Naxalism, dense forests, underdeveloped tribal communities, alcohol, poverty—this is the image that often comes to mind when one hears the name Chhattisgarh. Growing up in a village in West Bengal myself, I believed I had a fair understanding of rural and remote life. But those perceptions were completely upended when I was placed in Sukma, one of India’s most conflict-ridden districts in Chhattisgarh, and indeed, in all of India.
“Don’t be nervous or mumble. Speak the truth and answer confidently if any stranger or CRPF officer asks you anything” – Wrivu Shanyal, co-worker
My coworker advised before I set out on one of my early field visits to Lendra—an untouched and unknown village, hidden deep in the forest, nearly 70 kilometers from our office in the district headquarters. Another coworker warned me to be careful, saying the path through the forest is tricky. There’s no proper road, just trails with many branches. Under no circumstances should a wrong turn be taken. It could lead you so deep into the forest that finding your way back would be almost impossible for a newcomer. GoogleMaps is still a futuristic idea here.
“The Path I Walk Once, I Never Forget”
Listening to all this, my curiosity grew stronger. All my scary thoughts vanished when Hidma said, “the path I walk once, I never forget.” Hidma is a local youth who has been working with our organization, Shiksharth, for the last four years. He grew up facing the challenges and hardships of one of the most remote and conflicted regions in India. He visited the school just a month ago, and today, he was going to be my guide.
The journey started at 9:30am on a Hero Splendor bike, which can run at a maximum speed of 9kmph and sometimes crosses 100 kmph on downslopes. You will feel the speed is very less because of the endless stretches of newly constructed roads.
During a movie, when a dramatic scene comes on, we forget to eat the popcorn. Thus, in the excitement of visiting the mysterious village, I forgot to take precautions against the sun. When my eyes fell on my wrist, the changing shade of the exposed skin reminded me of the sun. I quickly stopped the bike and covered myself.
A selfie with Hidma
Ride… ride… ride… watch endless stretches of land unfold… overtake thousands of gigantic trucks… cross the winding branches of rivers… enter into the thick, concentrated forest… pass CRPF camps and checkpoints every 10kilometers… revel in the untouched beauty of nature… see tribal homes scattered in isolation, tucked deep within the forest or nestled among paddy fields… pass by buses that vanish into clouds of dust, and keep going… and repeat.
My itch for photography kicked in when Hidma said that after 7 to 8 kilometre we have to turn right and leave the highway and will enter the forest. I handed over the bike to Hidma saying your turn to drive; my camera needs some action. I leaned back and started capturing moments from the speeding bike’s pillion seat.
Tribal houses beside the road
Roadside paddy cultivation
As we turned off the highway, it felt like stepping into another world—an enchanting village nestled between fields and trees, its charm untouched by the chaos of modern life. The air grew quieter, and the rhythm of our journey shifted, signaling the adventure ahead.
Suddenly, I realised we were nearing the forest trail. The flat, well-paved surface of the highway transitioned into a rough, unpaved path made of stones, each bump a reminder that we were leaving the familiar behind. Eventually, the stone road came to an end, giving way to the forest trail, which seemed to welcome us into a magical world hidden deep within the woods.
I noticed wildflowers blooming beside the path and wanted to urge to stop and capture their beauty. But before I could ask Hidma to halt the bike, an odd thought struck me, “are there any wild animals here?” Hidma’s response was calm. “Yes, there are deer and pigs. But pigs here can be as dangerous as leopards for newcomers. If you don’t know the right technique to handle, they can take your life.”
Suddenly, I remembered a hand knife in the bike’s bucket—something I had seen earlier, probably left by the previous rider. With one hand holding the phone camera, I fumbled through the bucket with the other, my focus divided between the trail and the search. The bike crawled at less than 10kph, and we often had to stop due to the rough, uneven path. Finally, my fingers wrapped around the knife, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“If a wild pig attacks, this won’t be of much help. They’re strong, their skin is thick, and they always move in groups. Still, it’s useful if you’re alone in the forest. But pigs only attack humans if they feel threatened. If you see pigs crossing your path, don’t run. Just stop where you are and wait until they’ve crossed. Running will provoke them to attack. Villagers here know this technique—it’s the only way to stay safe.”
Looking at the knife, Hidma said,
As we kept talking, we came out of the deep forest and saw a couple walking toward us. They were carrying their baby and some bags of goods. Seeing them made me think about how hard their life must be. The path where I felt scared and needed a knife; their only way to connect with the outside world. To get groceries, clothes, or medicine, they had to walk over 7kilometers on a muddy road through the forest.
With these thoughts in mind, we had already crossed the forest, and signs of the known world began to appear one by one. Groups of cows, goats, and other domestic animals appeared. Rice fields stretched beside the path, and the red soil slowly changed to white.
In the distance, the primary school could be seen peeking above the village, just beyond the forest. From that far, faint screeching sounds of schoolchildren reached us, growing louder and clearer as we got closer to the school. One by one, the mud houses of the village began to emerge from behind the forest. This was the curious school in a village that seemed to wander away from the modern world! I found myself lost in thoughts about diversity and cultural differences, until my reflection was interrupted as Hidma hit the brakes in front of the school.
Inside The School
But in the school, I saw something for which I was not prepared at all. But before coming to that part let me tell my first impressing at the school. As I got off the bike, and saw Ganga teaching a class in the school. He glanced at me from the classroom and gave a small, welcoming smile. Ganga is a community educator here at Shiksharth. A community educator is a local youth from the tribal community who has completed at least 12th grade and is hired by our organisation to teach and support their own community. Every day, they come to the primary schools to educate the children.
In every village where Shiksharth operates, there is a community educator. One of my roles is to support these educators in their work. I stepped into the school and received a warm welcome from the children. ‘Good morning, sir!’ they greeted with bright eyes, full of curiosity.
After a brief round of introductions I opened my laptop to show something as a warm-up before starting my workshop. Their eyes widened with eagerness as they stared at the screen. That’s when I realised my mistake—there was no signal to access the internet.
Undeterred, I conducted a workshop and led some engaging activities with these wonder-filled and curious young minds, living in one of the most remote places.
In picture you can see Ganga is standing and helping me in the class room.
“What can I say, sir? He doesn’t even come to school every day—maybe three or four days a month—and still marks fake attendance. Honestly, it’s better if he doesn’t come at all. Whenever he does, he comes drunk and just sleeps in the school. It’s a big problem for me, and it sets a terrible example for the children. The villagers have complained and informed the administration several times, but nothing has been done. He doesn’t even answer the BRC officer’s calls.” – Ganga
I saw something I wasn’t ready for when I entered another classroom out of curiosity. The government teacher was lying drunk on the floor, snoring loudly.
Our conversation was interrupted when the school cook invited us to have the mid-day meal for lunch. I still had work to finish, so lunch was important. But more than that, I was excited about the chance to taste authentic tribal food.
After lunch, I had another task; to conduct a survey for installing solar streetlights in the village. With no electricity, the village becomes pitch dark at night, making life difficult. Ganga guided me around as I took notes on how many lights were needed, where they should be placed, and all the necessary details.
After we finished our visit to the village, we returned to the school and saw the children gathering to say goodbye. Just before leaving. I asked Ganga if he needed anything, how I could help him do his job better, or if he was facing any problems. He said,
“Everything is alright, but the only challenge is the government teacher.”
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