Global Tiger Day: The game is as good as over for the wild ones

At the present rate of habitat loss due to rapid and mindless development, the World Bank’s promise of doubling the number of wild tigers by 2022 is a joke

FirstPost, 28 July, 2013

Depending on which part of the globe you are in, today and tomorrow will see a series of events to celebrate the tiger’s cause. For example, the big cats at the Smithsonian zoo, where the World Bank launched its Global Tiger Initiative (GTI) in 2008 to double the existing population of 3200-odd tigers by 2022,“will receive special treats in their yards at various times throughout the day”.

Their wild counterparts are supposed to have it even better. More than sixty per cent of the $350 million estimated cost for the first five years of implementation, claims GTI, is “in hand or in process”. That makes more than $60,000 per tiger in the wild or more than $1000 per tiger per month. Lavish, one would say, given that most wild tigers are found in south and south-east Asia where per capita income does not exceed $2000.

Clearly, money is not the issue. Less so in India — home to more than half of the world’s wild tigers — which is apparently flush with conservation cash. A recent study on biodiversity finance published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences puts India far ahead of the 40 most underfunded countries that included China, Australia and France.

In the five years between 2007 and 2011, officially, tiger numbers increased by 295 in India. A number of tiger forests left out during the 2006-07 estimation were covered in 2010-2011. Comparing the common areas assessed on both occasions, the Ministry of Environment and Forests (MoEF) modified the population growth to 12% or 170 tigers.

Not only the tiger but every long-ranging animal, particularly the elephant, is paying the ultimate price of local extinction for our unplanned growth. Reuters

It is always difficult to sustain a growth rate as the base grows. But even if we assume that the sarkari claim of 12% population gain every five years will be sustained, it will achieve a net gain of just 43%, not even the halfway mark of the 100% target set by the GTI in 15 years. At this rate, unless the government manufactures more paper tigers, it cannot possibly jack up the population beyond 2050 by 2022.

Even that, frankly, would be no mean feat. While many conservationists keep clamouring for 4000 tigers in next 15 or 20 years, it is reasonable to conclude that India does not have adequate forest cover to safely house more than 2400-2600 tigers, a range closer to the GTI target of doubling the 2007 population of 1400. If only we were on track to achieve that realistic goal.

In the same five years between 2007 and 2011, while claiming a net gain of 12% in the tiger population, the MoEF also recorded a loss of 21,000 sq km or 24% of India’s tiger habitat. In simpler terms, the total number of tigers increased but the area where they were found shrunk by one-fourth. This has two very significant implications.

At this rate, the tiger range will shrink by roughly 58% in the 15 years between 2007 and 2022. It is anybody’s guess how the government plans to achieve that 43% growth in tiger population in that time frame while losing nearly three-fifth (58%) of its territory. Every forest has a natural carrying capacity – availability of land area, food and water — that does not increase dramatically over time. Theoretically, to achieve a 43% growth in tiger number while losing 58% of tiger range will require the remaining tiger forests to increase their carrying capacity by nearly three times – a biological impossibility in just 15 years.

If anything, losing such large chunks of tiger range will only stymie the growth in tiger population. It is easy to blame poachers for the tiger’s disappearance from 22,000 sq km of its 2007 range by 2011. But what equally jeopardises the striped cats is our rush to mine dense forests, drown lush habitats under dam reservoirs and build highways and railways blocking natural passageways that make large areas out of bounds for wildlife.

Not only the tiger but every long-ranging animal, particularly the elephant, is paying the ultimate price of local extinction for our unplanned growth. Ironically, while backing GTI, the World Bank also funds such projects across the tiger range countries. In India, the Plan panel slashed the conservation funds it allocates to the high-profile MoEF, apparently to rein in the ministry which anyway clears 99% of the project proposals it receives.

In such a scenario, whatever success the government claims is limited to “pocket conservation”. Already, a handful of reserves account for more than half of India’s tigers. Business as usual will soon reach a stage where, possibly barring a section of the Western Ghats, tigers will be confined to island forests without any access to the neighbouring population. This will be a genetic disaster in the long term and isolated populations may eventually wither away.

Unfortunately, achieving tiger numbers and the survival of the species in itself is at best of mere welfare value. The importance of protecting the top predator of the Indian wild is in the assumption that the tiger’s welfare reflects the vibrancy of the forests it occupies. The relatively strong focus on tiger conservation has not benefitted many ‘lesser species’ under this umbrella approach. But when the apex species itself disappears from large forest areas so rapidly without a trace of significant reversal, it gives away what is in store.

As increasing pressure on land, water, mineral and timber resources keeps squeezing India’s few remaining old-growth forests, hundreds of tigers may soon have to live on canned food – like a few already do in reserves such as Ranthambhore – and breed happily in “open zoos”. Unlike fortified zoos, these sanctuaries will not stop the big cats from stepping out every now and then and face the bullet (or dart or trap). Until we eventually stop pretending that these are wild, free-ranging tigers and fence the reserves in.

