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By:

Abhijit Mulye

21 August 2024 at 11:29:11 am

Red flag to green steel

Ex-Maoists forge new destiny in Gadchiroli Gadchiroli: The rugged, forested terrain of Gadchiroli district, long synonymous with the violence and deep-rooted anti-establishment tenets of the ‘Red Ideology’, is now witnessing a remarkable social and industrial transformation. At the Lloyds Metals and Energy Ltd. (LMEL) plant in Konsari, once-feared Maoist operatives are shedding their past lives and embracing a new, respectable existence as skilled workers in a cutting-edge Direct Reduced Iron...

Red flag to green steel

Ex-Maoists forge new destiny in Gadchiroli Gadchiroli: The rugged, forested terrain of Gadchiroli district, long synonymous with the violence and deep-rooted anti-establishment tenets of the ‘Red Ideology’, is now witnessing a remarkable social and industrial transformation. At the Lloyds Metals and Energy Ltd. (LMEL) plant in Konsari, once-feared Maoist operatives are shedding their past lives and embracing a new, respectable existence as skilled workers in a cutting-edge Direct Reduced Iron (DRI) and pellet plant. This ‘green steel’ project, part of LMEL’s push for an integrated steel complex in the region, is functioning not just as an industrial unit but as a crucial pillar in the Maharashtra government’s surrender-cum-rehabilitation policy. So far, LMEL, in coordination with the state government and the Gadchiroli Police, has provided employment and training to 68 surrendered Maoists and 14 members of families affected by Naxal violence, a total of 82 individuals, offering them a definitive pathway back to the mainstream. The Shift The transformation begins at the company’s dedicated Lloyds Skill Development and Training Centre at Konsari. Recognizing that many former cadres had limited formal education, the company implements a structured, skill-based rehabilitation model. They are trained in essential technical and operational skills required for plant administration, civil construction, and mechanical operations. For individuals like Govinda Atala, a former deputy commander, the change is palpable. “After surrendering, I got the right to live a new life,” Atala said. “I am very happy to get this job. I am now living my life on my own; there is no pressure on me now.” Suresh Hichame, who spent over a decade in the movement before surrendering in 2009 too echoed the sentiments. He realized the path of violence offered neither him nor his family any benefit. Moreover, his self-respecct was hurt. He knew several languages and carried out several crucial tasks for the banned organization remaining constantly under the shadow of death. Today, he works in the plant, receiving a steady monthly salary that enables him to care for his family—a basic dignity the ‘Red Ideology’ could never provide. The monthly salaries of the rehabilitated workers, typically ranging from Rs 13,000 to Rs 20,000, are revolutionary in a region long characterized by poverty and lack of opportunities. Trust, Stability The employment of former Maoists is a brave and calculated risk for LMEL, an industry that historically faced stiff opposition and even violence from the left wing extremist groups. LMEL’s management, however, sees it as an investment in inclusive growth and long-term stability for the district. The LMEL has emphasized the company’s commitment to training and facilitating career growth for the local populace, including the surrendered cadres. This commitment to local workforce upskilling is proving to be a highly effective counter-insurgency strategy, chipping away at the foundation of the Maoist movement: the exploitation of local grievances and lack of economic options. The reintegration effort extends beyond the factory floor. By providing stable incomes and a sense of purpose, LMEL helps the former rebels navigate the social transition. They are now homeowners, taxpayers, and active members of the community, replacing the identity of an outlaw with that of a respected employee. This social acceptance, coupled with economic independence, is the true measure of rehabilitation. The successful employment of cadres, some of whom were once high-ranking commanders, also sends a powerful message to those still active in the jungle: the path to a peaceful and prosperous life is open and tangible. It transforms the promise of government rehabilitation into a concrete reality. The plant, with its production of iron ore and steel, is physically transforming the region into an emerging industrial hub, and in doing so, it is symbolically forging the nation’s progress out of the ashes of extremism. The coordinated effort between private industry, the state government, and the Gadchiroli police is establishing a new environment of trust, stability, and economic progress, marking Gadchiroli’s transition from a Maoist hotbed to a model of inclusive and sustainable development.

