INDIA

Jammu: Rohingya Refugees Struggle For Place to Bury Loved Ones

Urvat il wuska | 22 Nov 2025

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With no access to burial grounds, families travel miles to forested areas, leaving their dead scattered across Jammu.

Makeshift tents of Rohingya refugees, these tents are made up of wooden planks and tin sheets, photos from Kiryani Talab in Jammu (Photo - Urvat il wuska, 101Reporters)

Jammu and Kashmir: Asif Hussain, a member of the Rohingya refugee community living in the Sujwan settlement on the outskirts of Jammu, still remembers the long walk through the forest with his brother’s body.

In 2018, when Salam Hussain died of kidney disease, there was no place in Jammu where he could be buried. Asif (45), a daily-wage labourer had to take him nearly 50 kilometres away, to a forest area in Kathua.

“I had to arrange Rs 5,000 for travel and burial expenses,” Asif recalled. “We hired a load carrier, and after reaching the base of the forest, we trekked for an hour to reach the spot. That experience still haunts me. We don’t even have the courage to visit his grave now, fearing wild animals may have disturbed the body.”

For Muslim families, the Janazah prayer before burial is a communal obligation, meant to be attended by as many people as possible. But for families like Asif’s, distance and fear make that impossible. “Because the burial sites are so far away, many people can’t join. What should have been a communal prayer becomes a lonely act,” he said. “In such times, you need your people around you, but we are left to mourn alone.”

Across Jammu, over 13,000 Rohingya refugees face this same struggle, denied even the dignity of a grave. Living in temporary settlements in Channi Rama, Kiryani Talab, Narwal, Bhatandi and Sujwan, they have no access to designated burial grounds. Families often travel 40-50 kilometres to forested areas in Qasim Nagar, Sidhra or Kathua to bury their dead.

The Rohingya, a predominantly Muslim ethnic minority from Myanmar’s Rakhine state, fled large-scale persecution and violence beginning in the 1990s, with the largest exodus after 2017. Around 40,000 are estimated to live across India, mostly in Jammu, Delhi, Hyderabad and Haryana. Though registered with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), they are not formally recognised as refugees under Indian law, leaving them in a state of legal limbo, without citizenship rights or assured access to housing, education, or burial grounds.

Amir Hussain, a community leader of Rohingya refugees, praying Fatihah at the graveyard in Channi Rama (Photo - Urvat il wuska, 101Reporters).

The absence of safe and dignified burial spaces raises a painful question: when displaced people are denied the right to rest their dead, what protection do they have left in life?

Scattered graves

Rohingya families also carry the emotional burden of invisibility in death, said Rahimulla, 35. “We don’t place names or details like other Muslims, which usually gives a sense of identity. That’s why it feels like we vanish with death,” he said.

Even in hardship, families honour their dead in the few ways they can. “We place simple stones over the graves so we know they exist. Only close family knows who is buried where,” he added.

Amir Ali (75) who came to India with his family in 2008, said they have long struggled to find a place to live and a place to rest. “Whenever someone dies, we rely on local residents to help us bury them. Some allow us to use their graveyards, like the one in Bhatindi, but even that is uncertain. Recently, locals asked us to find a separate graveyard, saying they had limited space. It’s becoming harder to ensure a proper resting place for our loved ones,” he said.

Without a dedicated burial ground, graves are scattered across forests and small local graveyards, leaving families divided even in death.

Rahman Ali (55) had to bury his parents in separate graveyards. “It divides families even in death and makes it difficult to grieve or preserve a sense of belonging,” he said. “There’s no place to mourn together or honour our dead. It feels like they’re disappearing, and all we’re left with is sorrow.”

“I want to visit my parents’ graves,” said Rahimulla quietly. “But they’re too far. A graveyard close to our settlement would mean we could at least hold on to their memory, instead of feeling scattered even in death.”

He said graves serve as anchors of community and cultural identity. “When families can’t bury their dead together, it fragments not just grief but the cohesion of the entire community.”

Rahimulla, who teaches children in his settlement near Kiryani Talab, said the loss extends beyond individual families. Rahmatullah, 25, added why a separate graveyard matters: “It would preserve our identity. Even if one day we return to our country, we could visit our ancestors and remember the struggles our families endured.”

Burials at a cemetery in Chowadi Sujwani, Jammu, where members of the Rohingya community are buried alongside local residents (Photo - Urvat il wuska, 101Reporters).

Between law and humanity

“Rohingya Muslims in India live under legal uncertainty and are often treated as ‘illegal immigrants’ despite being recognised by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR),” said human rights activist Nayla Hashmi. “This lack of clarity affects every aspect of their lives, including access to a dignified burial. Ensuring such basic rights is essential to easing their hardship.”

“International human rights standards emphasise that dignity and life extend beyond death,” she added. “While India has not ratified all refugee-specific treaties, it still has an obligation to protect displaced communities on humanitarian grounds.”

Even though Rohingyas are not officially recognised as refugees and can technically be deported under the Foreigners Act, they are still protected by Article 21 of the Constitution, which guarantees the right to life and personal liberty. “This right applies to every person on Indian soil,” Hashmi said. “That includes the right to basic human dignity, such as a proper and respectful burial.”

The Foreigners Act regulates the status of non-citizens but does not provide rights such as housing, employment or burial grounds. However, the Supreme Court has clarified that while foreigners may not have the right to remain in India, they cannot be denied basic human rights during their stay. Thus, access to burial grounds for Rohingyas is protected not by the Foreigners Act but by the constitutional guarantee of Article 21.

