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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.

When Life Takes an Untimely Exit

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It was a sultry evening, not long ago, when my phone buzzed with a breaking news alert: Air India Dreamliner crashes. 241 feared dead. In an instant, life took an unscheduled exit for hundreds of unsuspecting souls. Just like that, the sky transformed from a flight path into a graveyard. Alas, an ordinary day became their final farewell and the nation gasped in horror.


Only days earlier in Bangalore, jubilation had turned into horror. After 18 long years, Royal Challengers Bangalore (RCB) finally clinched their maiden IPL title -a long-awaited celebration. But outside the cricket stadium, a stampede claimed the lives of eleven young fans. Cheers turned into cries. Victory wore a black armband.


Up north in Pahalgam, death arrived in yet another form - terror. Unsuspecting tourists, untethered to any cause or conflict, fell to bullets - victims of a cruel ideology that values blood over brotherhood. They did not die for a cause but for someone else’s hate.


What binds these and many such tragedies together (irrespective of wherever it happens in the world)? They are all unnatural deaths -sudden, violent, and unjust. They offer no time for last words, no dignity in farewell and no closure for the living. There was a time when death was imagined as a gentle departure in old age, surrounded by family, with mantras or prayers marking the end of a life well lived. That image has now faded as we come to the close of 2025.


Today, death can strike mid-journey, mid-celebration or even mid-sentence. From road mishaps to climate disasters, stampedes to shootings, our ways of dying have multiplied, as if catastrophe has joined our daily routine. In this unsettling new world, dying of old age feels like a privilege.


India’s history with untimely death is long and bitter. Mahatma Gandhi was felled not in war, but in prayer. Indira Gandhi was assassinated by her own sentinels. Rajiv Gandhi, the voice of a modern India, was reduced to smithereens in a blast.


Globally, the narrative is no different. John F. Kennedy was shot in Dallas in 1963 while John Lennon was killed in New York. Princess Diana died in in an alleged car accident in the Paris tunnel. Basketball legend Kobe Bryant was claimed by a helicopter crash. The list is almost endless. When fate strikes with such surgical cruelty, we are reminded that no one - however beloved or famous - is immune from it.


And what remains in the aftermath of such absence? We speak of fate, divine plans, and destiny. Yet, the truth is stark -life does not always wait for your story to end naturally. Sometimes, it tears the script in half.


We mourn in public: lighting candles, posting hashtags, participating in televised debates, demanding justice. But soon, the media captures the next story. What lingers are private voids -the empty chair at the table, the half-read bedtime story, the unread message on a silent phone.


The true toll of unnatural death lies not just in the physical absence but in the emotional wreckage. Families are left with unanswered questions and unfinished stories: the child who never came home, the mother who never landed, the husband who became a widower before his wedding album even arrived.


Grieving such loss is like chasing smoke. Whom do you blame -a reckless driver, a failed system, a negligent authority, or a silent god? And through it all, I ask: Have we grown numb?


Do we still grieve, or are we just performing ritualised mourning? Perhaps numbness is our way of coping. And what we stop feeling, we stop fighting for. While we cannot eliminate every tragedy, we can learn. Improved safety protocols, better crowd management, enhanced intelligence sharing, training, and responsible governance -these are not luxuries; they are essentials.


One can’t accept death-by-negligence as life’s daily refrain. Demand accountability from our systems, and ourselves. Unnatural death must remain the exception. Even in death, there must be dignity. Even in disaster, there must be lessons. And hashtags certainly are not the right recompense for this. It is my humble prayer to those who read this that please do not normalise horror.


My 100-year-old mother once said: “Death - let it happen. Don’t make it happen.” Amen to that.

(The writer is a retired Bengaluru-based banker. Views personal.)

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