If you had asked me about Bastar ten years ago, I would have probably visualised a land badgered by the wounds from gunshots, brutal killings, distressed isolation, and crumbling infrastructure. The predominant imagery would be that of dusty, treacherous roads abandoned out of fear. Would my reading differ significantly today? Maybe not, considering how we urban denizens are cloistered in our cushy bubbles, skeptical of the Government’s claims that Maoism is now counting its last days. However, my recent visit to the trouble-ridden land has altered the way I perceive Bastar now.
In fact, the misconceptions stand shattered. The lonely roads are anything but silent, schools are ringing with the tittering of children, operational banks are providing a much-needed possibility of transactions and savings to local folks, welfare schemes are delivering what was promised to hamlets once wallowing in neglect. Behind all of this though, stands the quiet yet firm protective shield of strategic security. Today, Bastar is no longer just surviving, the inhabitants are beginning to live, to dream. With fear and anxiety fading, hope has found a home.
“Naxalism in the country is also on its last legs. In the past, over 100 districts were severely affected by this menace. However, this number has drastically reduced to just around two dozen districts today” —Narendra Modi, Prime Minister (March 2025)
It is high noon as I wrap up my interaction with Sundarraj P, the IG of Bastar region. I step into my vehicle waiting in Jagdalpur, only to be greeted by the driver, a calm, sharp-eyed, tall man from Raipur. A former Government employee, Krishan Kumar Singh was once entrusted with driving senior security officials through some of the most volatile parts of Bastar. As we headed towards Sukma, I noticed dense forests now stretched endlessly on either side. Somewhere along the winding road, Krishan ji remarks, “This stretch wasn’t always like this sir. It was a death trap; security forces dreaded passing through as Maoist ambushes were common on this road. The rogues marked their presence by instilling fear. A few years ago, a convoy was blown apart. And just ahead, an entire team was taken down in an ambush,” Krishan ji sounds animated as he points out a certain part.
The vividness with which he describes the happenings could beat any choreographed action movie sequence. “Senior officers would change number plates on their vehicles multiple times along the route, just to stay a step ahead of the informers. Every journey was peppered with high risk.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes scanning the road ahead. Then, almost with a hint of relief, he adds, “Things have changed. You can even travel at night now without worrying constantly. The condition of roads are also immensely better as the Government has been doing excellent work in the region.”
From Maoist Stronghold to Model of Development
While we are in Sukma region, we visit Badesatti, a village that has been recently declared Naxal-free, under the Elvad Panchayat Yojana, along with another village Kerlapenda about which I had read in a recent news article. This achievement comes after a significant number of Maoist cadres surrendered to security forces, citing recent Government initiatives, disillusionment with the movement and its impact on local communities. The Elvad Panchayat Yojana aims to foster development and improve lives of people in Maoist-affected areas, potentially contributing to the success of the Naxal-free declaration.
A sight awaits our arrival at Badesatti village that even a few years ago, would have been unthinkable. More than 20 people sat together, deep in discussion. Pretty piqued, I approached the mini conglomeration and enquired what was going on. “Gram sabha ki meeting chal rahi hai (It is a Gram Sabha meeting),” one of them answered.
While this was on, I notice a woman standing nearby, observing the gathering quietly. Intrigued, I walked over and gently asked her name. “Vaneeta Sodhi,” she replied. Something about her presence whetted my curiosity, and as our conversation unfolded, I discovered that Vaneeta (34) was a surrendered Maoist. That revelation compelled me to hear her story.
Once a feared Maoist area committee member, Vaneeta now walks on these same paths not with arms, but with purpose, and a deep sense of regret.
“I never thought I would see such a day in this village,” Vaneeta says, her eyes scanning the group of villagers gathered peacefully under the shade of a tree. “Back then, I used to come here to collect rations and other supplies by threatening these very people. Seeing them without fear today makes me truly happy.”
The woman spent 18 years in the jungle as a Maoist. “I joined the movement when I was 14 or 15. If I wasn’t misled, I might have had a family, children, maybe even grandchildren by now. What a waste,” says Vaneeta, with a tinge of despondency in her voice. It’s evident what she encountered from 2003 (when she joined the Maoists) to June 2022 was not the idealistic struggle for rights she had been promised.