Niyamgiri's Next Dilemma

Developing Kondh villages may change how tribals feel about their sacred hills

Tehelka, 26 July, 2013

Few knew about the Dongaria Kondhs in Odisha until the State decided to mine their hills for bauxite a decade ago. The tribals resisted the move but a massive aluminium refinery came up in the foothills. By then, the prospect of lush hilltops being ripped open by miners attracted many counter-stakeholders. NGOs and activists quickly adopted the ancient tribe’s cause. The Dongaria Kondhs and their Niyamgiri became an international symbol of an indigenous people’s fight against State coercion and corporate greed.

But life has not changed for these tribals. And for all its romance, life in Niyamgiri is far from idyllic. There are no roads, no health centres, no schools, nothing. The state provides 7 kg of rice to each tribal every month. The hills provide the rest, at a steep cost. Drinking water has to be fetched from streams. Basic healthcare is taken care of by traditional medicines. Anything bigger usually means death. In most villages, women outnumber men who often die young.

Though the involvement of so many non-governmental players has not made life any easier in Niyamgiri, the leadership of the anti-mining movement blames the government for abandoning these tribals. Decades after Independence, when the State finally reached Niyamgiri in the beginning of a new millennium, it did not bring healthcare or education along. “It came to rob these tribals on behalf of a company for money. I hope they (the tribals) give a fitting reply tomorrow,” said Lingaraj Azad ofNiyamgiri Suraksha Samiti on the eve of the first palli sabha that was held at Sekarpadhi, a hamlet of 46 voters, on 18 July.

Azad has not been disappointed. Allowed by the Supreme Court to decide if miningwill violate their rights, the Dongaria Kondhs have unequivocally rejected Vedanta Aluminium Ltd (VAL). The pro-mining lobbies pinned their hope on the only non-Dongaria village among the 12 selected by the Odisha government. But on 23 July, even the Goud community, traditional herdsmen who are OBCs, of Tadijhola said no tomining. With the first four palli sabhas setting the tone, it is unlikely that the remaining eight will buck the trend. Guiding me to Sekarpadhi, a candid village youth claimed that “nobody supported the company” and “if anyone did, the rest would tear him into pieces”.

What strikes one the most at Niyamgiri is the unanimity among the tribals. In most other similar campaigns, the younger generation, or at least a section of it, aspires for the so-called good life and fights their elders’ resistance to giving up traditional livelihoods. This generational shift in attitude is usually triggered by the youth’s exposure to modern education and gadgets. A pro-development non-tribal resident of Lanjigarh, where VAL has built its mega refinery, rued that “the State and the company were in a hurry and did not push education and modern amenities such as gas cylinders”. Simply building roads and setting up grocery shops, he claimed, could make a difference.

Speaking on condition of anonymity, an official in the Rayagada district administration agreed that the State missed its chance. “NGOs have a reason to discourage education and keep them (the tribals) in those remote miserable villages. This way, the Dongarias remain wary of the outside world. We have started working. But by the time the State schemes make any difference, it may be too late for the project,” he said.

While a number of Dongaria Kondhs complained about the highhandedness of the security forces, they were not really worried about lack of education or infrastructure. Emotionally attached to the Niyamgiri, they are doing everything in their power to defeat the mining plans. But the dilemma about their future remains. Mining is not the cost they should have to pay for the basic development every community deserves. Yet, if and when it reaches Niyamgiri, will development with all its trappings make them feel differently about their hills? Or will the Dongaria Kondhs find a way to escape the worst of two worlds?

After creating wealth, we have turned to happiness

How deciding what is good for others comes to us naturally

DNA, 24 July, 2013

These are the new creation theories. Well, not so new really, at least not the one about wealth creation. For a long time, economists have wanted us to believe that human enterprise creates assets. All through this pursuit, we have been asked to overlook the fact that material wealth is finite in nature. No business, industry or economy can create wealth out of thin air. It needs resources such as water, land, minerals and so on. Yet, we pompously claim the process of converting and exhausting natural wealth into tradable commodities, and thereby exhausting the resources, as creation of wealth.

In India, the lament over GDP growth rate is a call to extract more coal and minerals, harnessing more rivers for power, sucking out more groundwater for cash crops or gobbling up more land to accommodate growing infrastructure facilities. All of these are part of the grand alchemy of wealth creation that promises us a better life. No matter the simple arithmetic that estimates a requirement of four times the earth’s resources if everyone were to live the American middle class life so many of us aspire to. Naturally, the big majority must live in different layers of poverty so that a few can have that life of wasteful opulence. Yet, the poor are to blame for not being enterprising enough to ‘create wealth’.

If that was not enough balderdash, the neo-creation theory has further evolved. Having learnt to create wealth, now it wants to ‘create’ happiness. Yes, the same happiness we all feel every now and then for reasons we often don’t even remember; and that that eludes so many of us, often for no apparent reason and despite many sessions with psychologists. It is what Hawthorne described as “a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you”.

But when a company with a proven record of ‘creating wealth’ takes it upon itself to manufacture happiness, it becomes a tradable commodity offered to buy consent from a community fiercely opposed to let anyone rip open a patch of green earth they call home. The Dongriya Kondhs of Odisha’s Niyamgiri hills who have been resolutely fighting Vedanta’s plans to mine their homeland for bauxite, have no roads, health centres, schools, nothing. They live on 35 kg of rice that the government provides each family every month and the fruits of the mountain. The effortlessly organic mangoes, pineapples, jackfruits, bananas and turmeric they sell make no blip on the GDP radar. They drink a lot, take life easy and die young. Yet, they look and sound happier than most I have met in life.

