INDIA
Displacing Tribals For Tigers – OpEd
The Adivasis of the Kaimur Hills in Bihar are engulfed in turmoil, their fears mounting as they face the threat of displacement under the pretext of establishing a tiger reserve. Their protest is a desperate cry against what they see as an impending eviction from their ancestral lands.
These Adivasis, deeply connected to their natural resources, view violence as futile in achieving their democratic rights. With 108 tribal villages living in constant anxiety over potential displacement, many are resorting to a boycott of the upcoming Assembly elections to voice their dissent against the proposed tiger reserve in the Kaimur Wildlife Sanctuary. These villagers, whose ties to the forest date back to centuries ago, fear the displacement of around one lakh indigenous people from their home and hearth, highlighting their urgent struggle for survival and identity. Villagers and forest rights activists are demanding a complete rollback of the proposed tiger reserve– the forest dwellers in the area refer to the proposed tiger reserve as an “attempt to seize their forest land.”
The doubts and fears are not unfounded—the Adivasis in Kaimur hills are speaking out. They have already lost a huge portion of land in the Durgawati and Haraiya dams. When these two dams were constructed, the forest department was given around 5,000 hectares in this forest. It severely impacted their dwellings. They repeatedly sense that under the guise of development, there is a deliberate and calculated effort to displace them from their ancestral lands. It has become a subject of mockery to talk about the presence of tigers in this part of the Kaimur hills. Here, spotting a fox, jackal, or mongoose is considered a significant event.
“Despite spending years amidst these dense forests daily, none of us have ever seen or encountered a tiger here. The push to designate the sanctuary as a tiger reserve is nothing more than a ploy to seize our land and force us out,” says Raja Lal Singh Kharwar, working secretary of the Kaimur Mukti Morcha, an organization advocating for the rights of the indigenous communities in the Kaimur hill region.
These Adivasis are profound experts on their land and locality. According to them, leopards, bears, and crocodiles were visible in the area until 1990. However, due to the increasing pressure of human activity on the forests, these animals have either been wiped out or have moved to other regions. So, who exactly is behind the idea of turning this area into a tiger reserve by making it devoid of human presence? That’s what the Adivasis are eager to understand.
On the flip side, it is argued that wildlife has migrated from these forests due to deforestation. ‘The government, which seeks to evict us under the guise of establishing a tiger reserve, must own up to the loss of forest cover,’ says Raja Lal Singh Kharwar. ‘Even if tigers once roamed these woods, we are not afraid of them. We have historically co-existed with wildlife, and we refuse to be displaced. For us, it’s a matter of survival—do or die,’ he asserts.
The Kharwar and other tribal groups have an intimate bond with the forest, a connection forged through generations of deep knowledge about its orchards, trees, plants, shrubs, and herbs. This expertise enables them to craft medicines, food, and dyes vital for their survival. For them, the forest is more than a resource—it embodies their very essence. As they express, the forest is their soul; without it, their identity feels incomplete. This profound connection fuels their unwavering commitment to defend their land and way of life from any threats.
The planned tiger reserve in Kaimur district, alongside the existing Valmiki Tiger Reserve in West Champaran, showcases the state’s dedication to preserving its wildlife heritage. This expansion reflects a proactive stance in safeguarding the majestic big cats and their natural habitat, ensuring that conservation efforts continue to thrive while balancing the needs of the local communities.
The Adivasis have chosen to express their dissent through democratic means, believing that unity and collective action are their most effective options. While their lives have often been marked by resistance, they prefer to embrace the path of peace and dialogue. This incident from about four years ago starkly illustrated the disregard for democratic provisions and the principles enshrined in the Constitution.The peaceful protest of Adivasis in Adhaura Block, Kaimur District, took a tragic turn on September 11, 2020 when Bihar police opened fire on demonstrators, sparking outrage. Now, The devastating aftermath of this major event saw neither justice nor compensation.
The Adivasis could hardly have anticipated that standing united for their demands in a democratic manner would come at such a high cost. Just a day before the police firing, a remarkable assembly of thousands of Adivasis—including women, men, youths, and children—from Adhaura Block gathered in unity. Their voices echoed in front of the forest department office at Adhaura, a powerful testament to the collective will of a community fighting to be heard, demanding their rights and safeguarding their ancestral lands.
