By Akash Poyam (Gond/Koitur, CS Fellow)
"Kete ujad gaye, suna padgaye…parsa kete ma khulish khadan, paar parosi man ho gain biraan, bhai bhai man nai pahchan, apan man ab ho gaye anjaan…putu khukhdi ma din bitaan, nai mile ab lakri paan, dau dada ke nikalat he jaan, laika chauwa ke nei hai dyaan…"
("Kete got destroyed, everything has become numb…the mine opened in Parsa and Kete and the neighborhood has become desolate…even brothers don’t recognize each other, we have become strangers to each other…we used to spend our days collecting wild mushrooms, now we can’t even find wood and leaves anymore, our parents are in grief, and they can’t even think of their children…")
These are the words from “Kete Ujan Gaye” (Kete Got Destroyed), a song written by Shiv Prasad Kusro (Gond), an artist whose village, Kete, was uprooted for a coal mine in the Hasdeo Arand forest in Chhattisgarh, Surguja district. Kusro released the song in 2025 in memory of his village.
As Adani Enterprises, a subsidiary of the multinational conglomerate Adani Group, continues to expand its coal mine operations in the villages surrounding Kete, the villagers, the majority of whom belong to Tribal communities, say that besides failed rehabilitation, the destruction of forest and sacred sites continues despite their resistance.
In addition to being a musician, Kusro, now 37, relies on farming for his livelihood. “Kete was beautiful,” he says. “There were fields and forests all across, and there were many kinds of animals that used to visit, such as sambar (deer) and cheetahs.” Now, he says life is extremely difficult: “Just like how difficult our lives are, our spiritual lives are also getting difficult.”
In Kusro’s grandfather’s and father’s time, he recalls that life was good. But since the mine opened in 2010, “[Adani] started sending us here and there. The people of Kete are now scattered.” He adds that people have not seen much monetary compensation, and that the displacement of Kete village has caused a collective trauma to the communities. “I still get tears in my eyes when I think of those times,” he says. “I don’t even feel like talking about it.”
Recent expansion of the mine on the side of Hariharpur village, which is located only a few meters away.
A Brief Chronology of Mining in the Hasdeo Forest
In 2007, the Indian government allocated the coalfields in the Hasdeo Arand forest to Rajasthan Rajya Vidyut Utpadan Nigam Limited, a state-owned utility company of Rajasthan, which appointed Adani Enterprises Limited in 2013 as developer and operator of the mines.
In 2009, the Ministry of Environment, Forest and Climate Change’s Forest Advisory Committee declared the forest a “no-go” mining zone for its rich forest cover. But in 2011, Jairam Ramesh, who was then the environment minister, rejected the Committee’s recommendations and granted approval to the first coal mine, the Parsa East and Kanta Bavan.
Approval for phase II of the mine was given by the environment ministry in 2012. Subsequently, a case was filed against it in the National Green Tribunal, an independent body that deals with cases related to environmental protection and natural resources.
In 2014, mining was suspended in the area. However, Adani challenged the Tribunal order, and the Supreme Court issued a stay, resulting in the continuation of mining in Hasdeo. In addition to Kete and Parsa, Adani plans to acquire land in the villages of Salhi, Hariharpur, Ghatbarra, and Fatehpur in the Surguja district, and Tara and Janardhanpur in the Surajpur district.
A sign at the entrance of Hariharpur village reclaiming rights for Tribal people under the Fifth Schedule of the Indian Constitution.
According to an article in The Guardian, the six coal blocks approved for mining within the Hasdeo forest contain an estimated 5 billion metric tonnes of coal, with the 450 million metric tonnes of coal under Kete alone worth an estimated $5 billion. The article reports that an estimated 1,898 hectares of forest land will be destroyed in the construction of the mines.
Adani Enterprises is owned by Gautam Adani, who is the second richest man in Asia and is said to have close financial ties with Prime Minister Narendra Modi. Adani mining operations have not only threatened the lives of Indigenous people in India, but also in Australia, where the Wangan and Jagalingou Peoples have been fighting against the Carmichael mine in Queensland.
Failed Promises of Rehabilitation
Komalsai, whose name has been changed for this story, is a displaced resident of Kete and an employee of Adani. He recalls when the company first came to Kete, some 15 years ago: “I was around 25-26. At first, geologists from the Indian government came for a survey. After that, Adani came [with the] Rajasthan government. They surveyed and approved the mines here. They have been active since 2008-2009; however, in 2012, people got compensation and were displaced.”