“Maoists speak loftily of women’s rights, of revolution, of fighting patriarchy and capitalism. But in reality, women were treated deplorably.” Deep gender discrimination prevailed with the ranks. “Sermons of equality were brandished but when it came to leadership, men always held the power.” The ex-Maoist’s voice then trembles while admitting to her past crimes. “I was part of the 2007 Rani Bodli attack. Over 50 security personnel were killed. At that time, we believed we were fighting the enemy. But, we were killing our own people. It’s painful to even think of the blood we got on our hands.”
In a move symbolic of her transformation, Vaneeta recently stood guard as part of the security detail during Union Home Minister Amit Shah’s visit to Bastar. “The same area where I once conducted ‘Sangam Sabhas’ as a Maoist, I was now ensuring the security of the Home Minister. I have seen the jungle routes, the hills, the caves but now I see roads, schools, solar lights. It’s surreal to see this new life.”
Amit Shah, during his visit to the area, acknowledged such stories publicly, highlighting how surrendered Maoists like Vaneeta now contribute to democracy and peace instead of destruction. Vaneeta has also been urging others still involved in the movement to surrender. “Come back. Start again. You can live a safe and peaceful life of dignity with your children. The government is not your enemy. The movement is a lie, it destroys your body, your mind, your soul.”
“Before March 31, 2026, we will completely eradicate Naxalism from the country so that no citizen of the country has to lose his life due to it”
—Amit Shah, Home Minister
The Gram Sabha we witnessed, conducted under the open sky, is more than a village meeting. It signifies change. Shrikalam Joga, the village sarpanch, speaks at the centre of the gathering, his voice calm but firm. “We lived in constant fear earlier. In dark desperation. No roads, no light, and silence everywhere. It’s not like that now. We have electricity. Roads have reached us. There is even a primary health centre.” However, this is just the beginning. “We still need a full hospital. That is our next goal,” he urges.
The sentiment is supported by Kalmuddulla, another villager who recalls darker times graphically. “When the Maoists roamed freely here. nobody could speak, let alone gather like this. But the security camps ensured they don’t come here anymore.”
A key figure in the village, Jorulal, the Kotwar, shared more visible signs of change. “After being declared Naxal-free, the village received Rs 1.10 crore in development funds. We used to hear about money on paper earlier. Now, we see real work happening. There are no Maoist sympathisers left. People are working together,” he assures with a quiet pride.
At the Gram Sabha, one striking phenomenon is worth mentioning—women weren’t just attending, they were speaking up. Once confined to their homes, they now voiced their needs with clarity—Better schools, healthcare, job opportunities for their children. These women emerging from the noxious grip of Maoist control marks a new chapter in Badesatti’s story. None of this has happened overnight though. The peace, the progress, the participation, it has all been achieved after years of coordinated effort.
A new dawn in Jagargunda
A three hour drive from Sukma takes us to Jagargunda. As we enter the village, Krishan ji shares a nugget of its forgotten history. “Asia’s largest tamarind market thrived in this place. Traders came from all over. But when the Naxal violence escalated, everything stopped. No one dared to travel here. The trade collapsed. The markets went silent,” the man’s voice was tinged with sadness.
For years, Jagargunda’s bustling economic rhythm was scuppered, its potential destroyed by fear and violence. The winds of change though are starting to drift this way again. “The newly completed Aranpur–Jagargunda road has become more than just a path through the forest—it’s a lifeline. With its opening, tamarind traders have begun to return,” Krishan ji informs.
As we drive further along, a newly-built bank standing unexpectedly tall against the rural backdrop catches my eye. Curious, I ask the driver to pull over. As we step inside, a customer informs us that on May 18, 2025, Chief Minister Vishnu Deo Sai virtually inaugurated the Indian Overseas Bank (IOB) branch, marking a historic day for the region. This development is a testament to the State’s commitment to revitalising Bastar.
For over 14,000 residents across 12 villages, this new banking facility represents more than just financial services; it signifies a return to normalcy and access to government welfare benefits, which were previously out of reach. The last Gramin Bank in the area was shut down in 2001 after Naxals attempted to loot it. Since then, financial activity in the region has effectively been paralysed.
The reopening of the bank has also empowered local youth. Beneath the shade of a sprawling tree outside the newly opened bank branch, I spotted two young girls sitting together with ID cards hanging around their necks. It was probably their lunch break. As I walked over to greet them, I noticed a quiet pride in their demeanour, as if a recognition that they were part of something big and transformative. Among them sat Tati Kamla, a soft-spoken girl who has recently completed her 12th grade and is working as a business correspondent in the bank.
