Active Maoist strength has reduced to 1,500 to 2000 in India. In pic, security personnel after a CPI (Maoist) central committee member was killed in an encounter in Bokaro district of Jharkhand in April this year.
Credit: PTI photo
Dandakaranya/Bhadrachalam/Bijapur/Sukma: Kunjam Pandi, a 14-year-old tribal girl from Rampuram in Chhattisgarh’s Bijapur district bordering Telangana, once navigated the forests with youthful exuberance.
Today, she moves with the help of a walker, her left leg lost to a pressure bomb that she accidentally stepped on while collecting firewood in February this year. The bomb was planted by Maoists aiming to target security forces. The explosion changed her life forever.
“Sometimes my friends make fun of my disability. What wrong have I done? I was just collecting firewood like any other day,” she told DH in Dandakaranya, a hotbed of Maoist activity. Her mother has pleaded with a local private health worker to take her daughter to Bhadrachalam for a prosthetic leg.
Pandi’s story epitomises the human cost of India’s six-decade-long Naxalite conflict, which has affected more than 12 states. The government claims the movement is in its final phase and has vowed to eliminate it entirely by March 2026 through Operation Kagar, an expansive counterinsurgency campaign launched in 2023.
The topography of Dandakaranya and the surrounding districts bears the signs of a protracted conflict. Villages like Bheemaram, Kasturipadu, Pujarikanker, Galgam, Nambi, and Usur in Bijapur — once known for intense Maoist activity — now host CRPF camps every five to ten kilometres. CRPF personnel ride in convoys of motorcycles for what they call “area domination,” and bulletproof Critical Situation Response Vehicles have become a regular feature in daily village life.
The government asserts that coordinated military offensives, such as Operation Kagar, coupled with development initiatives, have helped bring the Naxalite insurgency under control and restored stability to formerly volatile regions.
Credit: DH Illustration
However, critics argue that without addressing deeper structural issues, such as unresolved land disputes, widespread displacement, and entrenched economic marginalisation, the insurgency’s foundations remain intact.
They caution that dismantling the current Maoist leadership may offer only a temporary reprieve, as new forms of unrest are likely to surface unless the underlying inequalities are meaningfully confronted.
“Why would I have joined the movement if local authorities had sorted out my land issues? They took sides and left us with nothing,” said Nupa Lakma, a former village-level committee member from Rampuram who recently surrendered. His decision to surrender was prompted by fear and disillusionment. “I still remember entering the camp and seeing helicopters hovering overhead. We were terrified and decided to give up,” he recalled.
The last of the Maoists
After nearly six decades of armed insurgency, India’s Naxalite movement appears to be facing its final chapter. What began as a peasant uprising in Naxalbari, West Bengal, in 1967, has evolved into one of the country’s longest-running internal security challenges.
Intelligence sources revealed that active Maoist strength has plummeted from thousands to just 1,500 to 2,000 fighters, while their central committee has shrunk from 44 members to 18. The Red Corridor, which once stretched across 10 states covering 40,000 square kilometres, has dramatically diminished.
The turning point came with Operation Kagar, also known as Operation Black Forest, launched in 2023. While the operation has largely remained under wraps, it was launched in response to deadly attacks in Sukma-Bijapur (2021) and Dantewada (2023).
Credit: DH Illustration
Spurred by intelligence reports of Maoist regrouping along the Chhattisgarh-Telangana border, the Modi government shifted from fragmented tactics to a coordinated, multi-state offensive involving thousands of paramilitary troops and advanced surveillance tools like drones and satellites.
This comprehensive counterinsurgency operation has delivered devastating blows to Maoist leadership, eliminating approximately 340 cadres in the past year alone, many of them senior commanders who had led the movement for decades.
Over the decades, India has launched multiple military offensives in its effort to reclaim territory from Naxalite control. One of the most controversial was Salwa Judum (2005–2011), a state-backed civilian militia that armed tribal communities against Maoists.
Though billed as a “peace march” in Gondi, it was later disbanded after the Supreme Court deemed it unconstitutional due to widespread human rights violations.
Other campaigns, such as Operation Green Hunt (2009–2010), a term popularised by the media for a major paramilitary offensive, faced setbacks from challenging terrain and weak administrative support. Critics argue that while these operations initially delivered tactical victories, they failed to dismantle the movement, as Maoists repeatedly adapted and regrouped.
