Fifteen years ago, on this day in 2006, 14 Adivasi villagers were killed in police firing at Kalinganagar in Odisha, when they resisted theforcible acquisition of their land by TISCO to set up a mega steel plant. To break the people’s resistance, the Odisha police went on a rampage and fired indiscriminately in order to chase away the protestors. Many died on the spot, while several were grievously injured. The police carried away the dead bodies and the injured, and later when they returned the dead bodies to the families, it was discovered that five of them had their palms chopped off.

Kalinganagar is a classic example of the use of brute force by the government to kill, maim and mutilate its own citizens, in order to usurp their land and livelihood-resources, and offer the said land as gifts them to the corporates.

Today, to commemorate the martyrdom of the 14 Adivasi villagers, including three women, massacred by the government-corporate nexus at the altar of ‘development’ in Kalinganagar, GroundXero publishes excerpts from the book Resisting Dispossession: The Odisha Story, written by Ranjana Padhi and Nigamanand Sadangi. The book, published in 2020, documents the struggles, based on testimonials of the people who lost their land, livelihood, culture, dignity as well as the lives of their relatives, friends and members of their community to the various government-imposed ‘development’ projects.

We are thankful to the authors and the publisher, Palgrave Macmillan, for granting us permission to reproduce the excerpts from the chapter on Kalinganagar in the book for our readers.

The Taste of Steel

 

It took longer to get into the forest. It seemed that the trees, feeling that they were losing the argument with human beings, walked deeper into the forest. — Ben Okri, 1991.

 

It was a cold and wintry day. A funeral procession had begun to slowly make its way from Champakoila. White shrouds covered the bodies on string cots and marigolds of orange and yellow were put on them along with hibiscuses. The flowers and shrouds together covered their bullet wounds. Grief-ridden hearts raised fists and shouted aloud: Kalinganagar ke shaheedon ko lal salaam! And other voices responded Lal salaam, lal salaam!

 

As they were marching to Ambagadia carrying their dead, it looked like as if a collective catharsis had descended upon them. When they reached the funeral site, the 12 bullet-ridden bodies were gently placed on the ground one after another. Women smeared oil and turmeric paste on them. Some of them had stumps of chopped off palms raised to the sky. The atmosphere was all sombre. Everyone was crying – men and women, old and young alike [Samrajyabadi Birodhi Manch, 2007]. The hills, the trees and the skies watched mutely, as if barely able to absorb the rhythmic sobbing of people that had converged there.

 

As the funeral pyres were lit, the flames rose up and embers flew to the sky. With them the grief and tears gave way to a steely resolve. It was a moment of reckoning for those whose land was being coveted for steel production.

 

The telecast sent shock waves all across the nation and beyond. Many stories did rounds as people came to terms with the loss of lives and the sheer bestiality of an elected government.

 

Jayant Mahapatra evocatively penned down:

 

It is my ardent wish

At times

To walk down the road

Where,

One after another twelve pyres were lit

That day.

And the earth,

Before surrendering,

Became speechless for a few moments,

Witnessing the deafness of the pyre.

(Mahapatra 2015)

 

A memorial built on this spot is named Birbhumi. There are stone pillars put up in the name of each martyr:

 

Mukuta Dei Bankira

Aati Jamuda

Ramchandra Jamuda

Deogi Tiria

Sudam Barla

Bhagaban Soi

Landu Jarika

Gobind Lagori

Janga Jarika

Ramlal Mundoya

Ram Gagarai

Bona Badara

 

More pillars have got added since 2006 as people fell prey to the tyranny of the company and the government each year. Shyamo Gagarai, Kisan Buriuli and Bir Singh Gop of Chandia succumbed to their injuries sustained during the firing and succumbed in the following months. Amin Banara was gunned down on 1 May 2008. Laxman Jamuda fell to police bullets in May 2010. Dabar Kalundia died ill and heart broken in January 2014.