The dharna, rooted in peaceful resistance, began at the Birsa Munda Smarak Sthal, symbolizing the enduring spirit of Adivasi struggles. Over 10,000 pamphlets had been circulated since August 2020, informing the public and alerting government and forest department officials about the planned sit-in protest. Local journalists, who had closely followed the unfolding events, later spoke to the Fact-Finding Team, confirming the non-violent nature of the Adivasi demonstrations, further challenging the narrative of unrest perpetuated by authorities. The Adivasis were rallying for fundamental rights, demanding the immediate implementation of the Forest Rights Act, 2006, and the recognition of Kaimur as a Scheduled Area under the Fifth Schedule of the Constitution. Their voices also echoed the need for the effective enforcement of the Panchayats (Extension to Scheduled Areas) Act, 1996.
Central to their demands was the administrative reorganization of the Kaimur Valley. In a broader call for justice, they urged the scrapping of the oppressive 1927 colonial Indian Forest Act and pushed for the implementation of the Chota Nagpur Tenancy Act. Their fervor was further fueled by the proposal to abolish the Kaimur Forest Wildlife Sanctuary and Tiger Reserve, which they saw as a threat to their ancestral lands. These demands, steeped in historical grievances, remain unresolved, continuing to fuel the Adivasi movement.
The protest, met with deafening silence from the administration, grew tense as the day wore on. No officials arrived, no dialogue was offered. By 6 p.m., the Adivasis—gripped by the fear of losing their ancestral lands, forests, and lifeblood—took matters into their own hands. In a bold, symbolic act of defiance, they locked the gates of the forest department office. It was more than just a protest; it was a desperate, powerful statement—a battle cry from a marginalized community, demanding that their cries of oppression and displacement finally be heard.
On September 11, 2020, the sit-in dharna persisted, marking another tense day. Forest department officials arrived, forcibly breaking the locks and entering their office. By afternoon, in a bid to de-escalate, the Adivasi leaders sought dialogue with the officials. However, their efforts were met with hostility; the representatives were subjected to verbal abuse and physical aggression by the very people they approached for resolution. Without warning, a heavy police presence, including CRPF personnel, descended upon the scene. What followed was a brutal crackdown: the police unleashed a ferocious assault on the Adivasi demonstrators, opening fire and lathi-charging the protesters, turning a plea for dialogue into a harrowing display of state violence.
Amid the chaos of that fateful day, a chilling incident unfolded. Prabhu, an Adivasi from Chaphana village, was struck by a police bullet that severed a chunk of his ear’s muscle tissue. The brutality didn’t spare anyone; Adivasi men, women, youths, and children were ruthlessly lathi-charged, sustaining injuries that remained largely unreported. The violence did not end with the day’s events but continued unabated, leaving a trail of suffering and highlighting the relentless nature of police brutality in the wake of the clash.
On September 12, the Kaimur Mukti Morcha’s office in Adhaura was violently raided by the police, marking a grim escalation in the crackdown. Dozens of activists affiliated with the Morcha were unjustly arrested on fabricated charges. These individuals—Seepahi Singh, 65, from Goiyan; Dharmender Singh, 25, from Bardihya; Pappu Paswan, 23, from Jharpa; Lallan Singh Kharwa, 45, from Baraap; Kailash Singh, 62, from Bardiha; Ram Shakal Singh Kharwar, 52, from Goiyan; and Haricharan Singh, 65, from Sarainar—were initially detained in police custody. They were later paraded before the judicial magistrate of Kaimur district, their arrests a stark reminder of the state’s aggressive response to dissent.
All seven activists were detained and placed in judicial custody, facing a slew of serious charges under the Indian Penal Code (IPC): 144 (rioting), 148 (rioting with deadly weapons), 147 (punishment for rioting), 323 (voluntarily causing hurt), 307 (attempt to murder), 353 (assaulting public officials), 332 (causing hurt to deter public servant from duty), 333 (causing grievous hurt to deter public servant from duty), 337 (causing hurt by endangering life or personal safety), 338 (causing grievous hurt by endangering life or personal safety), 342 (wrongful confinement), and 427 (mischief causing damage). Additionally, charges under the Arms Act were filed. However, on October 16, 2020, all seven were granted bail, a temporary reprieve amidst ongoing legal and social turmoil.