“We have already opened 31 accounts. Another 150 application forms have been submitted,” she says with a spark in her eyes. Just months ago, such numbers would have been unimaginable. Until recently, villagers had to travel nearly 56 kilometers to Dornapal just to open a bank account or make a deposit. “Now they can do it right here,” Kamla says, adding, “People are happy. There is a new energy in the village.”
“The Maoists have repeatedly urged the government to consider their appeal for dialogue. Unfortunately, the union government and the BJP (Bharatiya Janata Party)-led Chhattisgarh government have chosen not to pursue a solution through talks. Instead they are following an inhuman policy of killings and annihilation”. — Joint statement by Communist Party of India (CPI), Communist Party of India-Marxist (CPM), Communist Party of India (Marxist–Leninist) Liberation, Revolutionary Socialist Party and the All India Forward Bloc in a letter to PM
Beside her sits Parvati Nag, a determined youngster from the neighbouring Kamaram village. She cycles five kilometers every day to get to work. When asked if she ever feels afraid of cycling back home in the evening, she explains, “Earlier, we were scared to come to Jagargunda. The area didn’t feel safe. That feeling has dissipated.”
So what has changed, we ask the girls. “Security has improved. Roads are better. Buses run now,” says Parvati, adding, “It’s still a forested area so sometimes it does feel eerie but earlier coming here wasn’t even an option.”
Now, with banks reopening, roads being built, and public services slowly returning, the likes of Kamla and Parvati dare to dream again.
From Guns to Hope
The Government’s battle against Maoist insurgency has not just been waged with arms. Alongside strategic security operations, there is a quiet but determined mission underway. More and more Maoists are laying down their arms. But for those who surrender, the journey doesn’t end with disarmament. It begins anew, often inside secure rehabilitation centres like the one we visited in Kumharras, a district-level facility in Sukma district.
The Kumharras centre is home to 62 former Maoists, men and women aged between 18 and 47. When we arrive in Kumharras, a bus had just pulled into the compound. Returning from a training session, the passengers inside are chirping like students returning from school. A group of young men are playing volleyball nearby. To think that just a few years ago, these same hands gripped weapons! Today, they are mastering the skills of tailoring, masonry, carpentry, and much more. Some have started training in banks, too.
Among them is Devendra Kumar Vetti, once a medical team leader for the Maoists. He surrendered on May 21, 2024, disillusioned by the promises he was once made to believe in. “They made us work like slaves. We didn’t have the agency of our own lives.” Devendra is now learning masonry. “If I get this right, I can go back home, build residences and earn a living.”
Another surrendered Maoist Telam Kosa, recruited in 2015, spent nearly a decade ferrying supplies and attending covert meetings. “At first I thought we were doing something big. But after a while, I realised it was just dread keeping us there.” Telam is in the same masonry program as Devendra and he dreams of building his own house and starting fresh.
Meeting an elderly tribal woman, who had spent over two decades in the movement, felt really poignant. She spoke haltingly in Gondi, her weathered face bearing the weight of her journey. Though her words were few, her presence in the rehabilitation centre said everything: she had chosen peace. This centre isn’t just concrete walls and training workshops. It’s a beacon of second chances. Supported by the Chhattisgarh Government and security forces, it represents a vision where surrendered Maoists aren’t seen as enemies, but as survivors—victims of an ideology that preyed on poverty and fear.
Connecting lives, not just roads
While speaking to locals about Maoist Basava Raju Rao’s killing, one name keeps coming up—Madvi Hidma. Intrigued, we decide to visit his village, Puvarti, once a Naxal bastion. With no hotels around, we happily take shelter in a CRPF camp nearby by introducing ourselves as journalists. We learn at the camp about a recently introduced bus service connecting Puvarti to Sukma. For decades, Puvarti remained cut off from the outside world. But the winds of change are finally blowing here. It all began with the establishment of a CRPF camp nearby. With security improving, hope quietly made its way into the hearts of the villagers. For the first time, the Border Roads Organisation (BRO) began carving paths through the dense forests, connecting Puvarti to the rest of the places.