In practice, most Rohingyas in India are registered with the UNHCR, which helps document their presence and ensures limited recognition of their humanitarian needs. Across the country, about 16,500 Rohingyas are registered with the agency, including around 5,700 in Jammu (2024-25 estimates).

Hashmi said the limited access to burial grounds highlights the need for policies that combine legal clarity with humanitarian care. “Refugees should not have to face additional suffering even after death,” she said.

“We are grateful to India for giving us a place to live,” said Amir Hussain, a community leader in the Narwal settlement. “But when it comes to burying our dead, forests and occasional help from locals are not enough.”

“Providing a separate graveyard is not just about burial,” he added. “It is about mental peace, cultural preservation and giving our children a connection to their heritage. Without it, the grief of the living remains unresolved and the memory of the dead fades away.”

He appealed to the administration “on humanitarian grounds” for a dedicated graveyard with state support. “It would allow our community to honour our loved ones safely and with dignity, and preserve our identity and traditions even in these difficult times.”

Repeated attempts to contact officials from the district administration and forest department went unanswered.

Urvat il wuska is a freelance journalist and a member of 101Reporters, a pan-India network of grassroots reporters.

 INDIA

Odisha: 'The Sky Now Lies to us': Changing Rainfall Patterns Erasing Koraput’s Traditional Seeds

Prativa Ghosh | 20 Nov 2025

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In Odisha’s tribal heartland, unpredictable monsoons are wiping out indigenous crops and with them, centuries of farming knowledge and cultural memory.

Farmers followed the sky as faithfully as a clock (Photo - Prativa Ghosh, 101Reporters)

Koraput, Odisha: “The sky now lies to us,” Farmer Tikima Pangi (56) from Semilguda village in Odisha’s Koraput district told 101Reporters. “My mother used to say that by looking at the clouds in May, we knew exactly when to start sowing. But now, the sky lies to us. The rains come whenever they want, and our seeds no longer know what season it is.”

Pangi grows Dangarbaji, a traditional paddy variety, on her one-acre farm. Once common across Koraput, Dangarbaji is a medium-duration rice that matures in about 110 to 115 days.

It has slender, light green stalks, withstands mild droughts, and thrives in poor soils without fertilisers. Older farmers recall that it was once preferred on upland slopes for its soft, fragrant rice that stayed fresh for days.

Pangi is among the few farmers in Koraput who still grow the crops their grandmothers once did.

But across Odisha’s tribal belt, ancient seed varieties are vanishing as erratic rainfall upends growing cycles, taking with them not just food security, but also cultural identity and collective memory.

Over the past six to seven years, Koraput has lost more than eight varieties of mandia (finger millet) and over 30 traditional crops.

The varieties now disappearing were perfectly matched to Koraput's old monsoon patterns.  Earlier, traditional farming calendars worked because the rain could be trusted. Historical records show that Koraput receives about 1,950 mm of rainfall a year, spread evenly over roughly 90 days between June and late October.

Farmers followed the sky as faithfully as a clock. May showers signalled it was time to sow early mandia (finger millet). The first June rains meant rice planting. By August, the uplands turned green with crops ready to flower, and by October, the harvest began.

Mandia varieties like Kuya Gandhia took just 60 days to mature. Farmers planted them in May after the first rains and harvested them by July, ensuring food before the main rice season. Upland rice varieties such as Dangar Dhan and Paradhan took 100-110 days, timed to the steady June-to-October monsoon, explained Pangi.

That rhythm is now broken. Rainfall data from 2021 to 2025 shows wild swings that have made farming unpredictable. In 2021, June brought just 216.8 mm of rain while July saw 523 mm: a sudden imbalance that forced farmers to delay planting and miss the optimal window.

In 2024, June received 263.9 mm, July 238.9 mm, and August 318 mm. But in October, normally the harvest month, Koraput was deluged with 740.9 mm of rain, nearly five times its usual average of 165–305 mm. Floods swept through the fields just as the crops were ready to be cut.

“By late August or early September, our mandia plants flower and form grain,” said Parima Muduli, 39, a Paraja tribal farmer from Kurmakote village. “By October, they should be ready to harvest. But now October brings floods. The grain rots in the field. Fungus takes everything.”

Extreme rainfall events have also become more concentrated. On July 2, 2025, Koraput recorded 1,062.5 mm of rainfall in a single day, with Jeypore block receiving 141.8 mm and Kotpad 152 mm. Such downpours, once rare, now routinely exceed entire monthly averages within hours.

According to Jyotirmayee Lenka, a scientist at the Indian Institute of Soil and Water Conservation in Koraput, the district has seen both more frequent and more intense rainfall events between 2018 and 2025. “These changes,” she said, “are fundamentally altering upland farming conditions.”

The increasing unpredictability of rainfall has made it difficult for farmers to rely on traditional seed varieties, pushing many to abandon traditional crop cycles.

Farmers followed the sky as faithfully as a clock (Photo - Prativa Ghosh, 101Reporters)

Vanishing seeds and stories

"My grandfather used to say that the kokila bird's call told us when to prepare the fields,” Lakhmi Khilo, an elderly farmer from Kundra block, told 101Reporters. “When the first thunderstorm came from the east, we knew it was time for Dangar Dhan. When the frogs sang for three nights, we planted mandia on the slopes. Now the birds call, but the rains don't come. The frogs sing, but floods arrive instead. Nature is confused, and we are confused with it.”

These elders watch their knowledge become useless in real time, a particularly cruel form of loss. Agricultural calendars memorised over lifetimes, techniques perfected through decades of practice, seed-selection wisdom accumulated across generations, all made obsolete by shifting climate patterns.