Threads unravel
In its earlier years, the Naxalite movement operated through a multi-layered support system. Its strength came not only from armed guerrillas but also from a network of frontal organisations, student groups, civil rights activists, and sympathetic intellectuals who offered legal counsel, ideological support, and helped identify potential recruits.
"The government systematically weakened the Naxal movement by banning frontal organisations," a former Naxal told DH. "Without student wings in colleges and universities, which were labelled as radical, where do you find recruits? How do you propagate the ideology among the general public to garner sympathy or support? There has always been constant surveillance on civil rights activists and others," the former Naxal added.
On the ground, tribal communities, often dispossessed of their land and neglected by state institutions, formed the backbone of local support, providing shelter, intelligence, and workforce.
Many recruits joined the movement in their adolescence, drawn in by a lack of alternatives.
A surrendered militia member who joined the Maoists at the age of 16 explains this trajectory. “I joined because I had no other choice. There were no jobs, no schools, and landlords were exploiting our families,” he said. Like many, he was initially attracted by promises of justice and equality, but years of surveillance, fear, and violence led to deep disillusionment.
As a militia member, his role was to gather intelligence and act as a courier, supporting the armed units without directly engaging in combat. He surrendered after learning that the special operation had begun, looking at the heavy deployment of forces, arms and ammunition.
The human cost of this prolonged conflict is evident in the story of Chodi Pojji, 29, from Kistarampadu, a tribal village in Telangana. After spending 12 years with the Maoist party, she surrendered in October, enticed by a Rs 4 lakh rehabilitation package.
“I wanted to leave and informed the leadership, but they initially refused. I had no choice. There was no one to care for my ageing mother, sister-in-law, and her two children,” said Pojji, also known as Chilaka. A trained guerrilla, she had operated sophisticated weapons like SLRs, AK-47s, and BG launchers during her time in the outfit.
Her husband, Sandeep, also a Maoist, is currently in jail, while her elder brother, Sodi Jogayya (alias Jogu), a feared figure in the Bhadrachalam-Kothagudem region, was killed in an encounter in 2020.
Criticism
On the other side of the battle, the District Reserve Guard (DRG), a specialised police force established in Chhattisgarh in 2008 to counter Left-Wing Extremism, has become a controversial symbol of the state's evolving tactics. Critics argue that while the government claims to be fostering peace and development, it often relies on the same violence it urges Maoists to abandon.
“The movement can only be dismantled if law and order is upheld consistently,” said Gujjula Venugopal Reddy, a human rights activist working in tribal areas of Bhadrachalam and Kothagudem. “Look at the recent killings, only the old and ailing leaders have been eliminated, while the young cadres remain active. The government talks of peace but uses weapons to enforce it,” he said.
A former Maoist, who surrendered years ago, offered a broader analysis of the state's strategy. “Both central and state governments have relied on low-intensity conflict (LIC) tactics, blending covert operations with welfare measures, to contain the movement. These strategies may temporarily weaken support for insurgency but stop short of addressing the root causes. The names change — Salwa Judum, Operation Green Hunt, now Operation Kagar—but the underlying approach remains the same,” he said.
The LIC doctrine, developed during the Cold War and refined in US counterinsurgency campaigns in Vietnam and Latin America, does not aim for a swift military victory.
Instead, it seeks to gradually erode insurgent influence by isolating them from their support base through a mix of targeted violence, psychological operations, and selective development schemes.
In India, this model has manifested in controversial forms: Surrendered Maoists are often re-employed as Special Police Officers, which critics say blurs the line between state enforcement and vigilante justice.
Credit: DH Illustration
“Salwa Judum, which was outlawed by the Supreme Court, has returned in the form of the DRG, now composed of surrendered Maoists under the BJP government,” the former Maoist added.
“The government equates development with infrastructure, especially wide, tarred roads. When villagers resist, contracts are handed to locals to co-opt the opposition, using development as a tool to divide,” he said.
The long arc of counterinsurgency in India reflects a familiar pattern seen across global conflicts where state forces confront communist or leftist guerrilla movements. The question now is whether tactical success on the battlefield can translate into lasting peace without resolving the deeper socio-economic inequalities that first fuelled the insurgency.
