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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.

Forests for Sale

A raging fight over 400 acres of scrub forest reveals the Congress-led Telangana government’s conflicted vision for Hyderabad’s future.

Telangana
Telangana

On the western fringes of Hyderabad, an unassuming patch of green in the fast-expanding Financial District has become the site of a tense standoff. Kancha Gachibowli, a 400-acre urban forest adjoining the University of Hyderabad (UoH), is rich in biodiversity, rocky outcrops and controversy. As the Congress-led Telangana government pushes to auction the land to private developers in a bid to bolster its IT economy, students, faculty and civil society have rallied to protect what they call the city’s “last lung space.” While the state sees real estate gold, Hyderabad’s citizens see ecological heritage.


The government claims that transforming this forested tract into an IT park could net up to Rs. 50,000 crore in investments and create half a million jobs. Already, the Telangana Industrial Infrastructure Corporation has drawn up plans, promising to preserve landmark rock formations like the ‘Mushroom Rock’ as green pockets amid glass-and-concrete towers.


But the resistance is equally firm. The land, though never officially notified as a forest, forms part of the larger ecological envelope of the UoH campus. It is home to myriad species of birds, reptiles and mammals. Environmentalists and academics argue that losing this space would deal a fatal blow to Hyderabad’s fragile urban ecology. Urban forests such as Kancha Gachibowli regulate microclimates, sequester carbon and offer respite in a city where heatwaves and water scarcity are fast becoming the norm.


The matter has now escalated to the Supreme Court, which has directed a halt to all deforestation and development activities, and ordered a central empowered committee to inspect the site. The state’s refusal to allow UoH faculty and students to conduct an independent ecological damage assessment before the central team’s visit has only deepened mistrust. The ministers involved argue they are bound by the court’s directives. Protestors see it as yet another attempt to suppress scrutiny.


Adding to the friction is the heavy police presence on campus, with prohibitory orders in place and cases filed against protestors. Two students remain in custody. Far from defusing the situation, the Congress government has adopted the coercive playbook of its predecessors: criminalise dissent, delay dialogue, and hide behind procedure.


The irony is thick. This is the same Congress party that, in opposition, castigated the previous Bharat Rashtra Samithi (BRS) government for its opaque land deals and lopsided development. Now in power, it appears to have inherited not just the furniture but also the worst instincts of its forerunners.


When the University of Hyderabad was established in 1974, it was allocated 2,300 acres. Over the years, successive governments have chipped away at that parcel - first for a telephone exchange, then a bus depot, a sports stadium, and even an IIT campus. The 400 acres at Kancha Gachibowli were handed over to a private sports firm in 2003, reclaimed in 2006 after non-utilisation, and have been in legal limbo since. The Supreme Court has reaffirmed the state government’s ownership, but the lack of proper demarcation and the absence of forest notification has left the land in a legal and ecological grey zone.


The Telangana government would do well to consider a more nuanced approach. Rather than treating the 400 acres as dead capital, it could embrace a vision of inclusive urban planning that balances economic ambitions with ecological imperatives. Designating Kancha Gachibowli as a protected urban forest, opening it up for educational and ecological tourism, and integrating it into the broader developmental plan of the city could offer a compromise that respects both growth and green.


In the battle for Kancha Gachibowli, the stakes go beyond Hyderabad’s skyline. They touch upon how India’s cities imagine their future - whether as concrete jungles chasing capital, or as liveable spaces that cherish their natural inheritance. Politically, the episode is fast turning into a litmus test for the Congress government. If it squanders public trust for short-term real estate windfalls, it will only hasten its own political erosion.

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