Borderline Justice

Himanta Biswa Sarma’s deportation drive lays bare the moral bankruptcy of India’s secular pretenders.

Assam
Assam

Assam has long been a state drowning in decades of demographic anxiety. Recently, Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma’s uncompromising drive to deport illegal migrants despite their inclusion in the error-ridden National Register of Citizens (NRC) has earned him both fury from the usual quarters and applause from a weary public. That his actions have rattled the complacent consensus of India’s ruling class, judiciary and professional hand-wringers is evidence not of overreach, but of long-overdue resolve.


The NRC, updated under the direct gaze of the Supreme Court and released in 2019, excluded over 19 lakh names yet was never notified, never ratified and remains legally inert. This judicial Frankenstein was supposed to be the gold standard for citizenship verification. Instead, it has proved a monument to institutional indecision. The Registrar General of India has left it in limbo. The Supreme Court, having once micromanaged the process, has now disowned the consequences. Into this vacuum has stepped Sarma.


The Assam CM’s assertion that mere inclusion in the NRC cannot be the sole determinant of citizenship is logical. He has pointed out that manipulation, fraud, and the meddling of so-called activists like Harsh Mander compromised the exercise from the outset. Mander, a darling of Delhi’s liberal elite, allegedly spent years seeding the process with sympathetic cases and encouraging backdoor entries.


Opposition parties including the Congress, the AIUDF and the Raijor Dal have raised a predictable hue and cry by turning legislative assemblies into theatre stages while ignoring their own past flirtations with identity politics. For decades, these parties paid lip service to the fear of infiltration while profiting electorally from vote banks built on precisely such ambiguity. It is not Himanta Biswa Sarma who is communal but the opposition’s selective secularism that reeks of opportunism.


Meanwhile, the Supreme Court, after having played midwife to the NRC’s birth, now shirks its responsibility to oversee the aftermath. The Court has yet to ensure the issuance of rejection slips - basic legal documents that would allow the excluded to appeal. In their absence, nearly 2 million people are trapped in a Kafkaesque purgatory, neither citizens nor aliens. And yet, it is Sarma who is accused of undermining due process.


The deportation drive, operationalized under the long-forgotten Immigrants (Expulsion from Assam) Act, 1950, may be legally controversial but it is constitutionally backed and procedurally sound. The Act empowers district commissioners to identify and remove illegal immigrants. The Centre has done nothing to repeal or update this law.


Some pushed back to Bangladesh have returned. The latter country has long refused to acknowledge the problem, let alone cooperate. But this does not mean India must absorb undocumented migrants by default. When confronted with a neighbour’s intransigence, sovereignty demands assertiveness, not surrender.


The emotive images of women and children left in no-man’s-land make for painful viewing. But to reduce the entire policy to a handful of anecdotal injustices is wilfully dishonest. Every state has the right to defend its borders. Every government has the duty to protect the integrity of citizenship. And every democracy must distinguish between sympathy and statecraft. Human rights cannot become a smokescreen for illegal settlement.


Nor can one ignore that some of the ‘victims’ possess identity documents of dubious provenance. In Assam, voter IDs, Aadhaar cards and even land records have been forged at scale.


It is no coincidence that minority rights organisations have closed ranks in coordination. The convention held by AAMSU and 18 other groups in May was less about justice and more about narrative control. Their resolutions are loud on emotion, but silent on infiltration. They seek an Assam without borders.


For decades, Assamese politicians oscillated between denial and deferral. Himanta Biswa Sarma, for all his polarising methods, has offered something else: decision. It is imperfect, at times messy, but it is something that bureaucrats, judges and moralists have consistently lacked – courage. And that is precisely why they fear him.

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