Of the 200 or so displaced families in Kete, 30-35 of them live in the company’s resettlement colony in nearby Basen village. The company promised that children of families who lost their land would be eligible for employment at the mine as soon as they turned 18. Once they reached this age and asked Adani for jobs, “the company said that they have no such policy,” Komalsai says, instead telling their families, “If you get them educated well, get diplomas, then we will be able to give them jobs.”
The first built rehabilitation houses, most of which lie vacant and locked. These two-room apartments are tiny and insufficient for even one family.
The rehabilitation colony consists of less than a square mile. “We were told that we would be given a house. However, it was not confirmed how big the house would be,” Komalsai says, adding, “Those who don’t have jobs are not living in this colony. What will they do and eat?”
Rehabilitation packages were divided into three categories: low, medium, and high land ownership families. The size of the rehabilitation houses was to be based on the amount of land lost. From the original 200 families, 60-70 people got jobs as part of rehabilitation; of these, “some people [quit]. Some people were fired, primarily due to their alcoholism, Komalsai says.
Rehabilitation colony located in one corner of Basen village. Most of the families living here have a family member employed in the Adani mines as part of the rehabilitation policy. However, a threat still looms over their children's future.
The company promised 4.25 lakh ($4,675 USD) for the construction of each house in the settlement. The houses they actually built are 16x16 with two rooms plus a bathroom, “but the quality is not good,” Komalsai says. “Earlier, the company said that they would build a ‘top-level’ rehabilitation colony. But there is nothing here. No electricity, water, road, education, or healthcare. On paper, they may show that they’ve done work, but it’s not reflected in reality.”
A locked mushroom production center sponsored by RVUNL Ltd., which appointed Adani as a partner for coal mines in Hasdeo.
The resettlement colony, located on the outskirts of Basen village, is divided by a small river. Until last year, there was no bridge or road, and people had to leave their bikes and cross the river. “The road was built only last year,” Komalsai affirms. “Even now, during the monsoon, the water goes above the bridge.”
Adani promised free education, healthcare, and clean water. “However, when we came here, there was no drinking water. We dug a bore with our own money. Last year, the company gave two bores, of which one is not usable. Electricity was also supposed to be free, but it’s not,” Komalsai says. While the company has opened a health center, there is no hospital, and according to Komalsai, “There is no regular doctor in the health center. There is only a first aid center for workers who get injured.”
Kusro says that when Adani was acquiring land for the mines and displacing villagers, he told authorities, “I have just one request: that they write on a stamped paper that my three generations will be secured and taken care of. Because if our village is uprooted, our [official land settlement] is over. The officials said that their words themselves were the stamp. I said, ‘How can I believe you? You will leave tomorrow.’ But my request was ignored.”
He continues, “I say this: go and survey how many people from Kete are safe and alive, and how many have died. They said that people would be given a monthly stipend, old people will be given a stipend, but since 2011, there has been no survey or nothing, no government or company came and did anything.”
A solar street light installed in the rehabilitation colony by Adani Foundation.
In Kete, government officials had promised to provide concrete houses to live in, according to Kusro. “I told them, I am giving you a drawing of the house. In a village meeting, we gave the drawing, and they agreed to build accordingly,” he says. “But the houses Adani has built are smaller than the houses promised under Pradhan Mantri Awas Yojana (a government-sponsored low-income housing program). Even two families can’t live in the houses they built.” Despite the inadequate size, Kusro says that as many as 16 people are living in one resettlement house.
“Maybe if the mine hadn’t opened, my sister wouldn’t have died…she left two kids behind,” Kusro laments. “Elders used to say that you will reap what you sow. We are somehow alive, but we did not protect our spirits, and that’s why we are roaming around here and there. We had not imagined that life would be like this one day.”
In Parsa as well as Kete, there are many widows. “Many family members have died in my family,” Kusro says. “The compensation money did no good to the Kete villagers. People could neither build a house nor do good farming.”
As he anticipated, the lack of settlement documents that prove a claim over land title is a huge hurdle for displaced people now. “When we go to offices, they ask for settlement and ancestry documents,” Kusro says. “I told them that we have lost everything, and we have been told that we don’t need settlement documents. They said we still need it. It costs 1,000 rupees ($11 USD) to get it. The government officials should understand that our land has been destroyed in the mines and make exceptions for this document, but they say that we need to get a new one.”
Signboard of Adani Vidya Mandir, a private school run by Adani coal mines. While the school was meant to educate displaced and affected families, it is mostly Adani employees’ children who get admitted.
