For his four decades on Earth, Sodi Naresh followed a strict routine. He rarely left his village Tikalguriyam, traveling only two or three times a month to the nearest town of Jagargunda to buy basic kitchen supplies such as rice, salt, onions and oil. Deep in Sukma in southern Chhattisgarh, the 46-year-old spent his days in the fields and forests near his home, trying to keep his head down and his family of six unobtrusive in an area directly in the crosshairs of an armed conflict between Maoists and the government.
Entire generations have grown up here in the bloody war between the Jantana Sarkar regime – the Maoist parallel regime – and the Indian state, without basic amenities and with only one mission: to protect their loved ones from periodic violence.
Over the past year, Naresh’s habits have changed. He hopes to travel more, has applied for travel documents and a voter ID card, and dreams of upgrading his shack into a brick-and-mortar home. Now he is glued to his phone, scrolling through videos posted by local YouTubers chronicling the collapse of the Maoist movement in these forests.
He said: “I did not start using a mobile phone until early 2025, after the security forces installed a tower.” “It was a year after they regained control of our village and set up camp. The Maoists never allowed roads, police or even electricity here. We never felt the need for phones.”
“If we had to send a message, we would walk 30 kilometers to the nearest town, stay the night, and come back the next day. For us, the Maoists were our voice, our representatives, our only link to the outside world.”
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As the final hours of a decades-long insurgency unfold in the jungles of Bastar and the Union government’s March 31, 2026 deadline to end left-wing extremism approaches, tens of thousands of locals like Naresh stand on the cusp of a radical change in their lives.
Deep in this jungle, until recently the central headquarters of the Maoists’ guerrilla warfare, a team of security forces is on a final mission. Accompanied by surrendered senior Maoist commander Baba Rao, they hope to capture the last few Maoist fighters and persuade them to return. The team entered the forest last Friday and is expected to return Tuesday afternoon. With less than 48 hours remaining, the message is clear: bring back as many of them as possible – alive if they choose to surrender, dead if they resist.
Over the past year, the pace of the insurgency has declined significantly. Nineteen of the 21 members of the Maoist Central Committee were killed or surrendered. Their military commanders and mid-level commanders have been eliminated. According to the central forces, the rebels no longer control any village. Against this backdrop, Union Home Minister Amit Shah on Monday declared that “India is Naxalism-free” – fulfilling a promise repeatedly expressed by Prime Minister Narendra Modi over the past year.
But for residents like Naresh, the story is more complicated.
Since its birth in April 1980 — at the same time the Maoists were setting up their base in Bastar — Tikalguriyam has had little electricity, mobile phone network or road connectivity, a necessary isolation for the Maoists because it is located next to the village of Povarti, once a major base for the military wing of the Communist Party of China (Maoist).
Bhuvarti was home to senior Maoist leaders Madhvi Hidma (killed in a gun battle on 18 November 2025) and Parsi Deva (surrendered on 2 January 2026). Here the banned party carried out maximum recruitment. On January 30, 2024, security forces finally arrived at Tikalgorium and set up camp. It was not without cost, as the Al-Hadma area and about 400 rebels killed three paramilitary personnel. But the Tikalgorium camp set up that morning cleared the way for the troops to enter Povarti and deeper into the previously impregnable Red Pass.
“The control of Tikalgorium and Bhovarti was a turning point. It was a message to the Maoists that they could not protect their fortress. The villagers here never saw the real government,” a senior government official said.
Officially flagged mobile towers – about 5,300 have been installed over the past 12 years in the district – and road infrastructure as a ‘game changer’ that has tipped the balance against the Maoists
Last week, Naresh and his wife, Suri Sunny, applied for voter ID cards for the first time.
“They took our photos and details. They said we would soon get voter ID cards,” Naresh said. “The Maoists did not allow voting. No official dared to come here. This was Hidma and Parsi territory.”
His father, Sodi Hongma, 66, remembers a different time. “In the 1970s, before the Maoists came, I remember politicians visiting the village carrying flags,” he recalls. “I was not old enough to vote, but old people would go to nearby towns. Officials would come here and ask us to vote. By the time I came of age, the Maoists had taken power. Voting stopped. There were only red flags and posters that the Maoists raised later. If I vote now, it will be the first time in my life.”
Naresh said the Maoists settled disputes, informed them about the world and ensured that they were not disturbed by any government official. “When we were living under their rule, we didn’t feel like we were deprived of anything,” he said. “They came and gave orders and settled disputes. For us, they were the government and the police. It was completely normal for me until the troops came here and I saw the real world.”
But there is one practice that always raises alarm: the mandatory donation of food every month. “They would come and ask each house to donate about one kilogram of rice and other food items. We would walk for a day to the town weekly and return the next day only after getting rice, salt, onions and chili pepper. And then each house had to donate some of it. It was unfair.”
The Border Roads Organization is now constructing a road to this village from the Jagargunda Expressway which will extend to Bovarthi, replacing the diversionary tracks built by the forces.
“If Maoism really ends, I want a concrete house with a toilet,” Naresh said. “I want a tube well, and some land to farm freely. Earlier, the Maoists decided how much space I could farm near my house. Now I want to farm more, earn more – and maybe buy the kind of clothes I see people wearing on YouTube.”
Residents say the familiar sight of armed cadres demanding food or holding village meetings has given way to uniformed individuals running medical camps and distributing medicines. The meetings are still ongoing, but their aim is to encourage children to attend schools run by the forces or to take medicine. The village heard about the corruption practiced by the government, but did not witness any failure.
“We were just getting…maybe it would be better under the real government,” said Naresh’s wife, Sunny, who is still learning to use a mobile phone.
But even as the people of Tikalgorium prepare to enter a new world, they admit they are worried about their culture and the impact of modernity. “The Maoist Chetna Natya Manch band used to perform once or twice a month. The entire village would come together to sing and dance. Through those songs, we talked about our heroes, our land and our lives around it. Those nights felt like festivals,” Naresh said.
“I’m going to miss it.”