Years later, the police overreach and ensuing violence in Bihar have starkly exposed the harsh reality: for the Adivasi community, civil rights and laws seem to hold little meaning. It is crucial to highlight that the police officials appear to have violated Article 19 (Right to Freedom) and Article 20(3) (Protection against Self-Incrimination) of the Indian Constitution. These constitutional provisions are designed to safeguard individual liberties and protect against self-incrimination. Additionally, the officials allegedly misused their authority under Section 165 of the Code of Criminal Procedure (CrPC), which governs the conduct of search and seizure operations, further compounding the breach of legal and constitutional norms.
The family of Subhash Singh Kharwar, named in FIR No. 71/20, is grappling with severe financial distress after losing all means of livelihood. His mother, Ganga Jali Devi, aged 59, along with his younger sister, Phulan Kumari, 17, and younger brother, Vinay Singh, 18, live in constant fear of being targeted by the district police. The family recounted their distressing experience, accusing police officials of misconduct. They claimed that the officers had forcibly entered their home without a search warrant or any official documentation, alleging an egregious violation of their rights and privacy.
The police officials were actively searching for Subhash Singh Kharwar and his younger brother, Chanderashok Singh Kharwar, who faced accusations under various sections of the Indian Penal Code (IPC). In another case, the family of Subhash Singh Kharwar, despite not participating in the sit-in dharna, faced severe harassment. On September 12, police officials—entirely male—raided their home when no male family members were present. Subhash, a philosophy lecturer at a state-run college, is deeply embedded in the community of Adhaura, advocating passionately for their land, forest, and water resources. His mother shared the profound struggles she faced raising her children after her husband’s death, highlighting her reliance on the forest during those hard times. She also recounted the ongoing threats and harassment from the forest department, detailing how locals are frequently subjected to unreasonable fines while collecting Non-Timber Forest Produce (NTFP) and firewood. The department often seizes their tools and livestock without consent. Despite these severe grievances, the government continues to suppress their voices rather than addressing their concerns.
In its obsession with establishing a tiger reserve, the government has sidelined human rights. Will the anguish of the Adivasis, disillusioned with state laws and authorities, ever be alleviated? Such hope seems increasingly futile. The experience of the villagers from Biduri was deeply distressing. Police officials, accompanied by CRPF personnel, raided their village with a brutal force, leaving a trail of devastation. The villagers faced threats and verbal abuse as the authorities ransacked their homes. When questioned about the reasons behind such aggressive behavior, the villagers attributed it to the recent two-day sit-in dharna demonstration at Adhaura block. Many from Biduri recounted their painful ordeal– they had sought to voice their grief and concerns to their elected representatives, only to be met with violence—police batons and bullets—instead of the empathy and redress they had hoped for. Has anyone ever ventured to unravel the rationale behind the narrative of tiger conservation that casts such a dark shadow? What are the government’s justifications for this deeply contested saga?
This suppressed story is interwoven with numerous subplots—how tragic it is that amidst political upheavals, tales of state-sponsored oppression are subtly shoved into the background. Otherwise, would the government remain so silent about the atrocities committed by the police in Bardiha village if similar injustices were perpetrated around metropolitan areas?
Dharmendra Singh, a 25-year-old Kharwar Adivasi youth, was also implicated under similar charges as Subhash Singh Kharwar and his younger brother. Dharmendra, affiliated with Kaimur Mukti Morcha (KMM), participated in the democratically organized two-day sit-in dharna at Adhaura Block. Villagers emphasized that the KMM activists, including Dharmendra, were respected elders and village leaders who adhered to proper protocols by securing permissions from local administration before finalizing the protest venue. Their adherence to procedural norms underscores the legitimacy of their actions and the stark contrast to the unjust treatment they received.
The plateau, also known as the Rohtas Plateau, encompasses 131 villages of forest dwellers across the Kaimur and Rohtas districts in South Bihar. Kaimur, renowned for its expansive forest cover and mineral-rich hills, sits at the crossroads of Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, and Jharkhand. This westernmost district of Bihar, part of the Kaimur plateau and flanked by the Bhagelkhand Mountains and Chotanagpur Plateau, is home to approximately 1.6 million people across 11 community development blocks.