 

The steel rush

The Ho speaking adivasis of Kalinganagar hail from the present day Jharkhand region that shares its border with Odisha. In the aftermath of the Birsa Munda rebellion, they came to this area. The Raja of Sukinda gave them land titles and was keen they make the land cultivable. Many of them were given copper plates as land grants or titles. Over a period of a century of backbreaking labour, it became home. The present day rulers wanted the same land to make steel and therefore sought to dispense them.

 

In 1990, Biju Patnaik came to power selling the dream of a second steel plant in Odisha after Rourkela. He persuaded the NRI industrialist Swaraj Paul to set up a steel plant here. To mark the occasion, each of them planted one Kadamba sapling. However, Swaraj Paul’s industry, for reasons not known to people, did not take off. Meanwhile, local people say one sapling grew into a big tree and another one died. The steel hub in the making was named Kalinganagar.  The name proudly evokes the memory of ancient Odisha when people of this land were supposed to be rich and prosperous because of maritime trade and commerce. The area seemed to be an ideal choice for setting up steel production units for investors. The NH 200 connects Paradip Port to this iron and manganese rich belt of Jajpur (particularly Sukinda) and Keonjhar districts with the Brahmani flowing serenely nearby.

 

By 1992-94, the Industrial Infrastructure Development Corporation of Odisha (IIDCO) began acquiring land in the area to develop infrastructure for companies. Such was the euphoria created around it that most people believed in the promised El dorado and looked forward to the prosperity that industrialization would usher in. Middlemen and government lackeys did the rounds in building up dream houses and jobs in exchange of lands. Local people, mostly adivasis, agreed to leave their land for a meagre price with no resistance, hoping for jobs and improvement in their lives, once factories were set up. The saga of adivasis being thrown again and again after having made the land habitable has in this way become the predicament of modern times too.

 

The people got the first glimpse of the government’s brute power in 1997 when they were forcibly displaced from their villages to make way for the Nilachal Nigam Industries Ltd (NNIL) steel plant. It so happened that a large contingent of police arrived in the middle of one night and asked villagers to immediately leave for the newly set up rehabilitation centre. People resisted and wanted written assurances of jobs before leaving but in vain. They left with resentment and anxieties aplenty. This incident marked the beginning of coercive displacement and resistance in Kalinganagar.

 

In Jajpur district, the betrayal happened at various levels and in different points of time. Chakradhar Haibru, a leading figure of the Bisthapan Birodhi Jan Manch (BBJM), said:

We did not have record of right (ROR) over most of our land that were shown as `anabadi’ land in the revenue records. The compensation was meaningless without giving us ROR over the land. I remember our raising this issue in one of the earliest meetings with the new ADM of Kalinganagar. In fact, he had expressed surprise that there had been no land settlement in the area since 1928. He promised to look into the matter. Nothing happened.

 

Rabindra Jarika once explained:

Around 1992, local leaders and middlemen were successful in making people of Gobarghati and Chandia agree to leave and accept compensation money. They argued that we adivasis knew nothing and said that industry was good for us and that if we did not agree the government would in any case acquire our land and dismantle our settlement using bulldozers. That we would not only lose land but also get nothing in return. This subtle threat worked. People then thought that it was prudent to get something rather than nothing at all. They were paid at the rate of Rs 35,000 per acre. It created fissures among people. After acquisition, some land was levelled and thus rendered uncultivable while some was left as it were. Whose land became unfit for cultivation began to live by the compensation money and went to nearby towns to do wage work. But whose land was still cultivable they continued to grow crops on it. Some years went by like this. The money they had received got exhausted. Yet, the promised employment was nowhere near sight.

 

Thus, doubts and mistrust had begun to creep in. They were enraged when they learnt that IIDCO was selling the same land to companies at much higher rates. Once the illusion of the sarkar as maibaap (protector) began to crumble into pieces, the shock and anger they felt turned into collective resentment, and it soon manifested in organized resistance.