This can be puzzling to us. But instead of trying to understand what keeps these hill people content, we promptly conclude that they don’t feel wretched because they don’t know better. Over the last decade, the debate over Niyamgiri has exposed a few interesting positions. The rabid claims that the opinion or even the wellbeing of a few cannot undermine our national interest. Since the primitive tribes have little or no idea of the Indian nationhood, why not annex their homes as enemy land? The liberal wonders if the government has done enough to educate the tribals about the benefits of mining, implying that such an effort would have surely ended their opposition. After all, how can a bunch of have-nothings resist the lure of the good life? The democrat agrees that the tribal’s have the right to decide but question if their decision was an informed one. Really, should we abandon the Dongria Kondhs who clearly do not know what is good for them?

These are not rants of hair-brained intellectuals. And it is not only the tribal who inspires such condescension. In 2007, for example, when the Left Front government sent armed cadres and police forces to demolish local resistance to development at Nandigram, quite a few jumped in defence of then chief minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee. Among them was the mighty editor of a national daily. In a crafty masterpiece, he did not say a word against the state terror but attacked the Left's narrow politics. He had to devote so many words on the obvious self-destructiveness of the CPI-M only to distinguish between the hackneyed Left and its reformist chief minister.

Soon, he delivered the chilling clincher: the Left must back Buddha, even and particularly after Nandigram, and his economy and if Buddha won, it would have changed the Left, and Bengal, forever. Readers were told that any condemnation of the state terror at Nandigram should also be considered a verdict on Buddha's economics. Expanded, the logic read: Buddha's economics was the only hope for Bengal and he should not be censored for sending armed cops and party cadres to kill and rape at will. The bottomline: the ‘unreasonable’ multitudes are dispensable and it does not matter how they are dispensed with if it is in national interest.

Nobody knows if the state and the company are done with their machinations at Niyamgiri yet or if exposure to modern education or gadgets will change the young Dongriya Kondhs who so resolutely stand by their elders. But, since last week, three village palli sabhas have unanimously rejected the mining proposal. While nobody expects advocates of big development to suddenly welcome the people’s verdict, there is no reason why most pro-business reactions should be so angry and condescending.

In a democracy, it is only fair that different interest groups pursue and stand for different agendas. It is no shame that many of us have our crosses to carry. But we better save those they-know-not-what-they-do lines and let history judge who really needs absolution. Sadly, like wealth and happiness, humility cannot be created.

Niyamgiri vs Vedanta: Tribals learn to film as state may bar media

Hard lessons learnt at the first palli sabha, both state government and Dongriya Kondh tribals redraw strategies for the remaining eleven.

FirstPost, 19 July, 2013

The morning after the first palli sabha at Sekarpadhi, a few villagers in neighbouring Kesarpadhi intently scanned some Odiya dailies. Not the headlines but the photos to check how familiar faces look in print.

In a corner, one made a lively fire to cook chicken and rice for the visitors. The rest debated their options for the second palli sabha on 22 July. A morning tippler emerged from a hut and ambled across the common yard, rehearsing his spirited speech aloud. A couple of youngsters, worried that the perpetually drunk elders would mess up the palli sabha, vowed to axe the salaf trees – a variety of palm prized for its intoxicating sap — of the village.

Villagers in Kesarpadhi scanning local Odiya dailies. Image: Jay Mazoomdaar

In an instant, the can’t-touch-our-Niyamgiri speech changed to a can’t-deny-me-salaf protestation. After all, it is the ‘national drink’ of Niyamgiri. Within minutes, others chose sides. Some would have come to blows had a few activists not intervened. But the edginess hung in the air. Within 24 hours of rejecting Vedanta and staking claim to the entire Niyamgiri hills, the Dongriya Kondhs are worried that Serkapadhi village stopped short of scrapping altogether a recent government verification report that restricted their cultural and religious rights to village peripheries.

“They agreed to sign when a sentence was inserted at the end of the resolution to record that villagers claimed religious and cultural rights on the entire hills. But the resolution also validated a report that claimed to have settled all such rights by identifying areas within the village boundary. We don’t know if the government or the court will misinterpret that. We cannot afford to give Vedanta any excuse to sneak in,” an activist of the Niyamgiri Suraksha Samiti (NSS) translated, as Dongriya Kondh villagers discussed the issue animatedly in Kui, the tribal dialect.

Guttu Sikaka, husband of Parsali sarpanch Telo Sikaka , who was picked up and detained by cops for five months as a suspected Maoist, knows anything is possible. “They asked me to show them the Maoist hideouts. Later, my wife and I were threatened with dire consequences if we did not sign the papers notifying these palli sabhas when we opposed the selection of just 12 villages. They also offered us Rs 2000,” alleged Sikaka, accepting that he took the money because “a panchayat office holder was anyway bound to follow government orders”.

