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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.

Cash Cricket

Updated: Nov 29, 2024

The IPL mega auction, once a mechanism for building teams, has evolved into an unapologetic display of cricket’s commercialization. Recently, the gavel fell in Jeddah with a record-shattering bid for Rishabh Pant, sold to Lucknow Super Giants for Rs. 27 crore, making him the most expensive player in the league’s history. Pant’s price tag eclipsed the earlier record set moments before when Punjab Kings shelled out Rs. 26.75 crore for Shreyas Iyer. The spectacle reeked not of cricketing merit but of a bidding frenzy where franchises flexed their financial muscles in pursuit of stardom.


The sums are staggering. On the first day alone, franchises spent Rs. 467.95 crore to buy 72 players, making millionaires of many in mere minutes. Auctions have always been a highlight of the IPL, but their evolution from modest beginnings to today’s theatrical extravaganza reflects a profound shift in cricket’s priorities.


While the IPL’s defenders tout its global appeal and revenue-generating prowess, the league’s relentless commercialization has cast a long shadow over cricket’s purist format—Test cricket. Test matches now seem like an afterthought to many players brought up in the T20 era. Young cricketers, seduced by the financial windfall of IPL contracts, are increasingly prioritizing the shorter format, often at the expense of mastering the techniques that are the bedrock of Test cricket. Batsmen struggle to build long innings, bowlers are optimized for death overs rather than endurance, and fielding techniques are tailored for acrobatic catches rather than consistent precision.


The rise of cricket mercenaries—players who hop between leagues for the highest bidder—has further eroded the sport’s traditional ethos. Consider the careers of players like Chris Gayle and Kieron Pollard, who excelled as globe-trotting T20 stars but left only fleeting legacies in Tests. Even promising talents from cricketing powerhouses such as India, Australia and England now risk being pigeonholed as T20 specialists.


Historically, cricket’s icons were defined by their exploits in the longest format. Test cricket-built legends, honing skills that translated into true greatness. Today’s players often find themselves at the mercy of IPL schedules, sacrificing preparatory time for bilateral Test series or domestic tournaments. Even fitness regimens are adapted for the high-octane demands of T20 cricket.


Some argue that the IPL has democratized cricket, enabling players from small towns to share dressing rooms with international stars. While this is true, the league’s structure perpetuates a mercenary mindset. The very auction that enriches players also ensures their loyalty is to franchises, not cricket boards or national teams. The IPL’s triumph is cricket’s tragedy. By reducing the sport to a glittering spectacle of cash and celebrity, it has turned cricketers into commodities. While the IPL may have enriched careers, it has impoverished cricket’s soul.

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