Birsa Munda at 150: Land Rights and Adivasi Resistance Through the Years
It has been said that the best way to know a person is to go by the company they keep. The reasons for the persecution and death of the Jesuit activist-priest, Stan Swamy, can be better understood in relation to his comradeship with Sister Valsa John Malamel, a Malayali nun murdered some 14 years ago in the village of Pachhwara in Pakur district of Jharkhand, about 250 kilometres north-east of Ranchi.
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“They buried us. They did not know we were the seeds.” It is with these words from a Mexican proverb that Ranchi-based artist-activists Biju Toppo and Meghnath begin their documentary on Sister Valsa. The film, Hum Aapke SaathHain Saathi (Taking Side), in Santhali, Hindi and English, gives the viewer an idea of the tough conditions in which Adivasis live all over the country and the visionary manner in which their foremost leaders led or lead them. In the film, we hear Father Stan Swamy recalling the example of Sister Valsa and telling us, by implication, that when we are sure of our beliefs, we need not fear anyone.
On November 15, 2011, 53-year-old Sister Valsa was hacked to death by a group of armed men in the tribal village she had made her home. Working with the indigenous people for many years, she had become a force to reckon with. A devoted group of followers was at her beck and call at any hour of the day or night. Politicians, policemen, government officials, and the local mining mafia were wary of her. They found it difficult to pursue their activities since the formidable nun loomed larger than life on the horizon. Simon Marandi, a Jharkhand legislator, went on record saying: “Sister Valsa was very strong. I could not get into the area. She was running a parallel government.”
Sister Valsa’s story
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Marandi’s complaint related to Sister Valsa’s success in organising the villagers against the local Panem Coal Mines Ltd, jointly promoted by the Punjab State Electricity Board and the EMTA Group of companies of Kolkata. The anti-mining movement she had initiated in 2002 led to an agreement with Panem in 2006 that allowed the company to mine in the area in return for several benefits to the villagers. Many inhabitants of Pachwara village, where Sister Valsa was killed, said that at the time of the murder she was critical of the company and was preparing for a fresh round of confrontation for what she saw as its failure to abide by the terms of the agreement. The company denied any involvement in the murder, but popular suspicions persist to the contrary.
Also Read | Forest rights activists fear mass evictions as Supreme Court set to hear crucial FRA case on April 2
In early 2012, The Wall Street Journal carried a serialised investigation into the life, work, and murder of Sister Valsa. It took up her story because, to quote its editors, “Her life, and events leading up to her death, appeared to us to touch on many of the big issues that India is facing as it develops rapidly—industrialization, preservation of the traditional ways of life, the Maoist rebellion that is present across several central Indian States, and the relationship between companies and indigenous tribes.” Reading between the lines, one will perhaps discover a thinly-veiled indictment of New Delhi’s methods of persecution of outspoken critics.
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Sister Valsa John Malamel, a Malayali nun, was murdered some 14 years ago in the village of Pachhwara in Pakur district of Jharkhand.
| Photo Credit:
By Special Arrangement
The so-called “rapid development” of India may have benefitted a certain class of Indians living in the big cities and enjoying a life of leisure, but the fruits of the “economic growth and prosperity” that Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his associates are given to proclaiming at the drop of a hat, have not only bypassed large parts of rural India and the lower classes in the towns and cities but have also been possible because of the ceaseless exploitation of Adivasis, Dalits, and other disadvantaged communities. Sister Valsa signed her own death warrant when she, making common cause with the tribals, plunged into the strife.
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Almost 14 years after her murder, expressions like “crusader” or “friend of the poor and the oppressed” are still being showered on her by many. However, with the passage of time, following the inevitable laws governing public memory, the number of people using such expressions to describe her is likely to become less and less. The court cases against the accused may ultimately crumble for “want of evidence”—that hateful piece of legalese which has come to the rescue of countless criminals. Remember how easily Shankar Guha Niyogi’s killers whistled their way out of different law courts in the country, from Raipur to New Delhi.
The Nagri violence
However, at the end of the day, resistance to oppression can never be snuffed out. Whether it is the State or big capital, or the wayward sections of the judiciary and the media, the oppressor will always be opposed. This is what the Mexican proverb quoted in the documentary reminds us of.
This year marks the 150th birth anniversary and the 125th death anniversary this year of the martyred tribal hero, Bhagwan Birsa Munda (1875-1900). Celebrations are on in Jharkhand, Odisha, West Bengal, and other parts of the country. This is an appropriate time to dwell on the abysmal conditions in which Birsa’s children are forced to live and die. Here the Nagri incident, like the one in Pachwara that claimed Sister Valsa’s life, is an eye-opener.