The state officials, however, are equally worried. A Rayagada district official, who was not authorized to speak to media and did not want to be named, regretted the pressure created on the judge by a media overdrive and the presence of too many activists and tribals from other villages at the first palli sabha. The administration, say sources, is hoping that the Bhubaneswar and national press will not stick around. Anyway, it plans to bar outsiders by barricading access routes before holding the remaining palli sabhas. Several officials have already gone on record blaming the activists and politicians for tutoring and instigating the tribals.

An elderly villager at Ijirupa, a desolate Kalahandi village. Image: Jay Mazoomdaar

That seems to be a loaded charge because not a single Dongria Kondh this reporter spoke to wanted mining in their sacred hills. But, being illiterate and shy, most of them are hesitant to speak before strangers. Even the few vocal ones talk mostly in rhetoric without claiming specific rights or articulating how mining activities will affect those. In all fairness, they need a little handholding and encouragement to express themselves in an intimidating formal set up. “We are here to ensure that the tribals are not cheated. They are very clear in their mind but need help to make their points in ways that are legally effective. Calling this tutoring is sheer paranoia,” says Bhala Chandra, a CPI-ML leader.

But with Rs 40,000 crore at stake, and the life, livelihood and religion of several thousands, that paranoia seems infectious. As news arrives that three alleged Maoists were killed in an encounter in the district, an NSS activist claims that this is one of the state’s ploys to intimidate the Dongria Kondhs. “When they hear such news and see so many cops in their village, it makes them worry about the consequences of their fight,” explains Bhala Chandra.

Another activist claims that the govt is building houses at Ijirupa, a desolate Kalahandi village with no inhabitants, to get the palli sabha there rigged. But then who did Rahul Gandhi meet when he famously flew down to this very village in 2008? There was a family there at that time, comes the answer. This reporter found the same family still living at Ijirupa later in the day. Lavanya Gaur, the eldest, emphatically dismissed Vedanta as a “fondi (fraud) company” and his wife Srimati echoed the popular sentiment: “nobody touches our hills”.

There are indeed two new structures in this village of four hutments. Gaur claims that he, not the government, got those erected for family use. The numbers do not add up, though.  Gaur said there were “six more families who keep visiting” and his granddaughter Sulochana counts the total population as 27. While Srimati remembers Ijirupa had eight voters in the last election, an NSS activist claims that the local press reported 80 voters on government records for the Ijirupa palli sabha.

ALSO SEE:

First people's court rejects Vedanta, tribals stake claim to entire Niyamgiri hills

Vedanta vs Niyamgiri: How a tiny tribal hamlet said no to mining

A few kilometres away, Phuldumer village is also preparing for its D-day: 29 July. Vedanta has brought piped water to this village surrounded by massive mango trees but the villagers are not impressed. Young Tongra Majhi went all the way to Sekarpadhi on Thursday to watch the first palli sabha. He claims the experience will help him. “I will say at our palli sabha that we don’t want mining anywhere in Niyamgiri hills. Wherever you slash the body, eventually, it will bleed to death,” he says.

Aware that outsiders, including the media, may not be allowed at palli sabha venues anymore, NSS volunteers are ready with Plan B. At Kesarpadhi, they teach village youths how to use a video camera so that they can record the proceedings on Monday. As for the fight over those salaf trees, the elders have apparently bought peace by promising moderation. “Nothing awakens the confident speaker in Dongriya Kondhs like a tipple or two,” assures a veteran activist, “as long as they watch their limits”.

On Monday though, Kesarpadhi will be more worried about the state machinery crossing the line.

Vedanta vs Niyamgiri: How a tiny tribal hamlet said no to mining

At the first of 12 palli sabhas, nothing deterred 36 Dongria Kondhs who rejected Vedanta’s bauxite mining plans and claimed the entire Niyamgiri as their own

FirstPost, 18 July, 2013

The Serkapadhi village is seen in this photo. Image by Jay Mazoomdar

Serkapadhi, Odisha: If anything, this morning failed to show the day. Neither the routine nor the festive in the build-up could anticipate the acrimonious drama that was soon to follow. In the end, the historic day that saw the first ever palli sabha taking a call on a Rs 40,000-crore mining project was saved, literally, by the sheer resolution of a tiny tribal hamlet.

The build-up was elaborate. Along the two and a half kilometer walk across a stream from Panimunda to Serkapadhi, it was impossible to spot gun toting camouflage in the lush hills flanking the trail. But the CRPF jawans were there, all five platoons of them, positioned early to create a security cordon around Serkapadhi that hosted a pack of officials, including the district judge.

The irony of this sudden over-representation of the state was not lost on a village where the only symbols of sarkar have been a tubewell, two solar poles and a defunct primary school room. What struck a balance was the presence of a larger contingent of politicians, activists, volunteers, media-persons and big support from other Dongria Kondh villages.

Image by Jay Mazoomdar.

Sarat Chandra Mishra, the district judge of Rayagada and the court-appointed independent observer, reached early, wearing a bullet-proof jacket and riding pillion. Cops rested with boxes of tear gas shells under their feet in the shadow of a jackfruit tree weighed down by its bounty. Then, the solidarity march began. More than a hundred Dongria Kondhs from neighbouring villages arrived, walking single file and carrying axes and sticks, to follow the proceedings that commenced sharp at 11 am with 36 of the village’s 44 “alive voters” making up the quorum.