Budri Bhatra of Badnayakguda village said, “We taught our children to save the best seeds from the best plants. But what good is that teaching when the rains kill the best plants? When October brings water instead of harvest? Our knowledge is dying with us because it no longer works in this new world.”

Yet even as they mourn, these elders remain crucial sources of information for custodian farmers. They remember varieties that have already disappeared, describe their characteristics, and recall their uses.

“My grandfather showed me how to pick the strongest stalks of Haladichudi rice and plant them on higher slopes to survive the floods. Because of his guidance, I could save the variety even when unseasonal rains destroyed everything else,” said Raimati Gihuria, custodian farmer from Nuaguda. This oral history helps document what has been lost and informs efforts to preserve what remains.

The disappearance of traditional crop varieties in Koraput has brought losses that go far beyond agriculture. Traditional seeds once offered balanced nutrition suited to local diets. Aromatic rice such as Haladichudi, Basantichudi and Kalajeera provided distinct flavours and nutrients, while millets supplied calcium, iron and amino acids, crucial for communities with limited access to diverse food. As these crops disappear, tribal meals have grown monotonous, reduced largely to government-supplied ration rice.

The loss of seeds has also disrupted the region’s cultural rhythm. In August, farmers used to plant early-maturing crops such as Dangarbaji, Kuya Gandhia, Ladu Mandia, Kandul and Dangarrani. The first harvest was offered to local gods during Nua Khai Parab, the festival of new food.

“Now we cannot perform these rituals with the new hybrid rice because the early varieties are gone,” said Pangi. “Our children will grow up not knowing the taste of Dangarbaji or the ceremonies their great-grandmothers performed.” She remembered the first year the village could not offer traditional rice: “The entire village wept. It felt like breaking a sacred promise.”

Pangi has spent the past eight years saving nearly 70 traditional seed varieties of paddy, pulses and vegetables. Their names, she said, sound like poetry: Dangarbaji, Kalakandul, Pati Badei, Kaja, Dameni, Kalijima and Jhunta Bin.

Parima Muduli, who has preserved varieties like Biri Dhana and Sugandha, said these crops are part of the community’s identity. “The songs we sing during planting, the prayers we offer at harvest…they all mention these seed names. When the seeds vanish, our stories make no sense to our children.”

“These weren’t just crops,” added Raimati Ghiuria, 42, from Nuaguda village, known locally as the Queen of Millets for conserving over 70 rice and 30 millet varieties. “Kalajeera gave fragrance for festival meals. Machakanta was served to the guests. Tulasi rice was offered to gods. Each seed had a purpose, a story, a place in our lives.”

Traditional varieties were also living libraries of genetic adaptation. Drought-tolerant strains such as Kalajeera, Asamchudi, Ojan and Tulasi helped farmers survive erratic monsoons, while short-duration millets like Kuya Gandhia and Kuruma Bati ensured food during lean periods.

In 2022, Pangi planted Kuya Gandhia mandia in May, expecting it to mature within 60 days. But rains came late, and the few stalks that sprouted were washed away by July showers. “For the first time, I could not save a single seed,” she said. “I knew that the story of Kuya Gandhia might end with me.”

Farmers explained that such seeds once offered genetic insurance against climate shocks. “On our 8-acre farm, we harvest 12-14 quintals per acre from indigenous varieties,” said Ghiuria. “They survive floods and droughts that kill hybrids. If we lose them now, we’ll have nothing resilient left.”

Although hybrid seeds can yield 20 quintals per acre under ideal conditions, they depend on fertilisers, pesticides and irrigation. Only 9.3% of the cropped land in Koraput has irrigation access. Traditional varieties, grown organically with minimal inputs, yield 12.5quintals per acre even in dry years.

Hybrid paddy sells for about Rs 2,160 per quintal, while traditional varieties fetch anywhere between Rs 2,100 and Rs 5,000 per quintal. “High-value varieties like Kalajeera, Raghusahi and Lactimachi can go up to Rs 5,000 per quintal,” said Kartik Kumar Lenka, senior scientist at the MS Swaminathan Research Foundation in Jeypore. For farmers with limited inputs and rainfed fields, this price range often makes indigenous crops more economical despite their lower yields.

Yet procurement systems continue to favour hybrids. “Government policies reward volume, not sustainability,” said Ghiuria.

However, some indigenous rice varieties have slowly made their place in the markets. Ghiuria sells her organic rice for Rs30-Rs40 per kg, while heritage pigmented varieties like Kalajeera or Bali Raja fetch Rs300–Rs500 per kg in urban organic stores. “Even packaged Kalajeera now sells at Rs259 a kilo,” said Tankadhar Chendia from Machhara village. “Meanwhile, bulk hybrid rice sells for Rs30-Rs40. The difference speaks for itself.”

Women farmers working in the finger millet fields (Photo - Prativa Ghosh, 101Reporters).

How seeds get lost

The immediate cause of seed loss in Koraput is simple: when rainfall patterns shift, crops fail. But the deeper reasons are more complex.

Traditional mandia (finger millet) varieties that matured in 60 days depended on early May showers. “Earlier, rains in May allowed tribal farmers to plant and harvest mandia by July or early August, ensuring food security,” said Tikima Pangi. “But now May rains are unreliable. If we plant and rains fail, the seeds are wasted. If we wait for July rains, the growing season is too short for 60-day varieties to mature before October floods.”