 

In 2004, Maharashtra Seamless Company began bhoomi pooja near Gadpur-Khurunti without even consulting the legitimate owners of the land. People  got suspicious since they had been in this land for hundreds of years. How could the company begin work without talking to even those who had pattas? They gathered at the spot and did not allow the bhoomi  pooja to take place. When the police and the administration intervened on behalf of the company, the people still remained steadfast. As a result, the ADM of Kalinganagar had to rush to the spot.

 

The ADM did not engage in any discussion. He not only ordered lathi charge but also came charging at the protestors pushing down some of the women to the ground. The police began chasing and beating up the people. Women were kicked around and pulled by their hair. People resorted to stone pelting in self-defence. They set the ADM’s vehicle on fire and thrashed him badly. When the inspector-in-charge of Kalinganagar PS came to his rescue, he too was beaten up [PUCL report, 2006]. The situation went out of control and the police had no option but to retreat.

 

Fearing retaliation, most men hid in the surrounding hillocks. As expected, the police returned the same day with reinforcements. This time the women and children bore the brunt of the brutal violence. Some 25 women who were arrested from Chandia village remained in jail for a full one month. There was no one left in the village to take care of the sick and infants and elderly. As a result, two infants died; an old man who had sustained grievous injuries also died a few days later.

 

This is the collateral damage wreaked in the war of development.

 

Meanwhile, TISCO and others also acquired land from IDCO. Despite the repression, people were persistent in their demand for fair compensation. By now they had understood that it was futile to expect from the companies or the government that they would protect their interests. The incident had taught them they had to now fight their own battles.

 

Thus they formed the Bisthapan Birodhi Jan Mancha (BBJM). It had several adivasi leaders   representing the affected villages. The Manch began to discuss the high rates at which the land was being sold to the companies. It entered into negotiations with the administration as an organized representative body of the many villages. One of their first demands was a second round of compensation for those whose lands had already been acquired by IDCO. Towards the end of 2005, when the word spread that TISCO was going to begin its construction work, the Manch decided to call for an immediate meeting. A delegation was formed to speak to the Collector when they come for the levelling of land the next day.

 

2 January 2006

On this second day of the New Year in 2006, TISCO brought bulldozers to level the fields.  People of Champakoila sent messages to other villages that the company has come with bulldozers. As soon as the nearby villages received the message, they left whatever work they were doing and rushed to the spot, carrying their bows, arrows, sickles and other traditional weapons. Women and children also ran all the way. When over 400 people from 15 villages reached the spot, they were bewildered to see the massive police deployment and presence of high profile government officials. They remained on an adjacent field to the site, close to Champakoila village.

 

Daylight robbery of the people needs massive deployment of police. The entire area was cordoned off with ropes.  Armed policemen were placed all around it. The corporations are always assured support in this grand looting; the Superintendent of Police and the District Magistrate stood in protection of the company and its officials. There were twelve platoons of police with them.

 

The people understood that the battle lines were clearly drawn and the administration had come prepared for an all out combat. Otherwise, on whose behalf do an elected government and its administrative machinery work? Why does the government need to send an SP and a DM to stand guard in protection of a private company and its officials?

 

The platoons started taking positions, equally divided on all three sides of the fence that was erected using long ropes; one platoon was kept aside meant to give protection to the top brass present if the situation went out of control [PUCL Report 2006]. Perhaps, the thrashing of the ADM seven months back was haunting them!

 

The engines of bulldozers and earth movers were making whirring sound. The huge metallic monster began moving around to level the uneven field under its colossal wheels. As the villagers became more and more animated, the commotion increased. The delegation of four that was supposed to meet the Collector stepped forward. But the police refused to budge. People pressed against the rope cordon. Manhandling by the police further infuriated them.