Turning point
The killing of 27 Maoists in Chhattisgarh's Bastar region in May was seen as a major advancement for security forces. But it was the death of top Maoist leader Nambala Keshav Rao that marked a true turning point in the decades-long insurgency.
The 70-year-old General Secretary of the CPI (Maoist), carrying a bounty of Rs 1.5 crore, was the mastermind behind several high-profile attacks, including the 2010 Dantewada ambush that killed 76 CRPF personnel, and the 2013 Jeeram Ghati attack in which 27 people were killed.
Union Home Minister Amit Shah hailed Rao’s killing as a ‘landmark achievement’. Known by several aliases including Basavaraj, Gaganna, and Prakash, Keshav Rao was born in 1955 in Jiyannapet village in Andhra Pradesh’s Srikakulam district.
He studied engineering at the Regional Engineering College (now NIT) in Warangal, where he became involved in left-wing student politics. He co-founded the Communist Party of India (Marxist–Leninist) People’s War in 1980, and by 1992 was in the Central Committee. After the 2004 merger that formed CPI (Maoist), he became head of the Central Military Commission, joined the Politburo, and eventually became General Secretary in November 2018.
Following Rao’s death, security agencies are closely monitoring his possible successors. According to intelligence sources, two names have emerged as frontrunners — Thippiri Tirupathi, current chief of the Central Military Commission, and Mallojula Venugopal Rao, believed to be the party’s ideological head.
The Maoists are now facing their most severe leadership vacuum and organisational crisis in years. By their own admission, since the launch of Operation Kagar, they have been unable to convene core committee meetings due to scattered cadres and fractured leadership.
With no response from the Centre or the Chhattisgarh government to repeated peace talk proposals, the Maoists have turned to civil society, urging them to pressure Union Home Minister Amit Shah to declare a ceasefire and initiate peace negotiations.
The Red Corridor, historically stretching across parts of Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, Odisha, Maharashtra, Telangana, Andhra Pradesh, Bihar, West Bengal, Madhya Pradesh, and Uttar Pradesh, has contracted sharply.
According to data from the Ministry of Home Affairs, the number of left-wing extremism-affected districts has declined from 126 to 90 in April 2018, then to 70 in July 2021, and further to 38 in April 2024. The most affected districts have shrunk from 12 to 6. The six districts are Bijapur, Kanker, Narayanpur, and Sukma in Chhattisgarh; West Singhbhum in Jharkhand; and Gadchiroli in Maharashtra.
The region became the movement’s heartland due to a combination of geography, economics, and social neglect. The dense forests offered cover for guerrilla warfare, while the rich mineral deposits, coal, iron ore, and bauxite, attracted mining interests that displaced indigenous communities with little or no rehabilitation.
Credit: DH Illustration
For decades, these areas, predominantly inhabited by Scheduled Tribes, lacked basic infrastructure like roads, schools, hospitals, and telecom services. Landlords, moneylenders, and forest officials routinely exploited residents, fueling deep resentment.
The Maoists harnessed this anger, building a parallel governance structure in the vacuum left by the state, levying taxes and dispensing ‘instant justice.’
A former central intelligence official, who served in anti-Naxal operations for over two decades and recently took voluntary retirement, outlines the transformation: “The movement is no longer the ‘single biggest internal security threat’ as it was described in the 2000s. However, sporadic violence and unresolved socio-economic issues mean that the root causes of discontent have not been fully addressed.”
Challenges
Still, significant challenges remain. The alienation of tribal communities and exploitation continue in some areas. Displacement caused by mining and industrial projects generates new grievances. In regions with weak governance, Maoist remnants continue to survive and operate.
After six decades of armed insurgency, India’s Naxalite movement appears to be entering its final chapter. Through a sustained combination of security operations, development schemes, and shifting social dynamics, the state has succeeded in weakening what was once described as its greatest internal threat.
The transformation of the Red Corridor from a conflict zone to a region of relative calm and development stands as a major achievement in India's counterinsurgency strategy. However, the real measure of success will lie in resolving the root causes of discontent and ensuring that the benefits of development reach the most marginalised.
As Kunjam Pandi continues her struggle with disability, and Chodi Pojji navigates a new life after leaving the movement, their stories are a reminder that behind every statistic in this decades-long conflict lies a human story.