The result is a cruel choice — plant early and risk drought, or plant late and risk flood. Either way, short-duration varieties cannot survive. After several years of failed crops, farmers stop saving these seeds altogether. Once that happens, the varieties disappear from fields, then from seed stores, and finally from memory.

Lakhmi Khilo, an 82-year-old farmer from Kundra, remembers how Haladichudi, a rice that could survive late-September floods, was once saved from extinction. “I taught Raimati Ghiuria to select the strongest stalks and plant them on higher slopes, so they would survive when rains flooded the lowlands,” he said.

“Because of his guidance, I could save the seeds and grow Haladichudi even when floods came two years in a row,” said Ghiuria. “Without that knowledge, this variety might have vanished from Nuaguda forever.”

For upland rice varieties such as Dangar Dhan, Para Dhan and Mati Dhan, the problem is equally severe. These crops were once planted in May and harvested by August, completing their cycle before the monsoon waned. Now, the rainfall pattern has fractured.

Annual rainfall totals still appear adequate, but the timing has become erratic, with long dry spells followed by intense downpours. “Heavy rainfall events create artificial flooding, while reduced frequency of rain dries out the soil,” said Pangi. “Crops experience stress during crucial growth stages, and yields collapse. Eventually, farmers abandon the varieties.”

Koraput’s hilly terrain worsens the impact. Sudden, high-intensity rains cause soil erosion, stripping away the fertile topsoil from slopes. Without topsoil, even resilient traditional varieties cannot grow. By October, when crops are ready to harvest, excess rain often waterlogs the fields, leading to fungal infections and grain spoilage.

“The floods destroy not just the harvest,” Pangi said quietly, “but also the seeds we would have saved for the next season.”

Climate predictions are unfolding in real time

The experiences of Koraput’s farmers mirror climate science projections for the region. Studies predict a 4%-16% increase in overall rainfall across Odisha, with a longer rainy season and more extreme precipitation events. But this doesn’t mean simply more rain — it means heavier downpours packed into shorter periods, separated by longer dry spells.

Debashish Jena, Senior Scientist at the IMD in Cuttack, calls this “rainfall seasonality stress”  when not just the amount but the timing and distribution of rain shift beyond historical patterns. For rainfed districts like Koraput, where nearly 90% of farmers depend entirely on the monsoon, such stress is catastrophic. Crops bred for predictable rainfall cannot adapt quickly enough to survive.

The Odisha State Disaster Management Authority reported that unseasonal rains in 2023 caused severe crop damage in Koraput. But the word unseasonal itself is losing meaning — the seasons no longer follow any familiar rhythm. When October, once the harvest month, can now receive five times its normal rainfall, the agricultural calendar collapses.

If current trends continue, the outlook for Koraput’s traditional agriculture is bleak. Climate projections suggest rainfall variability will increase further, making it harder to sustain indigenous cropping patterns. As more varieties fail, farmers abandon them, and the region’s genetic reservoir of seeds shrinks — eroding the very biodiversity that once buffered it against droughts and floods.

Food security, too, is at risk. When tribal communities cultivated diverse traditional varieties, they had natural insurance: if one crop failed, others survived. Modern single-crop systems lack that resilience. A single pest, disease, or weather shock can now wipe out entire harvests. The loss of drought-tolerant and flood-resistant varieties removes the very tools farmers need most in a changing climate.

The seeds of Koraput are vanishing, and with them, centuries of wisdom, culture, and resilience that once allowed communities to live in step with the rain.

Prativa Ghosh is a freelance journalist and a member of 101Reporters, a pan-India network of grassroots reporters.  

INDIA

Jharkhand: 7 Months on, Ramgarh Underground Fire Keeps Burning, Threatens Lives & Land in Coal Belt

Vishal Ranjan Sahu | 21 Nov 2025

What began as a forest blaze in April has turned into a slow-moving underground fire beneath a village, while district administration still investigates it.


Women returning from the forest with cut broom grass 

(Photo - Vishal Ranjan Sahu, 101Reporters)


Ramgarh, Jharkhand: It has been seven months since an underground coal fire began burning beneath the forest of Bhuchungdih village in Jharkhand’s Ramgarh district, charring the ground and filling the air with smoke and heat.

What started as a forest fire in April, due to debated causes, has now slipped below the surface, spreading to an illegal mining site and igniting underground coal deposits and soil cavities.

Thick smoke and occasional flames rise from the earth, while the once-green forest now lies barren: trees have died, the soil has hardened or crumbled, and the air is heavy with heat.

The fire is now slowly advancing toward the residential part of the village, just 700-800 metres away.

The district administration is still trying to determine the cause of the fire.

Ramgarh District Forest Officer Nitish Kumar said the blaze may have been triggered by long-standing illegal coal mining in the Bhuchungdih forests.

“The reason for the fire is being investigated,” he said. “For many years, people have been digging small underground tunnels, known as rat-hole mines, to steal and sell coal. Some of these tunnels were later abandoned and filled with dry wood, leaves, and plastic waste. During the mahua collection season in April, villagers burn dry leaves to clear the forest floor. The fire likely spread through these abandoned tunnels, where it reached the underground coal seams and set the deposits on fire.”

Jharkhand is among India’s largest coal-producing states, accounting for 26.4% of the country’s total coal reserves, according to the Union Ministry of Coal.

In Ramgarh district alone, coal is extracted from 12 mines, and traces of this mining legacy run deep, visible even in forested areas like Bhuchungdih, where abandoned coal seams lie just beneath the soil.