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Nagri village, about 20 kilometres from the Jharkhand capital of Ranchi, was in the eye of a storm for several months in 2012. Without consulting the inhabitants of the village, the government of Jharkhand acquired 227 acres of tribal land to construct a central law university, an Indian Institute of Management, and several institutes of information technology. The villagers of Nagri claimed that the land was agricultural, had been so for generations and, so, the government should look elsewhere for the proposed educational hub.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi pays tribute to freedom fighter Birsa Munda on his birth anniversary, which is celebrated as Janjatiya Gaurav Divas, at Birsa Munda Museum, in Khunti, Jharkhand, on November 15, 2024.
| Photo Credit:
ANI
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Ranchi city turned into a battleground between policemen and protesting villagers under the leadership of the popular tribal leader, Dayamani Barla. Adivasi children and women carrying placards that read “Nagri raiyoto ki jameen wapas karo” (Land belonging to Nagri farmers must be returned) were seen all over the city.
Initially, the government used force to put down the resistance. Tribal lives were lost and many of the protesters were injured. Later, Arjun Munda’s BJP regime tried other means, like mixing discussions with threats, to take the wind out of the sails of the defiant villagers. Nagri residents took to protesting outside the Chief Minister’s house. Black flags and loud slogans at key points in Ranchi became the order of the day, indicating that displacement of Adivasis in the name of “development” or “progress” would not be tolerated.
Arun Pradhan, a land stir activist, went on record saying that the whole purpose of separating the tribal districts of south Bihar to form the State of Jharkhand, avowedly to serve the interests of Adivasis, was defeated by the government’s illegal land acquisition moves and other related measures. Pradhan said, “The basic purpose of having a separate Jharkhand has been defeated. It was created to preserve the rights of the tribal to jal (water), jungle (forest) and jameen (land). But the government is hell-bent upon snatching away tribal land.”
Still defiant
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This is the scenario not just in Jharkhand but all over India, wherever they are pockets of Adivasi land. Adivasis, the original inhabitants of the land, are denied rights to their land, livelihood, traditional lifestyles, and to an identity that is quite different from that of the diku (the outsider). Everywhere they are displaced and marginalised. But the good news is that everywhere they are defying the arson and anarchy to which they are being subjected.
Tribal people protest against the arrest of social activist Dayamani Barla and the Nagri land acquisition in Ranchi on December 15, 2012.
| Photo Credit:
MANOB CHOWDHURY
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Almost all the major steel plants in India are located in what was once tribal land. These factories attracted people from all parts of the country who soon began to encroach upon the homes, hills, fields and jungles of the Adivasis. Be it in Jamshedpur, Rourkela, Bhilai or Bokaro, all the “steel cities” today are peopled with outsiders who have done well for themselves while the original owners of the land have been reduced to dire poverty.
The anger of the Adivasis at the displacement is encoded in songs sung at their chief festival, Tusu. One song I have heard in Jamshedpur (or Tatanagar) goes, “Torey dekley aamaar gaa joley, tui asli keney Tatanagarey, kay dilo ray jhaal bora Tusu Porobay” (My body burns with rage at the sight of you, why did you have to come to Tatanagar). Here the singer is expressing anger at the excesses of the capitalists and their accomplices, outsiders all, against her and generations of her people. But bereft of power as she is, her anger cannot be translated into action.
Also Read | Chhattisgarh’s new BJP government restarts controversial coal mining in Adivasi areas
Another line from the same Tusu song moves away from the theme of usurpation of land and exploitation of natural resources to the abuse of the daughters of the tribal people. “Key dilo rey laal sari, oiSakchir burha Punjabi” speaks of the sexploitation of the young Adivasi woman who is rewarded with a red sari for agreeing to or being forced to agree to go to bed with the old Punjabi (read, the outsider) from Sakchi, the Adivasi settlement where Jamshedpur was founded more than a hundred years ago
In 1977, Mahasweta Devi wrote the Sahitya Akademi Award-winning book, Aranyer Adhikar (Rights of the Forest). The book is a stirring reconstruction of the brief life of Birsa Munda and the turbulent times in which he lived. Statues of the tribal hero dot Jharkhand today—they can be seen in parks and gardens, schools and colleges, marketplaces and bus-stands. Yet there is no sign of improvement in the lives of Birsa’s children.
Reportedly, Birsa Munda’s last words (he died in Ranchi Jail) were “Abua raj ete jana, maharani raj tundu jana“ (Let our kingdom be established, let the queen’s kingdom be ended), expressing his desire to end colonial rule and establish self-governance for his people. Sadly, the dream of the visionary still remains a dream, even in independent India.
Vidyarthy Chatterjee writes on cinema, society, politics. He has spent much of his life in Jamshedpur where, along with his father and brothers, he published a weekly paper, Motif, for 35 years.
