top of page

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.

Bridges to Nowhere

In PM Modi’s home state of Gujarat, infrastructure collapses continue to be met with condolences, but its government refuses to rise to the occasion.

Gujarat
Gujarat

Another day, another bridge collapse in Gujarat. This time it was the Gambhira bridge—an arterial link between Central Gujarat and Saurashtra—that gave way without warning, sending three vehicles plummeting into the Mahisagar river. At least 13 people have died.


The bridge, built in 1985, had been crying out for help. Engineers, local leaders and residents had flagged its dangerous condition for years. A letter in 2021 warned of “unusual vibrations” while slabs were separating so visibly that one could see the river below. And yet, as with many such warnings in India, the file likely gathered dust. Cosmetic surface repairs were conducted, and the trucks kept rolling over a ticking time bomb until that bomb exploded.


The Gujarat government, led by Chief Minister Bhupendra Patel, who also holds the Roads & Buildings portfolio, was hardly blindsided. A Rs. 212 crore replacement bridge had already been approved three months ago. But no urgency followed. Instead, the state chose to gamble with the lives of commuters.


The collapse of the Gambhira bridge is merely the latest addition to a gruesome litany of infrastructural failures in the state that Prime Minister Narendra Modi once governed and still touts as a model. In 2022, 135 people died when a 19th-century suspension bridge in Morbi collapsed days after reopening. The company responsible for its ‘renovation’ had neither structural expertise nor proper clearance. That did not stop the state from handing it the contract.


The pattern repeats with maddening regularity. In June 2023, a freshly inaugurated bridge in Surat developed cracks after the first spell of rain. In Palanpur, the girders of an under-construction highway bridge collapsed, crushing two people. In Valsad, parts of a yet-to-be-inaugurated overbridge broke off. In Tapi, a brand-new 100-metre bridge caved in entirely. Each time, a few engineers are suspended, the contractor is blacklisted, and the Chief Minister orders an inquiry that goes nowhere.


This is what governance by press release looks like. The Gujarat model, once lauded for administrative efficiency, now runs on the fumes of old slogans. Far from delivering on the promise of speed and scale, the BJP-led government is derailing under its own weight. Even Bengal’s ruling Trinamool Congress couldn’t resist a jab, posting a photo montage of the Vadodara and Morbi tragedies with the caption: “Double Engine. Double Disaster.”


It would be tempting to chalk these failures up to India’s broader infrastructural woes. But Gujarat’s failures stand out for their frequency, visibility and the absence of meaningful reform despite repeated loss of life. After the Morbi disaster, the state promised new policies and inspection frameworks. It even informed the High Court of measures to audit bridges under municipal control. And yet, just months later, Gambhira collapsed under a burden it was never built to carry.


The problem is structural, both literally and institutionally. Oversight is fragmented, auditing is perfunctory and political patronage allows discredited contractors to return through back doors. Even when blacklisted, companies often morph into new entities, aided by opaque procurement rules and bureaucratic complicity. Each time, the price is paid in corpses.


Prime Minister Modi, on a foreign tour, swiftly announced Rs 2 lakh for the families of the dead and Rs 50,000 for the injured. But condolences are no substitute for accountability. Nor can compensation wash away the state’s culpability.


What Gujarat needs is not more ribbon cuttings or grand announcements but ruthless reform. Bridge audits must be independent, public and mandatory. Contractor histories should be accessible to citizens and courts alike. Departments must be held legally accountable for ignoring red flags. Infrastructure is about maintaining what is built. And that requires political will, not photo-ops.


Until then, India’s bridges will continue to crumble. And with each collapse, another warning will go unheard until it is too late.

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page