The villagers, however, dispute the claim that their seasonal burning caused the fire. They said clearing dry leaves before collecting mahua flowers, a forest produce central to their livelihood, is a long-standing local practice and had never led to such incidents before.

The blaze has also altered the forest’s microclimate.

The air is thick with toxic gases, the temperature has risen across the forest, and the ground feels hot. Even 300-400 metres away, the air turns cooler: a sharp contrast that shows how deeply the underground fire has transformed the area.

“The forest used to be cool and fresh,” said Birsa Karmali (52), who grazes his goats there. “Now, warm air blows from it. It feels like some hot gas enters your body when you breathe.”

Across the forest floor, cracks up to 15 metres long and nearly half a metre wide have opened, from which flames and poisonous gases continue to escape.


Those who depend on the forest for grazing or collecting firewood often show symptoms of coughing fits and eye irritation (Photo - Vishal Ranjan Sahu, 101Reporters).

Villagers said that the smoke drifts toward Bhuchungdih, especially at night, making it difficult to breathe. “Earlier, the air here was clean,” said Satish Mahto (48). “Now, it feels like gas mixes with the air.” Fenken Kewat (65) added, “When the wind blows toward the village, the smoke becomes unbearable.”

Hazard

Those who depend on the forest for grazing or collecting firewood often return with coughing fits and eye irritation. Nanki Devi (44), who collects tiger grass, a variety of grass used for making brooms, said that these plants grow close to the affected areas. “When I go there to cut broom grass, the smoke makes me cough, and staying there for long makes it hard to breathe,” she said.

Shanti Devi's(46) goats often wander near the burning sites while grazing. “When I go to bring them back, it becomes difficult to breathe. I cover my nose and mouth with a cloth because of the smoke,” she said.

For many in Bhuchungdih, avoiding the fire zone is not an option. Santosh Mahto (42), who earns his living from farming and animal husbandry, said he must take his cattle to graze in the forest despite the risks. “Breathing has become difficult, but where else can we take our cows to graze,” he said.

He explained that while most of the land has turned barren, some grass still grows on slightly higher ground near the area where the underground fire is burning and the path to the river also passes through it. “That is the only place where a bit of grass is left, so the cows go there,” he said. But the smoke and gases rise unpredictably, sometimes barely visible, sometimes overwhelming. “When the fumes suddenly increase, the cows and oxen run away or avoid the spot altogether,” Mahto said, adding that the heat and fumes cause breathing problems and eye irritation for both people and animals.

In addition to the heat and smoke, the fire’s reach is widening underground.

The Bhairavi River, which flows just below the burning zone, faces the risk of toxic contamination. The fire has opened up fissures and sinkholes in the land, and during the rains, runoff could carry heavy metals and chemical residues into the soil and water.

Sudhanshu Shekhar, Senior Scientist and Head of the Krishi Vigyan Kendra, Ramgarh said that underground fires often pollute both surface and groundwater. Drawing a parallel with the Jharia coalfield, he explained that fumes from such fires get trapped in the soil and dissolve into aquifers and nearby water bodies. “The Bhairavi River is especially at risk,” he said. “Rainwater can seep through the cracks and carry toxic substances into the river, contaminating it with heavy metals.”

He added that, given the scale of the damage and potential impact on public health, the district administration must conduct a detailed study of soil and water quality in the region.
Choked

The toxic gases and smoke rising from the underground fire have left villagers deeply anxious about their health and that of their children. Doctors warn that prolonged exposure to the polluted air could lead to serious long-term illnesses.

Dr Satya Prakash, District Epidemiologist and Nodal Officer for the National Programme on Climate Change and Human Health at Sadar Hospital, Ramgarh, said residents should stay as far away as possible from the affected areas. “The smoke contains fine particles that settle in the lungs, forming a layer that can cause diseases such as silicosis, pneumonia, bronchitis, skin disorders, eye irritation, and asthma,” he explained. “It also releases toxic substances like silica and benzene. Long-term exposure to these can damage DNA and increase the risk of cancer.”

He added that the short-term effects may not be immediately visible, but continued exposure will gradually harm the body, leading to chronic illnesses over time.

Dr Thakur Mrityunjay Kumar Singh, District Reproductive and Child Health Officer at Sadar Hospital said that the smoke and gases could have severe effects on children, hindering their physical growth and making them more vulnerable to allergic bronchitis and recurrent infections. “We have already seen such symptoms in many people, especially children, due to exposure to coal smoke,” he said.

Dr Singh also warned that gases such as carbon monoxide and nitrous oxide emitted from the burning coal are particularly dangerous for pregnant women. “During pregnancy, hormonal changes reduce immunity, making women more vulnerable. Inhaling these toxic vapors can harm both the mother’s health and the baby’s development in the womb,” he said.

Both doctors advised that anyone entering the fire-affected area should wear a mask, cover their body completely, and pass through the area with extreme caution.




Short-term effects of the smoke may not be immediately visible, but continued exposure will gradually harm the body (Photo - Vishal Ranjan Sahu, 101Reporters)

Scorched

Shekhar, senior agricultural scientist quoted earlier, warned that the underground coal fire is likely to spread further below the surface, destroying underground water reserves and reducing soil fertility. “The water pockets beneath the ground will start drying up…some may already have,” he said. “As that happens, trees and plants above will gradually die, and farming in those areas will no longer be possible. The fertile farmland near Bhuchungdih may also turn barren. Crops and fruit trees growing over the burning zones could absorb toxic elements, posing a hidden risk to human health through food consumption.”

He added that the effects may not appear immediately, but could emerge slowly as poisoning through the food chain.

