The struggle for Sijimali: Odisha's story of resistance and the ensuing hardships

The unrest in Odisha’s Sijimali exposes the fault lines between mining-led development and the rights of Adivasi communities over land, forests and consent.

History offers ample evidence of a persistent pattern: those in power have consistently exploited the weak, dispossessing them of both resources and rights. From the monarchies of antiquity to the Mughal and British colonial regimes, and even within the framework of post-Independence democratic governments, successive systems of authority have repeatedly pushed marginalised communities to the periphery.

This marginalisation has rarely been a mere coincidence; it has typically commenced with the dispossession of land and gradually escalated to the violation of fundamental rights.

What renders this trend particularly alarming is its persistence in contemporary India, where, despite the ambitious vision of a ‘Viksit Bharat’, these entrenched dynamics of dispossession and inequality remain largely untransformed. A recent example is unfolding in Sijimali in Odisha, where indigenous inhabitants are being dispossessed of their land, which is then being handed over to industrial tycoons.

Moreover, when these indigenous people peacefully gather to defend their ancestral lands, the administration launches violent assaults. For the past month, the administration has imposed a curfew in Sijimali, backed by the heavy deployment of police and paramilitary forces.

The local populace alleges that the administration has taken these measures specifically to ensure the unimpeded construction of a 3.4-km-long approach road, cutting through forest land from Bichhapinda to the Sijimali mineral block, for Vedanta Limited, thereby preventing any interference from the local community. To understand the process by which the government displaces local communities from their forests, water sources, and land, it is essential to first gain a deep understanding of the issue at hand.

The site of conflict

Since 2023, unrest has grown among local communities after Vedanta emerged as the preferred bidder for bauxite mining, securing a 1,549-hectare lease in a region with an estimated 311 million tonnes of high-grade reserves. The Sijimali bauxite project falls within the Fifth Schedule areas of Rayagada and Kalahandi, where the Panchayats (Extension to Scheduled Areas) Act, 1996, and the Forest Rights Act (FRA), 2006, are to be strictly enforced.

Despite the Supreme Court of India’s Niyamgiri ruling requiring gram sabha consent, a one-month curfew was imposed in the area on April 3. Despite pending petitions in the Odisha High Court and incomplete approvals for Vedanta, the government began road construction for the company. Furthermore, the administration launched a police crackdown in Kantamal village on April 7, which led to the arrest of 21 Adivasis, including pregnant and nursing women, raising serious human rights concerns.

These developments have transformed a situation, originally a proposed infrastructure development initiative, into a site of persistent conflict. They also point to a recurring pattern in which mining-based development in resource-rich regions proceeds alongside escalating tensions over land, the law, and local autonomy. 

The unfolding events in Sijimali shed light on a question that extends far beyond the immediate conflict: it is not merely a matter of whether consent was obtained but rather of how that consent is, in reality, shaped. In such a context, the distinction between consent and mere compliance becomes blurred. 

For communities in Sijimali, the forests are central to daily life, providing food, water, firewood, and medicine while shaping farming practices, social ties, and cultural traditions. This bond with the land is reflected in the way residents speak of Sijimali, not merely as a geographical area, but as a shared source of identity and continuity. It is within this context that resistance has taken root. In this light, the resistance in Sijimali extends beyond opposition to a single project, reflecting a wider struggle to protect a way of life rooted in the land.

Residents have declared they will not hand over their ‘mother’, Sijimali, to outside companies or allow mining to proceed. They warn that any attempt to do so will be met with unwavering resistance against both State and corporate forces. Their resistance resonates in their slogan: Birsa Munda Dakara Die, Ladhei Kari Banchi Hue, a spirited rallying cry inspired by the legacy of Birsa Munda, reminding them that to live
with dignity, one must always be prepared to resist injustice.

On April 10, the Khandualmali Permanent Security Committee organised a massive protest demonstration at the Lanjigarh Tehsil office, demanding an immediate halt to the repressive actions currently being taken against anti-mining protesters across the state. During this rally, the people chanted the following slogan among others: Ama Gaon Re Ama Sarkar, Bideshi Company Nahin Darkar (our government in our village; no need for foreign companies). They declared that they would prefer to sacrifice their lives rather than surrender their land. To them, Sijimali is not merely a piece of land—it is their mother, their identity, their emotion, and their very existence.

Environmental damage

The impacts of projects such as the one proposed in Sijimali extend far beyond the immediate issues of land acquisition or displacement. The depletion of forest land, mounting pressure on water resources, and disruptions to local ecosystems can alter agricultural practices, diminish access to forest produce, and impact the region’s biodiversity. For communities that rely entirely on these environments, adapting to such changes is no easy task. Moreover, the experience of these impacts is unevenly distributed. Women, in particular, are often more directly affected by ecological shifts, given their pivotal role in gathering water, firewood, and forest produce. Restrictions on movement, diminished access to resources, and mounting uncertainty can exacerbate their daily burdens in ways that are rarely accounted for in project planning or evaluation processes.

In situations like that of Sijimali, any meaningful path forward must begin with taking consent seriously. This will necessitate ensuring that clear and accessible information reaches communities, that they are afforded adequate time for deliberation, and that they possess the freedom to express their dissent without facing pressure from administrative or police actions.

This also demands a deep examination of how development itself is framed. When projects are viewed primarily through the lens of their economic benefits, questions regarding ecological sustainability and community life are often considered only after decisions have already been made and work has commenced.

The unfolding events in Sijimali make it clear that the real issue is not whether development should take place or not; rather, the central question is, on what terms should development proceed? In the wake of these events, a deeply troubling question arises: would the government have been able to take such measures against the tribals if these tribal communities were as powerful as the Rajputs of Rajasthan, the Jatt Sikhs of Punjab, or the Jats of Haryana, that is, communities that possess land ownership rights within their respective regions?

(The writers are PhD candidates at the Department of Political Science, University of Delhi)

Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.