Among these, Adhoura block stands out, with over 51% of its population belonging to Scheduled Tribes. It has been a focal point of Adivasi struggles for the past two to three decades, largely due to the inadequate development plans of the Bihar and national governments and the encroachment on indigenous lands. The region, inhabited by communities such as Kharwar, Gond, Urav, and Karoba, also hosts Bihar’s largest wildlife sanctuary—the Kaimur Wildlife Sanctuary. Until the early 1990s, the tribes of Kaimur, who lived off the forest’s bounty, navigated their lives with minimal interference. But the landscape shifted dramatically in 1996 when the Kaimur plateau was designated a wildlife sanctuary. Suddenly, the forest department began curbing their access, restricting entry and banning the collection of vital resources like mahua, tendu leaves, and piyar.
The tribals’ challenges were further compounded by the area’s classification as part of the ‘Red Corridor,’ where the state’s increased enforcement was justified by the presence of Maoist activity. Despite this, the Kaimur Mukti Morcha, a resilient people’s movement, played a pivotal role in reversing the trend. By 2010, the Bihar government declared the region free of Maoist influence, but the battle for their rights continued.
In 2018, tensions reignited in the Kaimur region, particularly in Adhoura and surrounding areas, with the proposal to establish a tiger reserve within the existing wildlife sanctuary. This move was spearheaded by the then Divisional Forest Officer (DFO), who reportedly discovered pug marks and carcasses of wild prey. The government argues that the reserve is essential, as the state’s sole other tiger reserve, the Valmiki Tiger Reserve, is nearing its capacity. However, the villagers of Adhoura and nearby blocks are fiercely opposing this proposal, fearing it will displace over 50,000 tribal inhabitants. Despite the region’s extensive forest cover and significant scheduled tribe population, successive governments have yet to implement the Forest Rights Act of 2006 or extend the Panchayat Extension for Scheduled Areas (PESA) to this area. Amidst all these facts, circumstances, and possibilities, it seemed as if a large-scale violent struggle was being scripted. For centuries, the Adivasis have been deprived of their basic civil rights. The residents of Kaimur have little to show in terms of their rights—beyond the grains from the public distribution system, occasional relief packages, residential schools for their children, and the presence of MGNREGA. Beyond this, democracy seems to symbolize merely a deep chasm.
The Adivasi community sought to initiate a crucial dialogue with the administration, demanding justice for the blatant disregard and non-implementation of vital legal protections: the Forest Rights Act of 2006, the Panchayats (Extension to Scheduled Areas) Act of 1996, and the Chota Nagpur Tenancy Act. These laws are essential constitutional rights for India’s Scheduled Tribes. However, on September 11, the police and local administration executed a meticulously planned assault on the protest site. In a shocking display of force, police officials unleashed a ruthless barrage of batons, guns, and bullets upon the peaceful Adivasi protestors, transforming their quest for justice into a scene of unrestrained violence. Such brutality was never endured by the ancestors of these Adivasis, neither under the Mughal rule nor during their resistance against the British. Four years after the story of police brutality, the accusations against the Adivasis remain unresolved. No disciplinary action has been taken against the violent police force, and their demands have not been sympathetically considered. It is clear that the government is adamant about implementing this project with unwavering rigor.
Ramraji Kharwar, one of the women affected by the violence, displayed the injuries she sustained from the police lathi-charge. She conveyed that the combined efforts of the government, forest department, and police were designed to intimidate the Adivasi people into surrendering their ancestral lands. Ramraji passionately articulated how the forest is not just a resource but a vital part of the community’s existence, underpinning their way of life. Her voice was resolute and powerful as she asserted their undeniable claims to land and forest rights, emphasizing their deep, symbiotic relationship with the forest that sustains them.