Notably, in Bhuchungdih, many residents combine farm work with other occupations. They mainly grow vegetables, paddy, and maize. Barely 300 metres from the burning area lie paddy fields. Manoj Kumar (38), farmer, said, “The way the fire is spreading underground, it looks like it will reach our fields within a few months. We don’t even know if we’ll be able to plant paddy next year.”

Another villager Binod Mahto (44) recalled that before the fire started in April, the area was thick with sal, mahua, kusum, and jackfruit trees, and the soil was green and fertile. “After the coal beneath the ground caught fire, many trees dried up and several fell as the ground caved in,” he said.

Shekhar pointed out that Ramgarh is already heavily affected by coal mining, with Central Coalfields Limited (CCL) operating several sites nearby, including Rajrappa. “Coal is also widely used here for domestic and small industrial purposes, so air pollution levels are already high,” he said. “The underground fire in Bhuchungdih will make it worse. It is continuously releasing smoke and gases — carbon dioxide, carbon monoxide, methane, and sulphur dioxide, creating a haze-like condition in the area. This fire is silently adding fuel to the climate crisis.”
Stressed

For seven months, villagers of Bhuchungdih have been living in fear. They say the fire, far from being controlled, is spreading across a larger area. “We fear Bhuchungdih might become another Jharia,” said Jagarnath Mahto (55), referring to the coalfield in Dhanbad where underground fires have burned for over a century, devastating entire settlements.
Attempts to extinguish the blaze have so far failed. In April and May, the district administration and CCL Rajrappa tried to douse the fire by pumping water and covering the burning pits with soil. On May 20, a pump operator, Ravinder Mahto from Gola block, died when the ground collapsed beneath him during the operation.

Since then, efforts have slowed, according to the Bhuchungdih village sarpanch and local residents, who said the administration has been hesitant to send workers back to the site after the accident and has not taken any major initiative to put out the fire.

Officials had hoped the monsoon rains would naturally extinguish the flames, but the fire continues to burn.

Deputy Commissioner Faiz Aq Ahmed Mumtaz said a technical team from Indian School of Mines, Dhanbad had inspected the site and would soon submit a report suggesting ways to control the fire. “A large amount of funding will be required for this,” he said, adding that the district administration has begun discussions with CCL Rajrappa, which operates mines nearby, to arrange for financial support.

Sunita Devi, the Sarpanch of Bhuchungdih Panchayat, said she has written multiple letters to the District Collector, Forest Officer, and CCL’s Darbhanga House in Ranchi, urging immediate action. “But the administrative response has been slow,” she said. “It feels like no one is really trying to put the fire out.”

(Vishal Ranjan Sahu is a freelance journalist and a member of 101Reporters, a pan-India network of grassroots reporters.)

 

222 Years of Haiti’s Victory at Vertiéres

Guillermo R Barreto | 22 Nov 2025

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Today, when US imperial arrogance threatens the entire continent with its military power, we must remember that powerful imperial armies have been defeated time and again by the Caribbean peoples. The Battle of Vertières is a historical milestone that has been rendered invisible by hegemonic historiography.

The Battle of Vertières. Photo: wiki commons

This year marks the 222nd anniversary of the Battle of Vertières. It took place on November 18, south of Le Cap, in what was then known as Saint Domingue. In that battle, which lasted five hours, Napoleon Bonaparte’s elite troops were defeated by battalions of former slaves led by Jean Jacques Dessalines, who consolidated the independence of what would henceforth be called Ayti or Haiti.

Haiti is always mentioned in the media in connection with misfortune. The poorest nation in the hemisphere, famine, cholera, violence. What is not mentioned is the cause of poverty or famine or the cholera epidemic or violence, consequences of centuries of colonial and neocolonial domination. At this moment, the situation is particularly serious, especially in the capital Port-au-Prince and in the Artibonite Department. In fact, a series of heavily armed gangs have taken control of large areas, unleashing unprecedented violence that has claimed more than 5,000 lives this year and caused the internal displacement of more than 1.3 million Haitians to safer areas of the country. The situation of children is particularly alarming. According to reports from UNICEF, 680,000 children have been displaced from their homes, 300,000 have interrupted their studies, either because schools have been destroyed or are being used as shelters, and 288,544 children under the age of 5 are at risk of malnutrition. It is important to note that displacement places children in a vulnerable situation, including health risks due to poor hygiene in shelters, malnutrition, and even forced recruitment by armed gangs. A recent report by Catherine Russell, Executive Director of UNICEF, estimated that 30 to 50% of gang members were minors, who are used as messengers, kitchen workers, sex slaves, and even forced to participate in acts of armed violence.

It is important to note that these gangs have destroyed vital infrastructure, including 38 hospitals, six universities, and libraries, and have forced more than 1,000 schools to close. All of this, and the resulting demobilization of the population that this violence entails, calls into question the idea that these are simply conflicts between criminal gangs. These gangs regularly receive weapons and ammunition from the United States, and this action indicates a project that seeks to make the functioning of a nation unviable. But this attack on the Haitian nation is not recent. Haiti has been under siege by imperial powers since its independence.

The island of Haiti was invaded by Christopher Columbus on his first voyage in 1492, establishing the first European settlement in Our America. The entire island became a colony of the Castilian, then Spanish, empire. In 1697, the Treaty of Ryswick between France and Spain granted the western part of the island to France, henceforth to be called Saint Domingue. The island was rich in resources, and Europeans, in need of labor, brought in millions of Africans who were kidnapped and enslaved to work in mines, plantations, and estates. It would not be an exaggeration to say that it was this wealth that provided the economic basis for the development of imperial France. In 1789, the year of the Storming of the Bastille in Paris, the colony had 793 sugar plantations, 3,150 indigo plantations, 3,117 coffee plantations, 789 cotton-producing units, and 182 rum distilleries. With a population of 40,000 whites and 28,000 free mulattoes, production was sustained by the slave labor of 452,000 Africans and their descendants, who made up 86% of the total population.

