Abujhmarh: From Shadows of Maoist Insurgency to the Promise of Inclusive Development

 

The recent encounter in Chhattisgarh’s Narayanpur district, where security forces neutralized 27 members of the banned Communist Party of India (Maoist)—including its general secretary Nambala Keshava Rao alias Basavaraju—marks a historic shift in the troubled region of Abujhmarh. For decades, this forested stretch has been a bastion of Maoist insurgency, cut off from the mainstream. Now, with the Maoist influence visibly waning, a new dawn seems possible for the tribal communities who have long suffered in silence.

But while the elimination of top insurgents is a significant milestone, the real question now is: Will this opportunity lead to genuine development, or simply replace one form of exploitation with another?

 

Living Under the Shadow of Maoists: A Personal Account

I come from Kukkameta, a small village in the Bhamragad tehsil of Maharashtra’s Gadchiroli district—one of the areas engulfed by Maoist violence. For us, the absence of Maoists means more than just safety. It means the long-denied promise of roads, schools, healthcare, and digital connectivity might finally become a reality.

Growing up, I vividly remember how development was paralyzed due to the fear of Maoist retaliation. There were no roads, no schools, and no hospitals. Even basic amenities for living were absent. Government officials, despite being posted in the region and drawing special allowances, were often absent or inactive, citing the risk posed by Maoists.

Basic infrastructure, such as bridges over rivers, was actively opposed by insurgents. In my school days, crossing the river to reach Bhamragad was a daily ordeal—we relied on a fragile Donga (a small wooden boat), often risking our lives during the monsoon season. A slight misstep, a sudden surge of water, and we could have drowned. But there were no other options. The Donga drivers, usually locals, navigated these perilous waters with skill, but the danger was always present.

Maoists resisted connectivity because roads and bridges would bring the state closer and diminish their control. In protecting their own strongholds, they deprived generations of tribal families of progress and opportunity.

 

The Myth of Tribal Contentment

One of the most misguided beliefs perpetuated by outsiders is that tribal people do not want development. They are content with their forest lifestyle. In reality, they were simply isolated—denied access to education, healthcare, and opportunities.

That’s no longer the case. Today, tribal youth are attending schools and colleges. They want to be doctors, engineers, civil servants, and professors. They are eager to step into the modern world, not by abandoning their culture, but by building a future that honors their identity while embracing opportunity.

The desire for progress is real and visible. In villages where schools have recently opened or mobile networks have reached, the energy among young people is unmistakable. The digital world is no longer an alien concept. The younger generation aspires to participate in and contribute to the nation-building process.

Abujhmarh: The Land of Paradoxes

Abujhmarh, which literally means “the unknown hills,” stretches across Narayanpur, Bijapur, Bastar, and Dantewada districts of Chhattisgarh and into parts of Gadchiroli in Maharashtra. During British rule, it remained constitutionally “excluded” and administratively isolated. Post-independence, the neglect continued.

Till most recently, many villages in Abujhmarh do not feature on official maps. The region has been perennially deprived of state presence. It became a natural refuge for Maoists who began infiltrating in the 1980s, turning the area into what they called a “liberated zone”—free not for the people, but for armed insurgents.

The lack of basic governance made Abujhmarh a fertile ground for extremism. Schools, health centers, and ration shops—if they existed at all—remained dysfunctional. The forest pathways, which were the only means of access, further reinforced the isolation. Government outreach was more symbolic than substantial.

And yet, Abujhmarh is rich, not just in culture and biodiversity, but also in mineral resources. High-grade iron ore, forests, and other natural riches lie untapped beneath its surface. The paradox is painful: a region rich in resources, inhabited by some of the country’s poorest communities.

 

The Lure of Mining and the Risk of New Exploitation

With Maoist influence receding, mining companies might increasingly turn their gaze to Abujhmarh. In the Surjagarh hills of Gadchiroli district—also a tribal heartland—iron ore extraction has already begun. While such projects promise employment, they also pose serious threats to the environment and the socio-cultural fabric of tribal communities.

Locals have been protesting against mining operations, fearing the loss of their land, forests, and way of life. Without proper checks, such development may enrich only a few intermediaries, leaving the majority more vulnerable than before.

It is crucial to remember that forests are not just resources for tribal people; they are integral to their identity, their culture, and their spiritual beliefs. The hilltops, the rivers, the sacred groves—these are not just geographical features but repositories of memory and meaning.

Unregulated mining could displace entire villages, contaminate water sources, and decimate wildlife. Jobs promised are often temporary and low-paying, while the environmental damage is long-lasting. If not managed with utmost care, mining may become the new face of oppression.

 

A Call for Inclusive and Just Development

The future of Abujhmarh must be shaped not by bulldozers, but by community voices. Any development that takes place here must be inclusive, equitable, and rooted in justice. The Panchayats (Extension to Scheduled Areas) Act, 1996 (PESA) and the Forest Rights Act, 2006 were specifically enacted to protect tribal rights. These laws must be implemented sincerely, not bypassed for corporate interests.

PESA empowers gram sabhas (village councils) in scheduled areas to make decisions regarding land use, forest produce, and cultural preservation. The Forest Rights Act gives tribal communities legal ownership over forest land they have traditionally inhabited. If applied honestly, these laws can be the pillars of sustainable development. 

State governments, district administrators, and corporate entities must engage with tribal communities in true partnership. Infrastructure projects must be preceded by thorough environmental and social impact assessments, with the free, prior, and informed consent of the locals. Development must mean more than just roads and mines. It must mean schools, hospitals, clean water, secure homes, and dignity. It must preserve the tribal way of life, not erase it. The unfolding situation is historic. The decline of Maoists has given the state a chance to re-enter Abujhmarh—not with force, but with faith.

But let us be cautious. As the saying goes, “The light at the end of the tunnel could be the headlamp of an oncoming train.” If development is driven solely by profit and not by people, we risk replacing one form of oppression with another. Abujhmarh is at a crossroads. One path leads to a future of empowerment, education, and sustainable growth. The other leads to displacement, environmental degradation, and cultural loss.

Let us hope that those in power choose wisely—and that the tribal communities who have suffered silently for decades finally get to write their own destiny. Their forests, their hills, their lives—must not be the cost of our progress, but we, as a society and nation, must contribute meaningfully to the development of tribal people.