thoughts from a war-zone

Our driver points towards a lamp post in a village on the way to Ramgarh, and casually tells us, “The Naxals tied an informer to that post, and chopped him up. Then they burned down his house.” He shows us another semi-broken house just beside the post. “Luckily, it rained that night. Only half the house burned down.”

Gadchiroli district is full of such tales. Instances of naxal brutality are equally matched by reports of police torture. Such as the two fishermen in Markana village, who were shot down after the C-60 (anti-Naxal Task Force) commandos found them fishing illegally.

This eastern district of Maharastra, designated the ‘Red Bastion’ of the state, has witnessed a drastic rise in naxal activities over the last five years, from 55 cases in 2001 to 102 cases in 2007. At the same time, attacks on police patrol parties have gone up from six to 30 during the same period, reaching an all-time high of 35 in 2006. This rising phenomenon of a direct assault on the state machinery only goes to show that left-wing extremism within the district, far from being contained, is strengthening itself.

Gadchiroli’s inaccessible terrain, 90% of which is considered forest land, and its continuous boundary with Chattisgarh have proved to be a blessing for the movement. Locals recall how the movement began in the early 80’s, when the People’s War Group (PWG) leaders came from Andhra Pradesh. Sister Avila, an advocate from Ghot, makes a distinction between the movement then, and its present scenario. “The Naxal movement then was definitely working for the tribal population. It was only because of their pressure that wages for tendu (Beedi leaf) collection increased from Rs. 2 to Rs. 150 per bundle. However, most naxals now are not helping the villagers in any way.”

In a sense, it appears that Sister Avila’s analysis may be true. Most villagers in the interior complain of lack of accessibility to bigger towns. Raju, a Maria tribal in the village of Vasimundi, says the biggest problem here is lack of roads. “We either commute by foot or by cycles”, he says, adding that politicians and officials rarely visit them.

The insurgents in the district have certainly not helped the situation either. The brutal murder of Border Roads Organisation (BRO)’s engineer, M Ganesh, in January 2006 sent shockwaves around the district. Naxals regularly force workers to stop road construction, and lay land-mines to ambush the para-military forces. It is their way to prevent further state incursions into what they term as ‘Dandakaranya’, a huge tract of forest and tribal land across four states.

However, the state’s slate is equally, if not more, blemished. Reports of police brutality continue to filter in, though absent in the local media. The C-60’s soldiers are notorious for their beatings and interrogation methods. “The adivasis are more afraid of the police than the Naxals,” according to a health worker in Poyarkothi village. C-60 sources told us how they used third degree torture methods to extract information. The state naturally denies any such practices; however, District Judge G.M. Kubde recalls how six policemen were acquitted in 1996 in a case of custodial death due to lack of evidence.

In the middle of this war, villagers and their development aspirations are quashed. It was surprising to see how every villager we met had voted. Though most had forgotten who they had voted for, it came as a shock to discover the exercising of this basic democratic right – in essence, most villagers still brew hopes that the state will bring them development.

Gadchiroli is a battleground of two potent forces – one backed by the state uses all its force to contain left wing extremism, and the other uses under-development and subjugation by the state as a motive and the terrain to its advantage. The tribals of the land are sandwiched between, as in every other war.