Immediately, Gobinda Sikaka, an angry village youth in a red T-shirt with ‘Max India’ written on it, launched a sharp-tongued attack on a local official, accusing him of betraying the tribals’ cause in the past, and set the tone for the day. After Mishra assuaged Sikaka promising fair play, more than 20 villagers, majority of them women, expressed themselves like probably none in their habitually shy tribe ever dared. They spoke of Niyamgiri as their god and mother, the source of their physical and cultural sustenance, and vowed to die rather than watch it being ravished.

ALSO SEE:

Niyamgiri tribe vs Vedanta: People's court to take a call today

First people's court rejects Vedanta, tribals stake claim to entire Niyamgiri hills

But the stage for confrontation was already set. On 7 July, local revenue and forest officials had conducted a joint verification of the individual and community rights of the villagers and identified areas of religious importance in and around Serkapadhi. Activists held a press conference in  Bhubaneswar last week, alleging that the villagers were tricked by officials in to sign this report that restricted their rights to the village periphery. As the report was scheduled to be endorsed by the palli sabha, the villagers pressed Judge Mishra to reject it in acceptance of the Dongria Kondh’s community right to the entire Niyamgiri hills.

Policeman resting in the shadow a jackfruit tree in Serkapadhi.  Image by Jay Mazoomdaar.

As Mishra insisted that rejecting the report would amount to relinquishing all the rights recorded in it, the meeting hit the first roadblock. After some heated negotiation, villagers gave up the demand for scrapping the report and agreed to a resolution that would note their additional rights. While the resolution was being drafted, someone demanded that the villagers were entitled to a photocopy of the signed minutes, drawing a hasty refusal from Mishra.

Then, Mishra made a costly faux pas. “You are acting too smart despite being illiterate. If you had some education, you would have sold the country,” he snapped. Spoken casually, the words angered an already distrustful crowd. A section of the press contested Sharma while some villagers complained of upper caste prejudice. It was chaos.

Meanwhile, the resolution was ready and was read out aloud. It noted the gist of individual speakers’ statements, highlighting their dependence of Niyamgiri, and also validated the state government’s 7 July report. None objected immediately. Before the draft was offered to the villagers for signing, the judge wanted that the details of the quorum be mentioned in it. In those few minutes, Serkapadhi put its foot down.

Insisting that the resolution mentioned their “additional rights”, Mishra got into an argument to persuade the villagers who refused to budge. At this point, a village elder suggested that the villagers would calm down and agree to sign if the judge left the resolution at the table and waited elsewhere. “How long should I wait,” shot back Mishra, “I’ll have to cancel the palli sabha if they don’t sign.” The final round of argument centred on Mishra demanding geographical specifications of the areas where villagers were to claim their right. “You cannot claim the entire Niyamgiri,” he repeated several times.

With tempers fraying, just when it appeared that the proceedings had hit a dead end, someone in the melee shouted that the villagers were not claiming individual but collective right to the entire hills, a point that was made by others several times before. In an anti-climax, Mishra said he was fine with community rights and added a line at the end of the resolution. The villagers, led by headman Indra Sikaka, queued up in relief. All signatures in place by 2-45 pm, a visibly hassled Mishra shouted at the media for trying to photograph the resolution and left in a hurry.

As the exhausted crowd dispersed, the villagers consulted their leaders in nervous excitement. To many, it was still not clear if it was just a technical confusion that delayed the resolution for over an hour. “All’s well that ends well,” I heard a fellow journalist congratulate a bunch of activists. “Wait until all ends well,” one of them waved back with a wry smile. “There are still 11 palli sabhas to go.”

First people’s court rejects Vedanta, tribals stake claim to entire Niyamgiri hill

FirstPost, 18 July, 2013

The palli sabha at Serkapadhi village registered strong opposition to the proposed bauxite mining by Vedanta and claimed religious and cultural rights on the entire Niyamgiri hills after three and a half hours of high drama today.

At the meeting, Dongria Kondh villagers, both men and women, spoke emotionally and angrily in the presence of the Rayagada district judge appointed as the independent observer.

Village head signs the palli sabha resolution after 3.5 hours of high drama. Image courtesy: Jay Mazoomdar

Tempers soared midway when villagers insisted on scraping a report prepared by the state government limiting their community forest rights last week and later refused to sign the resolution.

As the deadlock continued, the judge at one point threatened to call off the day’s proceedings.

Finally, the Dongria Kondhs relented after the palli sabha resolution was amended to categorically record their claim over the entire Niyamgiri hills.

Following the 18 April Supreme Court order that asked the state to honour the ancient tribe’s religious and other rights within three months, the state government notified on 2 July that palli sabhas would be held at 12 villages in Rayagada and Kalahandi districts between 18 July and 19 August.

Despite severe criticism of its selection of only 12 out of 162 villages in and around Niyamgiri for holding palli sabhas, the state government stuck to its decision after the state’s Advocate General (AG) backed the same.

Even Union Minister of Tribal Affairs V Kishore Chandra Deo was overruled. He had written to the state government, arguing that limiting Gram Sabha proceedings to only 12 villages was not in accordance with the Supreme Court order and directions issued by his ministry under Section 12 of Forest Right Act (FRA).

