Gadhchiroli in Maharashtra occupies a place in India’s Maoist history no less significant than Naxalbari in West Bengal, where the first sparks of the movement were lit.
It was in April 2006, after Maoists blew up an armoured, landmine-proof vehicle in this district, that then Prime Minister Manmohan Singh famously described Naxalism as “the single biggest internal security challenge ever faced by our country.”
Barely a year and a half earlier, he had warned that large swathes of tribal territory from Andhra Pradesh in the south to the borders of Uttar Pradesh and Bengal in the north and east, respectively, had become “the hunting ground of left-wing extremists.”
Nineteen years later, the same Gadhchiroli has witnessed a symbolic turning point. Senior Maoist leader Mallojula Venugopal Rao—known as Bhupathi—surrendered before Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis along with 60 other cadres.
Bhupathi, who carried a combined bounty of Rs 6 crore announced by six states, was one of the most influential strategists of the Maoist movement, overseeing operations along the Maharashtra-Chhattisgarh border. His surrender, followed closely by 50 Maoists laying down arms in Chhattisgarh’s Kanker district, has led officials to claim that “the core family of the Naxal movement” has effectively ended.
So far, 450 Maoists have surrendered this year alone—a figure that seems to confirm the Chief Minister’s assertion that the movement has lost much of its steam. Fadnavis has promised that those who surrendered will be rehabilitated with dignity and that one lakh “sons of the soil” from Gadhchiroli will find employment locally, as the district transforms into a steel hub over the next few years.
A striking development is that Lloyd Metals and Energy Limited (LMEL), a major mining company once targeted by Maoists, has offered to employ all surrendered militants and even plans to project Bhupathi as its brand ambassador.
The irony is inescapable: the same company whose operations the Maoists had violently opposed—even to the extent of killing one of its senior officials—is now being portrayed as a partner in peace and rehabilitation.
While violence must be unequivocally condemned, it is important to recall why such movements took root in the first place. The commercial exploitation of tribal lands—whether under colonial rule, during the Licence Raj, or in the liberalised economy—has rarely benefited the tribals themselves.
They remain among the poorest and most displaced sections of Indian society. Gadhchiroli’s recent surrenders may well mark the ebbing of Maoist militancy, but peace without justice is fragile. If the state’s victory is to endure, it must ensure that the tribals—whose lands fuel India’s growth—receive not just jobs but an equitable share in development, dignity, and decision-making. Only then will the guns fall silent for good.