Control of the colony was characterized by unimaginable cruelty. Rebellions took place from the very beginning of the conquest of the territory. I highlight here the ceremony of Boïs Caiman in 1791, when Dutty Boukman and the voodoo priestess Cécile Fatiman managed to gather 200 slaves and, in a ceremonial cry, swore to fight for their freedom. That same year, a massive uprising began with the burning of plantations and the killing of settlers. It was Toussaint L’Overture who managed to organize an army and defeat the occupiers, declaring freedom for all. L’Overture trusted revolutionary France with its ideals of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity, but that same revolution betrayed him, and he ended up dying in a cold prison in eastern France.

France decided to send an expeditionary force of 84 ships with 25,000 soldiers to regain control of its most precious colony and placed a sinister character in command: Donatien Marie Joseph de Vimeur, Count of Rochambeau. In his novel Estela, Emeric Bergeaud describes him as follows: “his small stature, his angular features, his haughty gaze, which complement the approximate portrait of his moral ugliness.” Rochambeau committed atrocities from the moment he landed in Saint Domingue, including the use of dogs trained to hunt and kill. In a letter to his commander Ramel dated May 6, 1803, he writes: “I am sending you, my dear commander, a detachment of 50 men from the Cape National Guard, commanded by M. Bari; they are bringing 28 mastiffs. These reinforcements will also enable you to complete your operations. I will not let you ignore that you will not be paid any rations or expenses for feeding these dogs. You must give them blacks to eat.”

Rochambeau did not count on the determination of a people fighting for their freedom. L’Overture did not die in vain, and the flags he waved were taken up by Jean Jacques Dessalines, who led the resistance and heroically defeated the most powerful army in Europe at Vertières 222 years ago.

Dessalines assumed power as emperor, as Napoleon Bonaparte would do that same year. But unlike Napoleon, Dessalines promoted a constitution for a nation of free men and women. Slavery was abolished forever, freedom of worship was established, and divorce was permitted. Likewise, respect for the self-determination of peoples was established, without this preventing Dessalines from supporting revolutionaries such as Francisco de Miranda or, later, Alexandre Pétion and Simón Bolívar. The latter not only obtained ships, weapons, ammunition, and combatants. Bolívar obtained a political project from the Haitian revolution, and from there the Liberation Army would become a popular army that would end Spanish colonial rule from the Caribbean coast to the Andean highlands. Haiti was a beacon of light on the continent.

Today, when US imperial arrogance threatens the entire continent with its military power, we must remember that powerful imperial armies have been defeated time and again by the Caribbean peoples. The Battle of Vertières is a historical milestone that has been rendered invisible by hegemonic historiography. The Haitian feat must be studied, discussed, and understood. Haiti was a beacon of light that today succumbs to the interests of the Global North but carries within it the seed of rebellion, just as the Caribbean peoples who inherited that seed. Today, in the face of the military threat from the United States in the Caribbean, we remember the Battle of Vertières and what peoples are capable of when they are determined to decide their own destiny.

Guillermo R Barreto is Venezuelan and holds a PhD in Science (Oxford University). Retired professor at Simón Bolívar University (Venezuela). He was Deputy Minister of Science and Technology, president of the National Science and Technology Fund, and Minister of Ecosocialism and Water (Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela). He is currently a researcher at the Tricontinental Institute for Social Research and a visiting collaborator at the Center for the Study of Social Transformations-IVIC.

This article was produced by Globetrotter.

Courtesy: Peoples Dispatch

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Industry is Biggest Barrier to Tackling Ultra-Processed Food Harm

Ana Vračar | 24 Nov 2025

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Researchers and activists warn that the UPF industry exerts a powerful chokehold over global food systems, urging urgent action.

Source: Wikimedia Commons

A new series of articles published in The Lancet examines the influence of the ultra-processed food (UPF) industry on today’s food systems, identifying it as a central driver of an increasingly urgent public health crisis. Researchers and activists from around the world warn that despite strong scientific evidence on the harms of UPF-dominated diets – and despite the availability of policies that could address them – UPF producers and their allies continue to obstruct reform.

“We propose that the key driver of the global rise in UPFs is the growing economic and political power of the UPF industry, and its restructuring of food systems for profitability above all else – especially by the business practices of its leading corporations – in an increasingly financially-driven, capitalist world economy,” the authors of one article write.

Between 2009 and 2023, global UPF sales rose from USD 1.5 trillion to USD 1.9 trillion. This growth has benefited not only corporate giants headquartered in North America and Western Europe, such as Nestlé, Coca-Cola, and Mondelez, but also their suppliers, marketing firms, and affiliated researchers. The article notes that the industry’s model rests precisely on profit maximization. UPF manufacturers rely on cheap ingredients and industrial processing to keep production costs low compared with traditional and local food systems; this allows them to create food-like products using inexpensive compounds, while simultaneously driving consumption through aggressive advertising and the engineered palatability of these products.

“In capitalist economies,” the authors write, “where investments flow to the most profitable firms and industries, this drives the structural transformation of food systems in favor of ultra-processed diets.” This dynamic creates a vicious cycle where the UPF industry depletes food systems worldwide yet is rewarded financially, including through shareholder payouts. Between 1962 and 2021, the article suggests, more than half of the USD 2.9 trillion in shareholder payments linked to US food production came from the UPF sector, further boosting the industry’s appeal.