Additionally, Kusro says the villagers had demanded that schools should be opened in the places where they live. “Officials said that they would establish anganwadi, health, and education facilities,” he recalls. Yet, the lone school was built in Salhi. “There is a small health center with no doctor; we have to go to Udaipur town for the hospital,” he says.
Kusro was able to enroll his three school-age children in the Adani school. When the fourth one was ready, the school turned him away, saying he already had three children enrolled. “They tried to convince me, but in protest, I took my children out of that school and enrolled them in a nearby government school.” Komalsai has encountered a similar obstacle: “We have put one of our kids in the Adani school, and they say they can’t take more than that. They say we can’t have more than two children. Now we have three, four, five children...what do we do?”
Displacement and Ruptured Families
Kusro lived with his parents and siblings in three large houses in Kete, but since the opening of the Adani coal mine, his family is now scattered. None of his family members currently lives together; when they had to look for new land after being displaced, they purchased land wherever they could find a good deal. Kusro’s story is not unique—it is also the story of 200 families that lived in Kete.
Ganesh Shyam is a 38-year-old farmer and displaced resident of Kete who now lives in the company’s rehabilitation colony in Basen village. Four generations of his family had been living in Kete when the mines came in. “Life in Kete was good,” he recalls. “People weren’t roaming around here and there. Now, since the mine has opened, you ask someone where they are, and they will tell you how their parents or relatives are scattered across different places. That’s how life has become.”
Travelling to meet family and relatives scattered across a large region is an additional expense. “How can a poor man travel so much to meet family members?” Shyam asks. “My family is in other villages like Udaipur, Palka, Morga…the situation is the same for other displaced families.”
Hasdeo Arand Forest is rich in biodiversity and provides vital resources for communities. It's also an elephant corridor. Human-animal conflict has become a norm due to mines.
In neighboring Salhi village, where people are resisting the expansion of the Adani mines, Anand Ram Kusro, 55, is an active part of the resistance movement. His mother and relatives were from Kete. Today, many of his relatives’ whereabouts are unknown. “Some are probably alive, some are dead now. We don’t have any news. Seeing this scares us. We don’t want to be in a situation like Kete,” he says.
Due to displacement, Prasad says, the future generation of Kete village will face many difficulties. “We are not able to get certificates of being a Scheduled Tribe or residence for our children,” he says. “I wonder how things will go.”
Lack of Access to the Forest
The families displaced from Kete have lost more than their land and their homes—they have also lost access to the precious resources of the forest. “The forest has already been cut for mining. Whatever fruit trees our ancestors had planted, such as mango and jackfruit trees, are no longer there. Even the mahua trees, where people had marked areas for each family to pick from, have now been cut down for the coal mine,” Komalsai says.
Trees that were cut down by Adani in Salhi village led to protests in 2024. The expansion of the Adani mines in Salhi village is already underway, despite the community's resistance.
Komalsai says that those displaced from Kete who have moved to other villages “have to live under the shelter of other villagers. You don’t have many rights as an outsider; you can’t do anything and have to agree to whatever the villagers say. When we were in our own village, we lived like kings.” But now, he says, they are considered newcomers. “The new villagers say that you cannot use our forest, and we must listen to them. What can we do? Sometimes when we go to the forest to pick tendu leaves or wood, they say, ‘You have sold your land and come here, now you want to sell it, too.’”
Another resident of Kete, Ganesh, recalls that they used to grow various kinds of paddy, millet, and other crops, but since they left the village, they have nothing left. “Now, on what land will we cultivate these?” he asks. “We used to gather wood to construct houses. We used to collect fruits of mahua, tendu, and char from the forest,” he said. “Now we buy these. One sack of wood costs us 150 rupees. When we go to the forest, the forest officials say, ‘You have sold your forest, and now you’re stealing from others,’ so we don’t go anymore. There’s no more tendu and char fruits.”
New tendu trees growing less than 500 meters from the blasting site near Hariharpur. Tendu leaves are a key source of income and are used to make beedi (thin cigarettes). The tree also provides tendu fruit, which can be sold in markets.
In Salhi village, Anand Ram Kusro tells a similar story. He says that they used to collect produce from mahua, sarai, and saja trees and collect mushrooms and wild fruits, “but today, Adani has destroyed the forest.” After the monsoon rains, people pick putu and khukdi (wild mushrooms) and sell the leftovers, which gives them some extra earnings. After this, the mahua, char, and tendu season comes. “We do farm work for six months, and in the other six months we can survive off the forest,” he explains. “The jungle is like a bank to us without cash. We can sell so many things from the forest and earn money, such as wood, saal seed, harra fruit, char chironji, mahua, tendu leaves...”