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It has been said that the best way to know a person is to go by the company they keep. The reasons for the persecution and death of the Jesuit activist-priest, Stan Swamy, can be better understood in relation to his comradeship with Sister Valsa John Malamel, a Malayali nun murdered some 14 years ago in the village of Pachhwara in Pakur district of Jharkhand, about 250 kilometres north-east of Ranchi.
“They buried us. They did not know we were the seeds.” It is with these words from a Mexican proverb that Ranchi-based artist-activists Biju Toppo and Meghnath begin their documentary on Sister Valsa. The film, Hum Aapke SaathHain Saathi (Taking Side), in Santhali, Hindi and English, gives the viewer an idea of the tough conditions in which Adivasis live all over the country and the visionary manner in which their foremost leaders led or lead them. In the film, we hear Father Stan Swamy recalling the example of Sister Valsa and telling us, by implication, that when we are sure of our beliefs, we need not fear anyone.
On November 15, 2011, 53-year-old Sister Valsa was hacked to death by a group of armed men in the tribal village she had made her home. Working with the indigenous people for many years, she had become a force to reckon with. A devoted group of followers was at her beck and call at any hour of the day or night. Politicians, policemen, government officials, and the local mining mafia were wary of her. They found it difficult to pursue their activities since the formidable nun loomed larger than life on the horizon. Simon Marandi, a Jharkhand legislator, went on record saying: “Sister Valsa was very strong. I could not get into the area. She was running a parallel government.”
Sister Valsa’s story
Marandi’s complaint related to Sister Valsa’s success in organising the villagers against the local Panem Coal Mines Ltd, jointly promoted by the Punjab State Electricity Board and the EMTA Group of companies of Kolkata. The anti-mining movement she had initiated in 2002 led to an agreement with Panem in 2006 that allowed the company to mine in the area in return for several benefits to the villagers. Many inhabitants of Pachwara village, where Sister Valsa was killed, said that at the time of the murder she was critical of the company and was preparing for a fresh round of confrontation for what she saw as its failure to abide by the terms of the agreement. The company denied any involvement in the murder, but popular suspicions persist to the contrary.
Also Read | Forest rights activists fear mass evictions as Supreme Court set to hear crucial FRA case on April 2
In early 2012, The Wall Street Journal carried a serialised investigation into the life, work, and murder of Sister Valsa. It took up her story because, to quote its editors, “Her life, and events leading up to her death, appeared to us to touch on many of the big issues that India is facing as it develops rapidly—industrialization, preservation of the traditional ways of life, the Maoist rebellion that is present across several central Indian States, and the relationship between companies and indigenous tribes.” Reading between the lines, one will perhaps discover a thinly-veiled indictment of New Delhi’s methods of persecution of outspoken critics.
Sister Valsa John Malamel, a Malayali nun, was murdered some 14 years ago in the village of Pachhwara in Pakur district of Jharkhand.
| Photo Credit:
By Special Arrangement
The so-called “rapid development” of India may have benefitted a certain class of Indians living in the big cities and enjoying a life of leisure, but the fruits of the “economic growth and prosperity” that Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his associates are given to proclaiming at the drop of a hat, have not only bypassed large parts of rural India and the lower classes in the towns and cities but have also been possible because of the ceaseless exploitation of Adivasis, Dalits, and other disadvantaged communities. Sister Valsa signed her own death warrant when she, making common cause with the tribals, plunged into the strife.
Almost 14 years after her murder, expressions like “crusader” or “friend of the poor and the oppressed” are still being showered on her by many. However, with the passage of time, following the inevitable laws governing public memory, the number of people using such expressions to describe her is likely to become less and less. The court cases against the accused may ultimately crumble for “want of evidence”—that hateful piece of legalese which has come to the rescue of countless criminals. Remember how easily Shankar Guha Niyogi’s killers whistled their way out of different law courts in the country, from Raipur to New Delhi.
The Nagri violence
However, at the end of the day, resistance to oppression can never be snuffed out. Whether it is the State or big capital, or the wayward sections of the judiciary and the media, the oppressor will always be opposed. This is what the Mexican proverb quoted in the documentary reminds us of.
This year marks the 150th birth anniversary and the 125th death anniversary this year of the martyred tribal hero, Bhagwan Birsa Munda (1875-1900). Celebrations are on in Jharkhand, Odisha, West Bengal, and other parts of the country. This is an appropriate time to dwell on the abysmal conditions in which Birsa’s children are forced to live and die. Here the Nagri incident, like the one in Pachwara that claimed Sister Valsa’s life, is an eye-opener.
