Doctors Without Borders). In all these situations, I carried a letter of information signed by the local police. In most situations, I had an ASHA nearby, if not accompanying me.

Many people - especially those who saw the extent of my injuries - wanted the culprits punished. I myself was prepared to battle it out in court, despite my friends and family warning me that it would inconvenience me a fair bit.

That is, until my lawyer friend pointed out -

1. "It's not an open-and-shut case."

2. It's going to be impossible to identify the assailants unless there are any CCTV cameras in that street.

   (I don't think I saw any, and I'm usually on the lookout for them.)

3. Even if we do get them punished, it's not going to fix society like you want it to.
4. You have an additional option - you can choose to get them all locked up for one night.
5. The police has probably already asked them to pay ₹10k or so.

The thing is, what was actually important to me was -

1. That they understand who I am, what I do, and why.
2. That I be able to continue surveying in the area - which requires preventing further ill-will and escalation.
3. That these people understand their mistakes to avoid repeating them with others.

Thus, I chose not to file a case nor get them locked up. But I very much wished to speak to them. Probably with my lawyer friend in tow, who is a much more patient person than I, and is great at mediation.

A few days later, I visited Durgā Gali again with the intention of speaking to Mr. Man, this time with some relatives and friends in tow.

His wife answered the door. They were (of course) fearful that we were there to retaliate, but we reassured them that we were just there to talk. We thanked them for protecting me from long-term injury and death, and they presented their side of events.

They claimed that I never responded to their questions about my work. At first I was inclined to believe that my soft-spoken responses were drowned out by my respirator and the man's habitually loud manner of talking…but once I got home, I realized it didn't make sense. I definitely remember him responding to my points (even if he cut me off) - if he hadn't heard me, how could he have responded?

One part of their story - which I have to admit was accurate, and I had forgotten about - was that I had, in my frustration with the conversation, loudly called him a madman a few times. While he said he ignored that, it's clear to me that it certainly didn't help matters either. I should've kept a better check on my emotions and tried to pacify and soothe him, rather than losing my patience and walking away.

Once the discussion wound down, they insisted that I drink a glass of water to make up for refusing me earlier, which was a sweet gesture. I touched their feet in respect, bowed with a smile and a namaste to everyone in goodbye, and we parted amicably.

Phew! I was so scared of matters escalating again. Relief.

The last thing I want is for people to be turned away from contributing to OpenStreetMap.

I'm absolutely not stopping surveying. Not ever. Not even in poor areas, which are often unplanned and thus need good maps the most. I'm also looking into bringing some friends along to have a dialogue with Mr. Man, to get him to understand my work and clear my name with the locals.

Keep in mind this is India, a semi-hellhole. And the people in that street were rural bumpkins. And even the majority of people in that street were understanding and cooperative, until that one man stepped in to stir up shit. And I wear that same hat and respirator all over the country, any time I'm outdoors. And the terror attacks put most people on edge, especially senile old fellows who probably watch way too much sensationalist social media slop.

The main factor in my unpreparedness to handle this incident was not realizing that things could escalate to this extent.

• That someone could be so incapable of listening.
• That someone could so trivially draw up an emotional mob.
• That walking away (which had worked for me until that point) would be interpreted as "attempting to flee" and an admission of guilt.
• That using pepper spray could be interpreted as "poison gas" and "terrorism".

I guess that particular problem has been tackled - for me through the experience, and for others through reading my experience.

Since the incident, I've received a lot of suggestions, and I've had a few ideas of my own. I'm listing them here.

They're roughly ordered in a defence-in-depth manner, such that you use one when the previous one fails.

Like me, you may not agree with or apply each one. That's okay, do as many as you feel okay with.