The cutting down of forests has also led to increasing conflict with elephants. The Hasdeo Arand forest is an elephant corridor, and the mine has a huge impact on wildlife. Prasad says that he had never ever seen an elephant before the opening of mines. But “today, elephants coming to villages are common. They break people’s houses. But the authorities should understand that this forest is their first home. We were requesting that the forest shouldn’t be cut and we should make a place for elephants, but who listens to us?”
Adani water treatment plant near Hariharpur. Despite the treatment plant, the water that is released is polluted and turns the soil black, as can be seen here.
Pollution is also an issue. “Utensils and other things become black and even red due to dust,” Ganesh says. “There are only two drinkable borewells; others have unusable water. During the wind, the dust from mines comes to the village. The water from mine is released in the Atem River.”
Ramgarh, a nearby sacred hill where the Uikey clan of the Gond Peoples makes offerings, is also threatened due to mines. “It has many cracks. On one side, it's already broken. Houses, too, have cracks; some people’s houses have already fallen,” Ram says. During monsoons, he adds, “it’s even more risky, as mud houses become moist. The dust also comes into the house. Even when we cover the water pot, somehow the dust still enters; we don’t know how.”
The water body that flows side by side with the mines and affected villages. The polluted water is pumped out through a canal and merges with this water body, which is used by humans and animals.
The Myth of Monetary Rehabilitation
Around 2013, when Adani started its mining operations in the Hasdeo forest and began giving compensation to the displaced people, a resident of Kete village received about 1.5 crore rupees ($164,000 USD) in compensation for his land. When I visited Basen village in 2022, where many displaced families from Kete live, Prasad told me about a man who had less than 5,000 rupees ($55 USD) left in his bank account. He died last year due to illness.
As part of the rehabilitation, Adani built small houses with common toilets in Basen village, but these houses lie mostly empty now, and people have chosen to settle elsewhere. While a few received such a large sum in compensation, many others received resettlement payments of just 10% of the original amounts—less than the market value of their land.
Rehabilitation policies often include a promise of employment and monetary benefits, which have become an issue of contention between the older and younger generations within Tribal communities. In 2018, Lalsu Nogoti told us that in the movement against the Surajagarh iron ore mine, it was mostly the Elders who engaged in the resistance, while younger, educated people see employment opportunities and tend to side with the company—a situation that remains similar today.
Shiv Prasad Kusro, an artist from Kete village, whose family was displaced after being uprooted from their homes. He now lives in the rehabilitation community in the adjacent Basen village with a large family in a relatively small house.
The Land Acquisition Act of 2013 does incorporate a section stating that “In case of displacement from the Scheduled Areas, as far as possible, the affected families shall be relocated in a similar ecological zone, so as to preserve the economic opportunities, language, culture, and community life of the Tribal communities.” However, the clause “as far as possible” is a vague term that can be misused, and several studies have highlighted the failure to implement these policies in scheduled areas.
The people of Salhi village were in the news for protests last year after Adani cut down hundreds of trees and expanded the coal mine, despite the people’s opposition. Currently, the mine is operating right on the edge of a sarna, or sacred grove, and another sacred site of Persa Pen, an ancestral spirit.
The rehabilitation policy only considers human beings as part of the “community.” So what happens to the non-human beings, such as the hills, trees, ponds, rivers, forests, and so on, which are considered sentient and even part of extended kinship in Tribal cosmologies? The issue is twofold: firstly, the sociocultural and economic significance of money among the Tribal communities, and secondly, a dissonance between the life and worldview of Tribal communities and the rehabilitation policies designed for them.
“Those who had less land got less money. Some thought, I have money, so I’ll buy motorbikes; some finished it off. Now, they are roaming around. Some people are nearby, those who have not taken land. Some are selling wood; some are doing something else,” Komalsai says.
A small stream flows toward the Ramgarh hills, originally the sacred hill of the Uikey clan, now appropriated by Hinduism. The rocks on the hill, located about 20 km from the mining site, are starting to crack due to blasting from the nearby mines.