Nagri village, about 20 kilometres from the Jharkhand capital of Ranchi, was in the eye of a storm for several months in 2012. Without consulting the inhabitants of the village, the government of Jharkhand acquired 227 acres of tribal land to construct a central law university, an Indian Institute of Management, and several institutes of information technology. The villagers of Nagri claimed that the land was agricultural, had been so for generations and, so, the government should look elsewhere for the proposed educational hub.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi pays tribute to freedom fighter Birsa Munda on his birth anniversary, which is celebrated as Janjatiya Gaurav Divas, at Birsa Munda Museum, in Khunti, Jharkhand, on November 15, 2024.
| Photo Credit:
ANI
Ranchi city turned into a battleground between policemen and protesting villagers under the leadership of the popular tribal leader, Dayamani Barla. Adivasi children and women carrying placards that read “Nagri raiyoto ki jameen wapas karo” (Land belonging to Nagri farmers must be returned) were seen all over the city.
Initially, the government used force to put down the resistance. Tribal lives were lost and many of the protesters were injured. Later, Arjun Munda’s BJP regime tried other means, like mixing discussions with threats, to take the wind out of the sails of the defiant villagers. Nagri residents took to protesting outside the Chief Minister’s house. Black flags and loud slogans at key points in Ranchi became the order of the day, indicating that displacement of Adivasis in the name of “development” or “progress” would not be tolerated.
Arun Pradhan, a land stir activist, went on record saying that the whole purpose of separating the tribal districts of south Bihar to form the State of Jharkhand, avowedly to serve the interests of Adivasis, was defeated by the government’s illegal land acquisition moves and other related measures. Pradhan said, “The basic purpose of having a separate Jharkhand has been defeated. It was created to preserve the rights of the tribal to jal (water), jungle (forest) and jameen (land). But the government is hell-bent upon snatching away tribal land.”
Still defiant
This is the scenario not just in Jharkhand but all over India, wherever they are pockets of Adivasi land. Adivasis, the original inhabitants of the land, are denied rights to their land, livelihood, traditional lifestyles, and to an identity that is quite different from that of the diku (the outsider). Everywhere they are displaced and marginalised. But the good news is that everywhere they are defying the arson and anarchy to which they are being subjected.
Tribal people protest against the arrest of social activist Dayamani Barla and the Nagri land acquisition in Ranchi on December 15, 2012.
| Photo Credit:
MANOB CHOWDHURY
Almost all the major steel plants in India are located in what was once tribal land. These factories attracted people from all parts of the country who soon began to encroach upon the homes, hills, fields and jungles of the Adivasis. Be it in Jamshedpur, Rourkela, Bhilai or Bokaro, all the “steel cities” today are peopled with outsiders who have done well for themselves while the original owners of the land have been reduced to dire poverty.
The anger of the Adivasis at the displacement is encoded in songs sung at their chief festival, Tusu. One song I have heard in Jamshedpur (or Tatanagar) goes, “Torey dekley aamaar gaa joley, tui asli keney Tatanagarey, kay dilo ray jhaal bora Tusu Porobay” (My body burns with rage at the sight of you, why did you have to come to Tatanagar). Here the singer is expressing anger at the excesses of the capitalists and their accomplices, outsiders all, against her and generations of her people. But bereft of power as she is, her anger cannot be translated into action.
Also Read | Chhattisgarh’s new BJP government restarts controversial coal mining in Adivasi areas
Another line from the same Tusu song moves away from the theme of usurpation of land and exploitation of natural resources to the abuse of the daughters of the tribal people. “Key dilo rey laal sari, oiSakchir burha Punjabi” speaks of the sexploitation of the young Adivasi woman who is rewarded with a red sari for agreeing to or being forced to agree to go to bed with the old Punjabi (read, the outsider) from Sakchi, the Adivasi settlement where Jamshedpur was founded more than a hundred years ago
In 1977, Mahasweta Devi wrote the Sahitya Akademi Award-winning book, Aranyer Adhikar (Rights of the Forest). The book is a stirring reconstruction of the brief life of Birsa Munda and the turbulent times in which he lived. Statues of the tribal hero dot Jharkhand today—they can be seen in parks and gardens, schools and colleges, marketplaces and bus-stands. Yet there is no sign of improvement in the lives of Birsa’s children.
Reportedly, Birsa Munda’s last words (he died in Ranchi Jail) were “Abua raj ete jana, maharani raj tundu jana“ (Let our kingdom be established, let the queen’s kingdom be ended), expressing his desire to end colonial rule and establish self-governance for his people. Sadly, the dream of the visionary still remains a dream, even in independent India.
Vidyarthy Chatterjee writes on cinema, society, politics. He has spent much of his life in Jamshedpur where, along with his father and brothers, he published a weekly paper, Motif, for 35 years.