“The list of villages where rights of forest dwellers are guaranteed under the FRA or where cultural and religious rights are likely to be affected cannot be arbitrarily decided by the state government. It is to be decided by the people (Palli Sabha) where claims would be filed through a transparent manner so that no genuine Gram Sabha which has a legitimate claim is left out of the process,” Vibha Puri Das, secretary, MoTA, had written to the state chief secretary.

Many see a deliberate ploy in the state’s selection of a dozen tiny hamlets to settle the Rs 40,000-crore issue.

“It may not be without reason that a few smaller villages have been chosen, leaving out the bigger ones. We do not know what the government is up to. For example, Ijiurpa, one of the selected villages in Kalahandi district, is non-existent. It has only one non-residential family and no voters,” claims CPI-ML’s Azad.

Wriggling Out Of The Skin

Sansar Chand has already been in jail longer than the Wildlife Act demands

Tehelka, 18 July, 2013

He joined the wildlife trade before turning 13 but it wasn’t until more than three decades later that the law caught up with Sansar Chand. In January 2003, the police in Bhilwara, Rajasthan, nabbed him with two leopard pelts from a train. Until then, Sansar Chand was never caught in possession of any contraband, a key condition for prosecution under the Wildlife (Protection) Act, 1972. In the summer of 2004, he was convicted. Soon, he skipped bail and remained wanted till 29 June 2005, the day Delhi Police finally got hold of him near his longtime den in Sadar Bazar.

In many ways, the aura of Sansar Chand has been larger than life. The 57-year-old is blamed for killing at least 250 tigers, 2,000 leopards, 5,000 otters and another 50,000 lesser wild cats and foxes. But to call him a poacher is to undermine his empire of networks. And to portray him as the kingpin running the country’s biggest wildlife trade syndicate is to overlook his rustic, hands-on approach.

In 1990, none of a dozen-odd ‘witnesses’ saw him jump off the terrace of his ancestral home in Delhi’s Sadar Bazar to evade policemen. He loved his ‘sunglasses’ and even posed in them for press photographers while in custody. Tree-huggers and animal-lovers form instant lynch mobs on social media at the mention of his name. And senior journalists in the Hindi press fight over whose “authoritative” crime report Sansar Chand follows to keep track of the cases against him.

Since his arrest in 2005, Sansar Chand has secured bail, over time, in all the cases pending against him. He also served sentences handed out in two cases. On 16 July, a Delhi court refused to charge him under the Maharashtra Control of Organised Crime Act (MCOCA) that can be evoked only for repeat offenders who have been convicted more than twice in the past. The court apparently disallowed a case under MCOCAbecause it was filed as a supplementary charge. As a result, he is likely to walk free by the time you read this.

This has upset many who find it incomprehensible how the “butcher of Sariska” and “Veerappan of the north” is being allowed to regain control of his sinister trade. But, to be fair, Sansar Chand has already served more than eight years — a year more than the maximum punishment of seven-year imprisonment under the Wildlife (Protection) Act. In fact, he was arrested before the 2006 amendment to the Act that increased the maximum term from five to seven years. Technically, the maximum punishment is the same for killing one and killing a hundred.

Had the agencies wanted to prolong his confinement, they could have coordinated better and saved a charge or two to be pressed after the previous ones failed. But that would not be fair play and anyway could not have compensated for shoddy investigation and weak prosecution. A high-profile accused like him must have been pleasantly surprised when State lawyers repeatedly missed court hearings. The canny operator that he has been, it was anyway extremely difficult to catch him with wildlife contraband.

However, there is one angle of investigation the agencies could have tapped more convincingly. Sansar Chand or his family has no front business and their only significant legal source of income is from the rent of more than three dozen properties across north India. A possible case of disproportionate assets, it could have been probed if and how Sansar Chand inherited or acquired so many properties.

Moreover, Sansar Chand is represented by one of the country’s most expensive law firms, one that also appears, possibly for a nominal fee, for a top conservation NGO. If there is no reason to believe that the firm extends the same courtesy to Sansar Chand, it would be interesting to probe how he can afford his lawyers’ hefty fees. He does not even have a bank account.

When A Hoick In Time Saves Nine

Little skill. No style. But MS Dhoni’s pluck has carried him to certain greatness

Tehelka, 18 July, 2013

The legend of Mahendra Singh Dhoniis far from complete. But after the Port of Spain show, his place among the greatest of Indian sportspersons is secure forever. An unlikely feat, considering batsman Dhoni’s limited skills and hideous style. If Dhoni was a bowler and bowled as gracelessly as he bats, his fate would have been much worse than Anil Kumble’s. The leggie, at his peak, did not have a single bidder for his India shirt at a charity auction in Kolkata, a city that never tires of cricket and adores a certain Chandrashekhar. Kumble did not have that flair or an expressive run-up. He barely turned the ball. Nocricket fan ever went to the ground to see India’s highest wicket-taker bowl.