Loss of Ancestral Spirits
There were many ancestral spirits in Kete, such as Gaura Mata, Isarraja, Sundorani, Sivarihya, Diharin, Thakur, Deur Gosain, Dhodi Gosain, Manwair, to name just a few. “Most of our ancestral spirits in Kete got left on the side of the village,” Prasad says, expressing grief. “They are roaming around here and there.” Throughout the year, villagers held rituals for different spirits. For instance, he explains, “Sivarhiya is a forest spirit, and every time people went to the forest for wood or produce, they’d ask Sivarhiya to take care of them and accompany them into the forest.
Similarly, the sarai tree is sacred; Persa Pen resides in the saja tree, and another female spirit is in the tamarind tree. My grandfather and father used to say that Geur Gosain Dai, a female village spirit, said that we could live well in Kete village for over a hundred years,” Prasad says. But after the mine opened, “it didn’t even take 10 years for Kete and the forest to get destroyed.”
Sacred site of Persa Pen, the supreme ancestral spirit for the Gonds and other Tribes, lies less than 500 meters away from the mines and is under threat of being destroyed.
Prasad says that when Adani came to Kete, they said, “This village is nothing in comparison to places you could go to.” People in the village responded that they could not leave their village and spirits. The company said that they could bring the spirits to a different place. “I told the baiga (priest), ‘How can he do that?’” Kusro recalls. “The baiga responded, ‘You are a kid, you won’t understand.’ I said, ‘All right.’ I reached out to an Elder, and he agreed to question the destruction of many spirits and spirit spaces.”
In Salhi, too, sites of ancestral spirits are under threat of being destroyed. “If they are not there, how will we survive?” Ram asks. “They give us strength in a time of need. We are adivasis, we don’t worship idols. Our gods are the saja and sarai tree. That’s what gives us power; it gives us shade and fruits. Who else is better for worshipping?”
Sacred site of a village spirit brought from Kete with its permission.
Prasad feels regret and guilt over losing Kete village: “As the saying goes, as you sow, so shall you reap. I feel the people of Kete are paying for giving their land to the company. Someone's husband died, someone’s wife died, relatives died…I think it all happened because of our mistake. I accept that. Because of our village Elders, we are having to face hardship,” he says.
“The baiga and Elders should have called up all the ancestral spirits; it was the responsibility of baiga, patel (landowners), and Elders. I was young. I tried to tell them many times, but they did not listen to me,” Prasad says. “Today I am under the guardianship of the spirits of Basen village. I am alive because of them. I get tears thinking of the struggle and hardship with which we’re living right now.”
Tribal communities from affected villages hold placards demanding, "Stop Illegal Mining;" "Stop exploitation of Adivasis, Respect their Rights;" and "Stop the violation of PESA and Forest Rights Act" with #Save Hasdeo slogans.
Community’s Resistance Against Expansion
In nearby Salhi, the villagers are resisting the expansion of the Adani mines. In October 2024, villagers of Salhi, Hariharpur, Ghatbarra, and Fatehpur faced off in a violent confrontation with the Chhattisgarh police, as they were opposing the cutting down of sacred trees for phase II.
“This is a village of (ancestral spirit) Budhadev,” Ram says. “We have hundreds of kinds of trees like saja, sarai, and dhaura in this forest. But today, the Adani company has cut down and destroyed our Hasdeo forest. The company is threatening and harassing us to get their work done.”
The people have been fighting against the mines for over 10 years, but they still haven’t accepted defeat. “We will continue this fight no matter what,” Ram says. “I believe we will win this fight one day. Our fight is for truth. By doing a fraudulent gram sabha (consultation), by threatening and harassing people, by bribing people with alcohol, chicken, and other things, [Adani] is doing its work.”
Ram says that the government and Adani are working hand in hand, and “No one is bothered about what will happen to our children. The river is dying out. Our spiritual spaces are getting destroyed. We are Adivasis. How can we live without the forest?”
Ram says that they’ve been demanding the government take the mine out of the forest, but the government has not listened to them: “We will fight this till the end, until our last breath. We will fight till our death. Otherwise, where else will we go? We will not leave this fight. In our village, Salhi, in Surguja, in the entire Chhattisgarh [state] and India, the consequences of this coal mine will be visible.”
---Akash Poyam (Gond/Koitur) is a writer and researcher based in Chhattisgarh, India. He is a contributing writer for The Caravan Magazine, New Delhi. Formerly a member of the faculty at the Asian College of Journalism, Chennai, he holds a master’s degree in Sociology from the University of Hyderabad. He is a 2025 Cultural Survival Indigenous Journalism Fellow.
Top photo: Anand Ram Kusro stands in front of the ongoing expansion site of the Adani mine in Salhi village. Behind him lies a sacred grove of sal trees.