But internal profit logic is not the only factor behind the industry’s rise. Major UPF corporations – notably Nestlé, Coca-Cola, Unilever, PepsiCo, Danone, Mars, Mondelez, and Ferrero – have mirrored tactics long associated with the tobacco, alcohol, and fossil fuel industries. These include lobbying governments, shaping policy language and models, and hijacking public debate. This kind of political activity, the authors argue, “is the most important barrier to the implementation of effective public policies to reduce UPF-related harms.”

Circle size shows how many links each group has in the UPF industry network. Colors indicate different types of organizations: corporations, business associations, advertising groups, CSR and multi-stakeholder initiatives, food and beverage industry associations, infant nutrition groups, agribusiness organizations, and industry-funded science and consumer groups. Lines show declared memberships drawn from publicly available disclosures. Source: “Towards unified global action on ultra-processed foods: understanding commercial determinants, countering corporate power, and mobilizing a public health response”. Baker, Phillip et al. The Lancet, November 18, 2025

Crucially, these corporations do not operate in isolation. The articles series identifies around 200 interconnected interest groups, ranging from manufacturers’ associations to advertising and agroindustry lobby organizations, through which UPF producers organize their influence. Through this web of relations, the industry is able to impose its agenda, undermine progressive public health regulations, and sideline independent research.

Just like in the case of other harmful industries, governments in the Global North remain deeply influenced by UPF actors, often advancing their priorities through institutions such as the World Trade Organization. Yet the articles insist that today offers an important opportunity to change course. Despite industry pushback, scientific understanding of UPF-associated harms is expanding, and some countries have already introduced meaningful regulations. “Successes in Latin America and sub-Saharan Africa show that effectively regulating UPF production, marketing, and consumption is possible through multi-component policies, even in the face of strong industry resistance,” the authors note, citing progress in Mexico and Ghana, among others.

Still, they argue, fully transforming food systems requires far more coordinated action from policymakers, civil society, and activists, including broad coalitions capable of countering corporate pressure and advancing a just transformation of food systems. The series adds that such a transformation must be grounded in food sovereignty and adapted to local contexts, ensuring that workers currently employed in the UPF industry are not left behind. Potential policy solutions leading to this outcome, according to the articles, include stricter regulation of marketing, adequate taxes on actors profiting from UPF production and sales, but also – importantly – public investment in collective food provisioning such as school meal programs and community kitchens.

People’s Health Dispatch is a fortnightly bulletin published by the People’s Health Movement and Peoples Dispatch. For more articles and to subscribe to People’s Health Dispatch, click here.

Courtesy: Peoples Dispatch

New report suggests refugees could bring major economic benefits

19th November 2025Leave a Commenton New report suggests refugees could bring major economic benefits

“This report provides positive solutions, not divisive decisions which continue to fan the flames of hate.”

By the Public and Commercial Services Union (PCS)

The London School of Economics (LSE) report, commissioned by PCS and Together With Refugees, has officially launched in Parliament.

Welcoming Growth – the case for a fair and humane asylum system is a new policy report, supported by PCS. The report reveals that every refugee accepted into the UK would contribute over £260,000 to the UK economy if the proposed changes within the report were adopted. This includes a net benefit to the public purse of £53,000 each.

The four key policy changes within the report include:

• Asylum claims to be processed within six months
• Legal assistance at all stages of the application process
• English language support from day of arrival
• Employment support from day of arrival.

Speaking ahead of the launch in parliament, PCS general secretary Fran Heathcote said: “Today we are witnessing the government neglect its own plans for growth by taking a harder line against some of the most vulnerable people who come to this country, fleeing war, persecution and violence. To threaten refugees with the removal of their only belongings to pay for their cases is frankly a line I would expect from Reform.

“Our report shows that through embracing a humane and fair approach to asylum, we could assimilate refugees into our communities whilst ensuring they can contribute and support themselves. This report provides positive solutions, not divisive decisions which continue to fan the flames of hate.”

Other key findings within the report include:

Overall economy – The four changes to the asylum system would mean a contribution to the UK economy from every refugee of £265,788 over 12.5 years from arrival.

Accommodation – The changes to the system would result in a net saving in accommodation costs of £42,000 per asylum seeker over a 12.5-year period from arrival. This equates to a 34% saving in the total cost of accommodation for asylum seekers over the period (from £144,000 to £79,000). This is because by expediting the application process to six months, people can be self-sufficient sooner – meaning housing costs would be paid by the individual, rather than the state, a year earlier.

Public Purse – The four interventions in the model would benefit the UK exchequer by £53,000 per refugee over 12.5 years from arrival. This includes a net contribution of £7,000 for every refugee to the public purse just by expediting the asylum application system to six months and providing legal assistance throughout the process. This financial benefit takes into account all the associated costs of supporting asylum seekers from arrival, as well as the expense of creating and implementing the four proposed changes to the asylum system.

Employment – Every £1 invested in English classes and employment support from day one results in £9 in increased salary–over the 12.5 years from arrival. This equates to a 76% increase in total employment income, reflecting the cumulative effects of faster processing, language training, and employment support. This, in turn, means significant benefit to the economy and public purse.

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• You follow the PCS on Facebook, Twitter/X and Instagram, and their General Secretary Fran Heathcote on Twitter/X.
• This was originally published on the PCS website on 17 November 2025.