Fortunately for Dhoni, he bats. And for all the ungainly manoeuvres performed at the crease, he manages to clear the fence more often than most. That plebeian appeal of his utilitarian craft endeared him to the masses early in the career. Soon, like Kumble, Dhoni hit the chord of consistency, if only in the shorter versions of the game. Then he became the finisher. The front-stall crowd anyway loved the promise of item numbers. Imagine its delight when the shove-and-heave routine frequently came as the climactic act.

To the lovers of cricket, though, Dhoni’s diabolic use of that two-kg slab of timber remains an eyesore. Thankfully, the purists were reverse swept out of the game long before his debut. But even farmers may grudge lending the term ‘agricultural’ to describe Dhoni’s batting. In his inimitable collection of nonsense rhymes, Abol Tabol, Sukumar Roy seemingly had a premonition of that in-your-face crudity eight decades ahead of time: “The King’s old aunt (an autocrat)/Hits pumpkins with her cricketbat.”

One of cricket’s clichés is that the cherry looks like an easy-to-clobber football to batsmen gifted with great eyes. But the aesthetics of a shot do not depend on how one’s bat meets the ball. That is a fraction of a moment. What stays is the lingering follow-through or the economy of it. Dhoni’s bottom-handed game never flows. It spurts. With him, it’s never a cut but a chop. The ball is never driven but rammed. He flicks less and fetches more. He does not pull, he flails. Even his defensive shots are like rude prods.

No, not everyone is a Laxman or a Dravid. But remember Kapil Dev? Who used to bat pretty much where Dhoni comes in the order? The former India captain was probably our biggest hitter (yes, ahead of Sandeep Patil and probably CK Nayudu) of the cricketball till Dhoni (and Yuvraj Singh) came along. Batsman Dev’s trademark was the Nataraja shot, an instinctive, effortless pull played while swiveling on the right heel with the front leg drawing an arc in the air.

Compare that to the Helicopter shot Dhoni tries to dispatch full-pitched deliveries to mid-on boundaries. In 2011, the innovation inspired a Pepsi promo that sought to “change the game”; to be fair, without specifying if for better or worse. Sachin also plays a similar shot. But he does not look like an arachnophobic trying to knock himself over in an attempt to bludgeon a spider climbing up his toe. No frontline batsman who scored more than a 1,000 international runs measures up to Dhoni in laboured awkwardness.

As a finisher, Dhoni often has tailenders for company and he rarely tries to shield them. This trait has inspired inevitable comparison with Laxman, who perfected the art of instilling confidence in tail-enders to essay improbable Test partnerships time and again. For Laxman, it was a conscious decision to let a number nine or ten face a certain amount of bowling because the longer format of the game allowed him to aspire for long hauls. One cannot hide one’s partner, sacrifice scoring opportunities and still keep a staid partnership going for hours.

In the shorter format, both opportunity and target are finite. So it makes sense that the frontline batsman will take as much strike as possible to make the most of the limited number of deliveries. Also, since the overs are numbered, one needs to shield a tail-ender only for so long. Yet, as we saw in Port of Spain, Dhoni exposes the weak links for entire overs because he finds stealing singles more difficult than clearing the boundary.

This lack of finer batting skills exposes him time and again in Test cricket where few occasions call for or justify his cobbler act. It also explains why he is usually a slow starter even in the limited-overs formats and plays quite a few dot balls, preparing for the customary assault. More often than not, aware that his Rambo act may not last too long, he defers the assault till the very end of an innings or till the target is in sight.

All these are signs of a fine cricketing sense and understanding of one’s own abilities. At the same time, the strategy of leaving too much for too late is obviously risky and once prompted an ever-grumpy Gautam Gambhir to wonder at a post-match presser if the match could not have been won much earlier. But more often than not, records show that Dhoni’s luck — after all, a freak dismissal takes a single delivery — and self-belief have delivered, staking reasonable claim to cricketing greatness.

Then Port of Spain happened. Imagine it was a tennis match. At two sets all, a champion feels too drained to last the decider fifth set. He realises he cannot exhaust himself too soon. So, focussing on holding his serve, he decides he will not even try to break his opponent’s till the score reaches 5-4. Half an hour later, having virtually conceded four games, he summons all his reserve and breaks his now tired rival’s serve to take the final set 6-4. Last month’s epic semi-final at Roland Garros could have had a different result had a tiring Djokovic considered this strategy and backed himself to execute it. But few even fancy such outlandish options and such a match never happened, except at Port of Spain.

Last week, Dhoni could not protect his partners. He must have prayed hard every time a tail-ender was exposed to Malinga’s yorkers. But he did not swing hard at the next opportunity in panic. Waiting for the weak link in the Lankan bowling, he watched the asking rate climb from three to 15, and the number 11 face too many deliveries. He was lucky the game entered the last over.

Once there, Dhoni finished the match in four balls. That, as the commentators screamed, was magnificent. But that he let a final match reach that daunting stage, trusting himself to score 15 runs in the last six balls to win a tournament, is a near-spiritual triumph rarely achieved in sports. Many, like me, will continue to shudder when Dhoni slaps the air outside the off stump, hoists length deliveries or squats in defence. But we will all root for the man who has, most of all, backed himself to sporting greatness.