My lensman Vijay and I wake up at the crack of dawn to board the newly launched bus service scheduled to depart at 6:30 am. I notice a young girl, barely in her teens, sitting by the window, clutching a small bag. I strike up a conversation. “Where are you headed?” I ask. “Jagargunda Sir,” she replies softly. “Do you study or work?” “I study. I’m in Class 10.” She explains that she is accompanying her aunt, an Anganwadi worker, to pick up a Government-issued “ready tool kit” for early childhood care. This is no leisure trip, we gauge but that it’s her first bus journey, makes it nothing short of special for her and historic for the place. I ask whether she harbours a dream. “I want to be a teacher, “she quips without any hesitation. Her Hindi sounds broken but sincere. Most of the people in this region communicate in Gondi. Another passenger chimes in. “Earlier, we had to walk or cycle to Jagdalpur. Now, we have the bus.” Jagdalpur is about 30 kilometers away. For decades, there were no roads, no transport—just dense forests, anxiety, and forgotten people. The arrival of the bus is not just a logistical shift, it’s an emotional evolution represented by freedom on wheels.
I speak with Akhil, the soft-spoken conductor. “It’s been four months since the service started. People travel to Sukma and Jagargunda but mostly to Dornapal. We usually return by 6:30 in the evening. Delays are rare.” I enquire about security, “No problems now. This was a Naxal area, but it’s peaceful today.” The road is partly under construction, but the bus rolls on slowly, steadily, cutting through decades of silence.
Puvarti village now has a mobile tower and a water tank. A villager Bheema tells me that there was not a single phone until recently, but they are now connected to the outside world as some of the villagers have mobile phones. Puvarti is not alone. Maoist-affected areas like Pamed and Bijapur have also seen new bus routes, bringing more than transport, a wave of possibility.
Pencils and not pistols
I had the opportunity to explore one of the newly established ‘CRPF Gurukul’ schools, while returning from Puvarti. Although the seasonal vacation means only two students are present, the enthusiasm in their eyes speak volumes about the impact of this initiative.
Located in a region once dominated by Maoism, the Puvarti Gurukul represents a significant shift in the area’s trajectory. The CRPF set up this school facility alongside camps in January–February 2024, aiming to bring education directly into communities previously cut off from formal schooling. Besides Puvarti, CRPF Gurukul have also been established in Duled, Mukrajkonda, Tekalgudiyam villages.
In the school, I witness a humble classroom, furnished with charts and basic stationary. The CRPF’s holistic approach in providing books, uniforms, mid-day meals, and even sports gear, is evident.
The CRPF’s efforts in Puvarti are part of a larger resurgence of schools throughout Bastar. 41 schools that had shut down amid Naxal violence two decades ago have reopened, 34 in Bijapur, five in Sukma’s Konta region, and two in Narayanpur, enrolling over 500 students (half of them being girls). A CRPF official revealed, “One civilian teacher has been hired for each Gurukul, having strength of around 50 students.” He also informed that the salary of teachers is paid through a fund under the Civic Action Program provided by the Ministry of Home Affairs.
In areas like Bastar, keeping children in school is crucial not only for education but for steering them away from arms and recruitment. Initiatives like the Gurukul and rural reopening of schools are pivotal in countering this trend.
‘Sons of Bastar’ turning the tables
During our last leg of the journey, we reached Dantewada, the place Kilometers away from Narayanpur where the forces neutralised the general secretary of CPI (Maoist) Nambala Kesava Rao alias Basava Raju on May 21. The operation was spearheaded by the personnel of District Reserve Guard (DRG), a unit of Chhattisgarh police formed to combat Maoist-insurgents in inaccessible zones of Bastar. Upon reaching, we saw a group of DRG jawans silently marching towards their destination in the thick of Dantewada’s forests.
Among these soldiers is Sundari Istam, a reserved, composed DRG personnel. Behind her uniform though, lies a journey that mirrors the dark evolution of Maoism in Chhattisgarh and its gradual undoing. “I joined the Naxal organisation in 2002 when I was just 15,” she says with startling clarity in her remark. “I worked in the gun battalion for over a decade, was part of several ambushes, including the one in 2011 in Bhatta ambush where 26 security personnel were martyred. I was on the other side then.” Today, Sundari is on the side that protects. Recalling her days as a Naxal, Sundari reveals, “In one operation, I was shot in the leg. I emptied two magazines of my AK-47 to counter the police. After fainting from blood loss, my comrades carried me deep into the forest.” It was during her recovery leave that she came across a newspaper article. “It said that surrendered Naxals could start new lives through the police. That idea stayed with me,” she said. “A CF (civil force) jawan approached me. I hesitated. What if they kill me for switching sides? But eventually, I surrendered.”