Kavindra Singh, a local journalist from Bardiha village, who was covering the two-day sit-in dharna for the local Hindi newspaper, Dainik Jagran. Kavindra emphasized that the dharna was a legitimate democratic exercise aimed at peacefully protesting against oppressive and anti-people laws. He confirmed that the Kaimur Mukti Morcha (KMM) activists had obtained proper permission from the police department for the venue and had made arrangements to ensure the maintenance of law and order during the protest. His account underscored the peaceful and orderly nature of the demonstration and the activists’ adherence to legal protocols.
The tales of violence remain timeless, unshaken by the passage of years or the weight of historical upheavals. It is deeply troubling that state-sponsored brutality often targets the Adivasi and Dalit communities. The silence from civil society over the police firing in Adhaura could be interpreted as a reflection of the long-buried frustrations of a feudal system that once exploited the Kaimur forests and its people through ruthless contract-based plunder. Despite their relentless efforts, these forces have failed to dominate Kaimur and its resilient inhabitants.
As a result, civil society, both locally and across the state, has distanced itself from the violence inflicted on these Adivasis. Kavindra Singh’s statement thus deserves serious attention and reflection. He recounted his version of the events to the team. He noted that during the protest, it became evident that public servants, who are supposed to serve the citizens, ignored the grievances of the people. In response, the protesters decided to lock the already secured forest ranger’s office as a symbolic gesture of their frustration. The following day, they returned to the protest site, only to find that the office had been forcibly broken into. Despite the gathering of people from 108 villages, no official came to address their concerns.
When the villagers attempted to enter the ranger’s office to engage in dialogue, they were met with unprovoked police violence. The police lathi-charged the unarmed, helpless villagers, including women and children, causing widespread injuries. The situation quickly escalated, with the sound of 4 to 5 gunshots ringing out. Within a few hours, the Divisional Forest Officers, Rangers, and the Thana Prabhari (Police Station In-charge) arrived in Adhaura, further intensifying the tense and volatile situation.
Goiyan village in the Dumrawan panchayat, home to the Kharwar Adivasi community is now known as a settlement of tragedies. The people here have had to pay a heavy price simply for being Adivasis. . Here, villagers revealed that approximately 100 residents from Goiyan participated in the dharna. Phoolmatiya and Samudri, both of whom had endured police assaults. Phoolmatiya, in particular, was injured on her chest. Additionally, Sipahi Singh and Ramshakal Singh, both 65 years old, were taken into custody. They had been called to the police office by the Superintendent of Police and the Subdivisional Officer under the pretense of a dialogue. However, around 5 p.m. on September 12, they were arrested and detained in Adhaura’s police custody.
The testimonies from Goiyan underscore the harsh realities faced by the community amidst their struggle for justice.
Rajalal Singh Kharwar spoke passionately about the profound and symbiotic bond the Adivasis share with their forest and its ecosystem. He pointed out that wildlife is increasingly fleeing the diminishing forests, a direct result of the encroaching activities by the government and forest departments that disrupt Adivasi lands and degrade their environment– rather than alienating the Adivasi people from their vital forest resources in the name of conservation, the government should be held accountable for the loss of forest cover. He emphasized that the real responsibility lies with those who are compounding the environmental damage, not with the people who have long lived in harmony with these lands.
Kharwar asserted that the vulnerable tribal communities were left with no choice but to boycott the coming assembly polls, as authorities responded to their peaceful sit-in at Adhaura Block with excessive force instead of addressing their legitimate demands for water, forest, and land rights. The authorities’ brutal actions not only escalated the peaceful protest into violence but also led to severe consequences, including bullet injuries for one activist and numerous arrests. The police further compounded the situation by forcibly breaking into the Kaimur Mukti Morcha’s office and conducting raids. Kharwar condemned the routine practice of arresting activists and labeling them as Maoists. Despite the relentless police violence and the misuse of state power, he vowed that the struggle for justice would persist through democratic means. He, along with six others, has previously been charged under various sections of the Indian Penal Code and Section 27 of The Arms Act, 1959, for unlawful gathering and other offenses.
As the team made their way back, they couldn’t help but notice the dire state of infrastructure in the region. The roads were poorly maintained, and there was a significant lack of ambulance services. Schools had been closed due to the pandemic, with no provision for online or remedial classes. The team also observed the devastation wrought upon the Adivasi mud houses, which had been destroyed arbitrarily by the forest department. Has the government forgotten what the law says about the homes built by Adivasis–Section 4(1) of the Act categorically mentions that no member of a forest dwelling Scheduled Tribe or other traditional forest dwellers shall be evicted or removed from forest land under his occupation.