Niyamgiri tribe vs Vedanta: People’s court to take a call today

Thanks to SC, people’s court to decide the fate of Niyamgiri hills and Vedanta’s R40,000 crore project in a few hours. The first of 12 gram sabhas scheduled at 11 am

FirstPost, 18 July, 2013

As the sun sets on the lush hills above Serkapadhi, a village of just 22 families and about three kilometers from the nearest motorable road, nervous excitement creeps up like shadows. In a huddle of villagers, veteran Lingaraj Azad of the Samajwadi Jan Parishad and young Sibram Ulaka of the Congress take centre-stage. Extraordinary times forge unusual alliances and the two leaders are here to “ensure that the simple tribals speak their mind and don’t feel intimidated”.

A few women start a fire away from the two solar lights under which the men sit in circles. Further up the slopes, invisible CRPF jawans form a ring to stave off Maoists who have not made clear their stand on mining these hills yet. Volunteers arrive to camp for the night in solidarity with the Dongria Kondhs. The stage is set for the people’s court to decide on the fate of the Niyamgiri hills and Vedanta’s Rs 40,000 crore bauxite mining project.

A Dongria Kondh youth stands guard on the road to Serkapadhi. Image: Jay Mazoomdaar

Following the 18 April Supreme Court order that asked the state to honour the ancient tribe’s religious and other rights within three months, the state government notified on 2 July that palli sabhas would be held at 12 villages in Rayagada and Kalahandi districts between 18 July and 19 August. Once accepted, the claims of rights will be sent to the Union Ministry of Environment and Forests which will take a call on allowing mining in these hills. Serkapadhi will be the first village to decide on Thursday.

Despite severe criticism of its selection of only 12 out of 162 villages in and around Niyamagiri for holding palli sabhas, the state government stuck to its decision after Odisha’s Advocate General (AG) backed the decision. Even Union Minister of Tribal Affairs V Kishore Chandra Deo was overruled. He had written to the state government, arguing that limiting Gram Sabha proceedings to only 12 villages was not in accordance with the Supreme Court order and directions issued by his ministry under Section 12 of Forest Right Act (FRA).

“The list of villages where rights of forest dwellers are guaranteed under the FRA or where cultural and religious rights are likely to be affected cannot be arbitrarily decided by the state government. It is to be decided by the people (Palli Sabha) where claims would be filed through a transparent manner so that no genuine Gram Sabha which has a legitimate claim is left out of the process,” Vibha Puri Das, secretary, MoTA, had written to the state chief secretary.

Many see a deliberate ploy in the state’s selection of a dozen tiny hamlets to settle the Rs 40,000-crore issue. “It may not be without reason that a few smaller villages have been chosen, leaving out the bigger ones. We do not know what the government is up to. For example, Ijiurpa, one of the selected villages in Kalahandi district, is non-existent. It has only one non-residential family and no voters,” claims Samajwadi Jan Parishad’s Azad.

This is intriguing because the SC appointed two district judges of Rayagada and Kalahandi as independent observers to ensure that “only registered voters are present during the palli sabha”. Says Rayagada district judge Sarat Chandra Mishra, “I will have no say in the proceedings of the palli sabha or how it is conducted. I will just observe and send the minutes to the SC.” All the palli sabhas will be recorded on camera.

Many fear that heavy security and a large contingent of state officials may intimidate the Dongria Kondhs who are known to be reclusive and shy. “Of the 300-odd families in these 12 villages, more than 80 percent are very clear in their mind. They will never support Vedanta but they may simply get overwhelmed by so many outsiders during the meeting. Also, a lot will depend on the interpreters because most of them speak only Kui, their tribal language, that no official will understand,” says Azad.

In fact, given their experience with Vedanta and a high-handed administration, activists here are never short of conspiracy theories. Sibaram Ulaka, Rayagada Youth Congress president and son of former state minister Ramachandra Ulaka, claimed that the government deliberately chose 18 July for the first gram sabha anticipating that the media and public attention would be focused on Lord Jagannath’s Bahuda yatra. “The first meeting may set the tone for the entire process. We hear a lot of money has already changed hands. We are alert to every possibility and trust the villagers not to walk into any trap,” says Ulaka.

On the eve of D-day at Serkapadhi though, there is little indication of any prevarication. Brandishing

“Nobody messes with our god. We will show them the door,” snaps Rupa Jakesika. Image: Jay Mazoomdaar

his new cycle, Damodar Kardarka dismisses the possibility that “the company” may manipulate any support here. “Young or old, we would rather die than give away our mother,” he says, thanking “the hills for giving him everything – food, water and shelter”. Young Kardarka’s boldness is infectious as even Serkapadhi’s women open up to strangers. “Nobody messes with our god. Tomorrow we will show them the door,” snaps Rupa Jakesika, who, with her grandson in the lap, listens in rapt attention to the men.

Since the April judgement, Vedanta has been maintaining a cautious silence. Terming the proceedings as “issues between the state and the central governments”, Vedanta Alumina chief operating officer Mukesh Kumar refused to comment on the company’s expectation from the forthcoming palli sabhas. However, the company’s 1 million tonne alumina refinery at Lanjigarh in Kalahandi resumed production last week after seven months of closure.

The Maoists, known for their influence in the region, have not spoken either. “That is one veto power that can swing anything here,” warns a Kondh villager, “We hope they stay out of it.”