The process wasn’t instant. “I was interrogated for a year. They needed to know everything, who I worked with, what I knew. I spoke the truth.” And truth paved the way for trust. “I used this gun once to kill the police. Now, I use it to protect the nation,” Sundari says. “Earlier, I had no salary, no identity. Even the money I helped loot never came to me. Today, I earn, I have a home, and I have bought land. This uniform gave me dignity.” She did not shy away from the moral contradictions of her past. “They used children in cultural wings to propagate anti-state ideology. I realised I was fighting the wrong war. We were told we were to protect the people. Instead, we were killing our own tribals, the very people we claimed to fight for. When I questioned it, they said I was changing. They suspected I had been brainwashed.”
Laxman Kotam, another jawan, shares, “I carry dry rations and a gas stove in this combat bag, tools of survival in long operations. “Our DRG unit often walks for miles, setting up camps, cooking under trees, and staying alert even while resting.” These units are made largely of locals. Their knowledge of terrain, dialects, and tactics gives them a decisive edge in operations. They also serve another critical function, rebuilding trust with villagers. “We tell villagers not to fear us. We are your children too,” Sundari says. When asked if she has helped others surrender, Sundari smiles. “Yes. One of my old comrades, Vilas Kowasi from Narayanpur, got my letter. It took months, but he came back. He now serves in the DRG. There’s no greater satisfaction than saving someone from a path that is rife with dead-ends.” The process of reintegrating surrendered Naxals into state forces remains controversial. But the stories from the jungle prove one thing, redemption is real, and the State is offering that path.
“This country trusted me again,” exclaims Sundari, but with a steady voice. “That’s why I fight harder now. For my land, my people, my nation.” One DRG jawan puts it succinctly: “Our first attempt is always to get the Naxals to surrender. If they fire, only then do we respond.”
In the jungles of Dantewada, amidst the quiet hum of a makeshift gas stove, a revolution is brewing, one that doesn’t carry red flags, but khaki uniforms.
Known as the ‘sons of soil’, the DRG since its inception has been a force to look after in tough terrains of state’s Bastar division. Operational since over a decade, the unit was initially set up in the Kanker and Narayanpur districts and later expanded to other Maoist-affected districts like Sukma, Bijapur, Kondagaon, Rajnandgaon and Dantewada. Formed as a special unit, the personnel of DRG are recruited from local youths and among the surrendered Maoist cadres after proper scrutiny. Reports indicate that a small percentage of surrendered Maoists are inducted in the DRG after they successfully perform their duty as ‘Gopniya Sainik’, a term associated with intelligence gathering about the banned outfit. Upon recruitment, the personnel undergo a year-long training programme at the state’s police academy followed by a two-month special training in Jungle warfare which further enhances their natural skills to fight effectively under challenging terrains. Familiar with the Maoist’s tactics, strategy and complexities of the tough terrain, these bravehearts have become an inalienable part of the security forces’ ongoing campaign against ‘red terror’.“They (DRG) have added strength to the security set up, enhancing intelligence gathering which was previously weaker than that of the Maoists. We are briskly moving towards their (Maoists) bastions and have identified their hideouts and location of weapon arsenal, the earlier shortfall of intelligence has been taken care of by the DRG,” a senior official of the police said. Recruited from the same terrain ruined by Maoists for decades, these bravehearts have shown courage and zeal to fight Maoists with an aim to free their very own land from the clutches of red terror.
Battle of survival
The total number of Maoists killed so far this year has climbed to 237. Besides, 812 Naxalites have been arrested and 723 have surrendered. There has been an impressive drop from 126 Maoist affected districts in 2014 to just 12 in early 2025, largely confined to Bastar and parts of Odisha, Jharkhand, Maharashtra, and Madhya Pradesh. On one hand, Maoist forces are losing key commanders in ongoing security operations; on the other hand, many of their comrades are surrendering in large numbers and joining the mainstream. These significant setbacks have become a major source of frustration for the Maoist leadership.
The recent incident in Peddakorma village, Bijapur, on June 17, 2025, where Maoist cadres strangled three relatives of a surrendered member and allegedly abducted over a dozen others, reflects both their growing desperation and the existential struggle they are facing. Although the Maoists’ geographical influence and leadership structure have been severely weakened, attacks like the one in Peddakorma signal their attempt to push back and remain relevant.
(With inputs from Pankaj Singh)
Comments