 

Just as both sides were busy jostling with each other, an explosion took place. No one was sure what caused the explosion. Some say it was a land mine; others testify having seen the police pull a rope that set off the explosion. Whatever it was, all hell broke loose after that. Police started firing upon fleeing people. Stun and tear gas shells as well as rubber pellets were showering on them from all sides. As people were running helter-skelter to save their lives, some policemen tripped and fell. They turned back to get at them. An unarmed havildar named Gopabandhu Mohanty was mauled up by the people. The police went on rampage and continued firing with no holds barred. People stumbled and fell on the ground as they were fired on the back. They were given a chase as firing continued.

 

The area cleared up. There was smoke and dust. At the end of it, the battlefield was strewn around with a mass of people; some lay dead, some injured. It was all dead quiet.

 

Villagers ran screaming all the way:

Aamo ku maaribaaku aasichonti re; aamoku maaribaaku aasichonti!!

Tata aamoku maaribaaku aasichi; Tata aamoku  maaribaaku aasichi!!

[They have come to kill us; they have come to kill us!!

Tata has come to kill us, Tata has come to kill us!!]

 

Sini Soi, whose son Bhagaban Soi also fell to the bullets that day, recalls:

People came running from that side yelling that our people have died. The boy next door ran up to me and said he saw Bhagaban falling down but he could not help him as the firing was going on. My children clung to me and cried out ‘our brother is dead, our brother is dead’. My head began reeling and my mouth went dry. There were no tears in my eyes. Can a mother cry when her children are clinging to her seeking consolation? I started walking in that direction. I wanted to see him. But the police had removed the bodies. I watched from a distance. A vehicle was taking them all. My son was still alive at that time. One of the girls was alive too. Their hands were moving. People asked me to go back since we might be killed.

 

As the police went after the people and shot randomly, many more were hit. Hearing shouts, Deogi Tiria, a woman from Champakoila village, stepped out of her hut to see what was happening. She too fell prey to a random bullet and died. People calmed down each other. Some were given traditional medicines at village squares. Many had sustained grievous injuries. The collective trauma and shock was overpowering.

 

Who can they turn to when their own administration was on the offensive? People feared taking the injured to the nearest Danagadi Hospital. So they carried them on shoulders, bicycles and string cots. They brought them to the main road through the thickets to reach hospitals in Cuttack or Jajpur.

 

The site got cordoned off with only the police and some bodies, dead or injured. The police carried the dead bodies and the injured to Jajpur. Later when they returned the dead bodies to the families, it was discovered that five of them had their palms chopped off. Their names were Ram Gagrai, Ati Jamuda, Landu Jarika, Bhagaban Soi and Mukta Bankira. Soon the word spread about physical torture and mutilation of genitals.

 

Sini Soi recalled:

They must have tortured and killed them on the way. We would not have got the bodies had we not blocked the road and refused to move till the bodies were returned. But still they did not return the palms. They gave us six bodies, including my son’s. There was a garland on him. What will garlands do?  My son’s palm was severed from his body. Later they asked us to come to claim the palms. I fainted on the way.

 

The doctors claimed that the palms were chopped off for fingerprints to identify the bodies. However, it could have happened only under police instruction. As the news covered the national media, the doctors responsible were suspended. The State Human Rights Commission ordered the hospital to return the palms. The families insisted that a DNA test be done to make sure that the palms belonged to their kin. But the administration has not conducted any DNA test even after passing of 13 years. The palms are still lying preserved in a box kept at a local youth club in Ambagadia near Birbhumi.

 

The spot on the Daitari-Paradeep National Highway where this protest first began saw a long resistance called by the Bisthapan Birodhi Jan Manch. A blockade was organized that stopped heavy vehicles carrying goods and raw material between Paradeep and Sukinda. This nonstop sit-in lasted for more than a year. The united political action with solidarity pouring in from across the country was inspiring. Of course, the trucks and vehicles found a way out and silently plied their way on the road from Duburi to Danagadi with the same goods and raw material.

 

• The Indian print edition of the book is available with Aakar Books, New Delhi.

 

• To read a review of the book by Alok Laddha click on the link below Resisting Dispossession: The Odisha Story