There was a time when the idea of a Naxal-free India felt aspirational at best. On the ground, it seemed improbable. Roads were mined, forests were inaccessible, and entire districts lived under the shadow of what was once known as the Red Corridor.
That reality has shifted decisively.
Travelling through Bastar, Bijapur and the once-impenetrable Abujhmad, I saw firsthand how a combination of political direction, sustained security operations and local engagement has pushed Naxalism to the margins.
Officials I spoke to pointed to a clear turning point: when Home Minister Amit Shah set a March 31, 2026 deadline to eliminate Naxalism. While such deadlines are often symbolic, this one had operational consequences.
Coordination tightened. Reviews became more frequent. From Delhi to Raipur, the message was consistent: accelerate, align and execute.
An intelligence officer described it as a shift “from containment to conclusion”. On the ground, that shift is visible.
INSIDE THE FORESTS: WHERE THE TIDE TURNED
Reaching the hills of Korrai Gutta—once described locally as a Naxal “capital”—required a helicopter ride followed by a motorcycle journey through forest tracks still carrying the threat of IEDs.
What stood out was not just the terrain, but what had been dismantled.
Caves that once housed weapon-making units and explosive dumps had been cleared. In one extended push, security forces neutralised over 30 Maoists and destroyed hundreds of bunkers under Operation Black Forest.
This was part of a broader offensive—operations across Dharmavaram, Tekalgudiyam and Korrai Gutta—that shifted momentum. Officers described a clear before-and-after moment: once these strongholds fell, the insurgency lost both morale and mobility.
THE COLLAPSE OF THE RED CORRIDOR
For decades, the Red Corridor stretched across large parts of central and eastern India—an arc insurgents once envisioned from Tirupati to Pashupati in Nepal.
Today, that geography has shrunk sharply.
States like Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, Odisha, Maharashtra, Telangana, Andhra Pradesh and Madhya Pradesh—once heavily affected—have seen a steep decline in activity.
At its peak, over 6,500 Naxalites operated across this belt. Officials now describe their presence as negligible, with senior leadership either neutralised or having surrendered.
Abujhmad, long considered a stronghold for over 35 years, has been brought under security control within just 35–40 months through sustained operations.
Until recently, the Red Corridor spanned nearly 1,200 km, with Maoists dominating around 94,000 sq km of forest. Since then, forces have dismantled over 300 camps and seized thousands of weapons, ammunition and explosive stockpiles.
NUMBERS REINFORCE THE SHIFT
The data underscores the change.
Violent incidents have declined by over 50 per cent in the past decade. Fatalities among security personnel have fallen by nearly three-quarters, while civilian deaths are down by around 70 per cent.
What was once a vast insurgent network has now been reduced to scattered remnants.
TECHNOLOGY, TACTICS AND TERRAIN
This campaign was not just about numbers—it was about changing how operations were conducted.
Forward Operating Bases (FOBs) have been set up deeper inside forests, allowing forces to hold territory rather than briefly enter and exit. Drones have expanded surveillance, while armoured vehicles have enabled safer movement in high-risk zones.
Human intelligence networks have also grown, often drawing from local communities. In regions like Bastar and Gadchiroli, coordination between central forces and state police has proved critical.
The result is a steady penetration into areas once considered inaccessible.
WHAT THE GROUND NOW LOOKS LIKE
In Gundam village in Bijapur, once a Naxal stronghold, I saw something that would have been unthinkable a few years ago—a functioning ecosystem around a security base.
There was a school. A small hospital. A ration outlet.
Villagers told me these were the first such facilities they had seen in their lifetimes. One resident pointed to a nearby village once associated with a feared Naxal commander and said simply, “Now, we can go there.”
The change is not uniform, but it is visible.
VOICES FROM THE OTHER SIDE
The most telling shift came in conversations with former Naxal cadres in Abujhmad.
Their journeys into the movement varied—some joined as teenagers, others were drawn in by coercion or circumstance—but their reasons for leaving were similar.
“There is pressure everywhere now. We wanted to live,” one former operative told me.
Another, once a trained fighter, spoke quietly: “A man does not want to die. He wants a few days of peace.”
Some described rigid hierarchies, isolation and coercive practices within the ranks. Others spoke of disillusionment as operations intensified and safe zones shrank.
A former intelligence operative, now assisting local police, summed it up: “Earlier, we were hiding. Now, we are helping.”
THE SOCIAL PIVOT: FROM FEAR TO PARTICIPATION
Security gains alone do not explain the shift.
Across Bastar, there are visible efforts to rebuild trust. Mobile connectivity has reached remote regions. Schools have reopened. Infrastructure and irrigation projects are underway.
Local recruitment initiatives—such as the induction of ‘Bastar Fighters’—have created employment while strengthening community participation. Events like the Bastar Olympics have drawn large crowds, signalling a shift in public mood.
In villages that once emptied by dusk, there is now visible activity—children in school, markets reopening and roads being used without fear.
A LONG WAR AND ITS QUIET ENDGAME
It would be premature to declare complete victory. Residual pockets remain, and the structural issues that once fuelled the insurgency—poverty, displacement and governance gaps—still require attention.
But the broader shift is unmistakable.
The decline of Naxalism is not the result of a single operation, but the cumulative effect of political direction, coordinated intelligence, sustained field operations, technological adaptation and parallel development efforts.
Travelling through areas once described as ‘abujh’—unfathomable—I found them, for the first time, becoming legible.
Where there were once guns, there are now classrooms. Where movement is restricted, there is cautious mobility. And where fear once defined daily life, a sense of normalcy is slowly returning.
– Ends
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