According to the Act, even a plantation drive in the forest requires approval from the Gram Sabha. But these regulations have been flouted in the Adhaura block. The Panchayat (Extension to the Scheduled Areas) Act (PESA) 1996, in fact, upholds the self-determination of Adivasis and grants the Gram Sabha authority over managing natural resources. This breach also contradicts the Supreme Court’s ruling in the case of Odisha Mining Corporation Vs Ministry of Forest and Environment (C) No. 180 of 2011, which unequivocally asserts that the Gram Sabha holds ownership of natural resources. Consequently, common land, sacred groves, and forest areas cannot be acquired without the consent of the Gram Sabhas.
The Kaimur region, now becoming a land of violence, stands as a stark symbol of civic despair. The government has yet to reveal its resettlement policies or programs, neither to the Panchayat nor to the families affected by the project. Violence often has its roots, and enduring it becomes a matter of compulsion. Among the Adivasis, there is a growing chorus of frustration and sorrow, echoing the profound sense of disillusionment and helplessness.
“Our four acres of land, divided among my three brothers and me, sustain us for just four months each year through our paddy and wheat crops. For the rest of the year, we turn to the forest for survival. We gather valuable forest products like tendu patta, amla, mahua, chironji, baheda, and lasora, which we sell to support our families. But ever since the tiger reserve proposal, collecting and selling these essential goods has become a criminal act. Now, when we attempt to sell them discreetly, we receive far less money because buyers are forced to bribe forest officials,” explained Basawan Singh Kharwar, from Goiyan village in Adhaura Tehsil, Kaimur district.
The state government has assured that no displacement will occur, even if the sanctuary is declared a tiger reserve. The forest department echoes this commitment, promising that residents will not be displaced. Recently, the local DFO of the Shahabad Range urged locals to disregard any rumors. Tiger reserves are established under the Wildlife Protection Act and the Indian Forests Act primarily to secure additional funding from the Centre for area development. The government insists that these measures are unrelated to the people living in the area.
The disparity between the government’s claims of good governance, inclusivity, and development, and the harsh reality on the ground, felt like a stark and unfulfilled promise.The spine chilling incident recorded in administrative files as the Adhoura firing has been deemed a necessary step for maintaining law and order in the state. However, Prabhu’s account from Chaphana village in Sadki Panchayat reveals the grim reality of humanity gasping its last breaths within the boundaries of democracy.
This atmosphere of mistrust and despair suffocates all hopes for a brighter future, leaving a stark contrast to the ideals of justice and empathy that society should strive for. Prabhu, the injured Adivasi who had sustained a bullet wound to his ear. Upon my arrival, the atmosphere in the village was one of palpable fear and anxiety. The villagers were deeply apprehensive and initially reluctant to speak, suspecting that the team might be affiliated with the forest department. Under the guise of combating Maoist violence, the government is expanding its presence by erecting additional CRPF camps in kaimur hills. These tactics, perceived by many as blatant attempts to crush opposition, only add to the villagers’ despair. Despite the risk of being branded as Naxalites, they grapple with the stark reality of having their fundamental rights to water, forest, and land stripped away. What choice do they have when their very essence and survival are at stake?
The displacement of indigenous people from their ancestral lands in the aftermath of the Bihar-Jharkhand split marks a first of its kind. Kaimur, long a victim of centuries of exploitation, stands as a witness to these tragic events. For the first time since independence, such a large-scale devastation of its citizens is occurring in Bihar. The indigenous people have faced brutal attacks with batons and bullets, and have been subjected to tear gas in Adhoura. Was this truly the purpose of freedom, or was there something more?
Amarendra Kishore
Amarendra Kishore is an independent journalist residing in Delhi, whose work delves into the heart of public affairs. Through his narratives, he offers an exploration of social and gender dynamics, the rich yet challenging tapestry of rural life, and the stark realities of poverty. His journalism sheds light on the adversities faced by indigenous communities and eloquently advocates for the urgent need to reconnect natural resources with local lives.
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