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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.

The Conversion Kingpin

The rise and fall of ‘Changur Baba’ reveals a sinister nexus of religious coercion, caste-targeted manipulation and unchecked foreign funding undermining Indian law and social cohesion.

Uttar Pradesh
Uttar Pradesh

In a country where faith is constitutionally free but often socially fraught, the tale of Jalaluddin Shah, better known by his alias ‘Changur Baba,’ is both cautionary and chilling. Born Karimulla Shah, a gemstone seller pedalling from village to village, he would eventually ascend to the position of a self-styled Sufi mystic wielding immense power over the vulnerable. From a modest dargah in Balrampur, Uttar Pradesh, he ran what investigators are now calling a “conversion factory”—a sprawling network accused of coercing, luring, and manipulating economically disadvantaged citizens into adopting Islam by using a dangerous cocktail of money, mysticism, and Middle Eastern funds.


The facts emerging from investigations by the Uttar Pradesh Anti-Terrorism Squad (ATS) and the Enforcement Directorate (ED) are damning. Nearly Rs. 106 crore in foreign funding, allegedly routed through hawala channels from Gulf nations, washed through 40 bank accounts controlled by Baba and his coterie. The ED’s decision to register a money laundering case under the Prevention of Money Laundering Act (PMLA) is only the first step in unravelling what appears to be a well-oiled machine masquerading as religious philanthropy.


What is deeply corrosive here is the subversion of free will. The Indian Constitution guarantees the right to profess, practice, and propagate religion. But Changur Baba, investigators allege, went far beyond propagation. He targeted widowed women, low-income labourers, Scheduled Castes and backward communities. His methods were a mixture of psychological manipulation, monetary incentives, romantic deceit, and, in some cases, brute intimidation. In one particularly grotesque revelation, a caste-based ‘rate card’ was maintained for converting women: up to Rs.16 lakh for Brahmin, Sardar, or Kshatriya girls with lower rates for OBCs and Dalits.


This kind of caste-calibrated trafficking in belief is incendiary. It weaponizes India's most volatile social fault lines and monetises communal divisions. The Indian state cannot afford to treat such operations as isolated scams.


Then there is the foreign angle. More than 50 visits by Changur Baba and his close associates to Islamic countries raise disturbing questions. What was the nature of these trips? Who were the funders? Why was there no early detection of his meteoric financial rise and expanding landholdings in Balrampur, Pune and beyond? Even one of his illegally acquired properties in Madhpur village, worth Rs. 3 crore, had to be bulldozed to reclaim public land.


His network extended beyond conversions. A young woman from Ghaziabad reportedly went missing in 2019 after being entangled in the group’s web. Her sister alleges that the associate who lured her also subjected her to torture, including stubbing cigarettes on her body. If true, these are not just violations of law, but of the very moral contract on which a society functions.


What makes this saga even more dangerous is its mimicry of sanctity. Religious gatherings at his dargah routinely hosted both Indian and foreign nationals. Through pamphlets, sermons, and a book titled Shijra-e-Tayyaba, Baba projected himself as a spiritual guide while quietly operating as a conversion merchant with a chillingly corporate structure. This is a serious threat to India’s internal security and its social fabric.


For too long, authorities across states have ignored or underplayed the potential misuse of religious platforms for geopolitical and communal disruption. Foreign-funded religious conversions, whether motivated by ideology or profit, need far tighter regulatory oversight. Existing laws must be enforced with surgical precision. The ED, the ATS and intelligence services must not just arrest individuals like Changur Baba but dismantle the entire pipeline—from hawala operatives to foreign benefactors to local enablers.


This is not a call to monitor faith but to protect freedom of belief from becoming hostage to coercion and cash. India’s pluralism depends on preserving the sanctity of choice. When faith becomes commerce, and belief a bargaining chip in caste-based markets, it is not just the law that is violated but the very soul of the republic. 


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