Adivasis of Adhaura: fear in the forest

Srinath Singh Kharwar recalls the silence in the dense forests of Adhaura when he and his friends would enter to harvest tendu (Diospyros melanoxylon) leaves. The silence would soon be replaced by the voices of his fellow Adivasis talking and singing. “We carried food and water from home. As we chatted and conversed amongst ourselves, the forest would come alive,” Srinath says, recalling the festive atmosphere.

The 47-year-old Srinath is reliving memories from nearly two and a half decades ago. We are seated next to each other on a bus bound for the Adhaura hills. The bus left the slumbering town of Bhabhua in Kaimur, a southern district of Bihar, early in the morning. Most of our co-travellors are Adivasis who migrate out for work, now returning to their villages.

Srinath is returning to his village Chanpura. He now works at a cement factory in Patratu, Jharkhand, the neighbouring state carved out of Bihar. Prior to this, he had worked in factories in distant states like Delhi and Maharashtra, but no more. “Unlike Delhi or Maharashtra, It is easy to reach home quickly from Patratu,” Srinath adds.

The sun is up as the bus slowly climbs the Adhaura hills tracing a winding road. All along the way, big trees in this tropical dry mixed deciduous and sal forests have dropped their yellowing leaves and are standing with skeleton-like branches. Within a few minutes of climbing the hills, the mobile network is gone; only the Bharat Sanchar Nigam Limited (BSNL) network now works here.

Srinath was not always a migrant.

He and his family, and in fact all Adivasis in Adhaura block, relied on tendu leaf collection, along with other minor forest produce, to sustain themselves. "We used to each earn at least 300 rupees a day. My parents, my brother, and I – we would all work together to pluck the leaves for a month and earn good money,” he says.

It all changed when Kaimur wildlife sanctuary was notified in the year 2000. A trader, who would get most of the tendu leaf plucking tenders, says about the loss of trees and hence access to leaves, “more than 80 per cent tendu trees went to the sanctuary.”

After 2000, the state’s forest department began strictly regulating the collection and sale of forest produce. “The creation of the sanctuary brought an end to the work of plucking tendu leaves," says Srinath. Adivasis of Adhaura who were hired by contractors to pluck leaves in June were suddenly out of a job. Their earnings of a rupee for plucking and making a bundle of 50 tendu leaves ended. Tendu leaves are primarily used in the manufacture of beedi (traditional hand-rolled tobacco cigarettes).

The Forest Rights Act, 2006 (Section 3(1)(c)) grants Scheduled Tribes the right of ownership, as well as the right to access, collect, use, and dispose of minor forest produce (MFP) that has been traditionally gathered either within or outside village boundaries. The FRA authorises the gram sabha (village council) to determine the rights of forest dwelling Scheduled Tribes.

In Adhaura, the FRA appears to have gone silent, devastating the livelihoods of thousands of people dependent on the forest.

“For six to seven months of the year, our livelihood depended on forest produce. We gather and sell items such as mahua, piyar, harre, and bahera etc. It was this income that paid for our medical treatment, allowed us to purchase cooking oil and spices, and enabled us to buy clothes,” says Sukau Singh Kharwar of Bahera village.

The 50-year-old Adivasi goes on to add: “After all, there isn't a single factory around here where we could go to find work.”

According to the Bihar Caste Survey 2022–2023, the total Adivasi population across 33 communities in Bihar stands at 21 lakh. In undivided Bihar, the Adivasi population was substantial, ensuring that their voices received adequate space. However, following the separation of Jharkhand from Bihar in the year 2000, their numbers within the state have declined significantly.

As tribals are numerically less in the state, the government hardly pays attention to them.

While in Jharkhand where their numbers are significant, the state government buys minor forest produce from tribals through the Jharkhand State Forest Development Corporation Ltd, a state public sector undertaking.

Additionally, the Jharkhand government has established Sido-Kanhu Agriculture and Forest Products Union in 2023 to brand as well as provide a market for minor forest produce. The Jharkhand government also ensures that tribals get a minimum support price (MSP) for forest produce, but such arrangements are not in place in Bihar.

Only two Assembly seats in the state are reserved for Adivasi communities, whereas not a single Lok Sabha seat is reserved for them.

Sukau Singh says, “When elections approach, promises are made that government outlets will be opened to sell forest produce; however, once the elections are over, everything is forgotten. No one gives a thought to the people of the hills.”

Kaimur wildlife sanctuary (WLS) is part of Vindhya Range, also known as the Kaimur range. The Vindhya range begins at Katangi in Madhya Pradesh and, passing through Kaimur, terminates at Sasaram in the Rohtas district.

The sanctuary is home to 40 kinds of trees, 45 kinds of shrubs and 110 types of herbs. It has 16 types of animals including tiger, leopard, wild boar, sambar, spotted deer, four-horned antelope and 100 types of birds.

The 1,500 square kilometre Kaimur wildlife sanctuary sustained the 100 Adivasi-dominated villages in Adhaura block. Locals say before 2000 and the announcement of the sanctuary, 90 per cent of tendu trees came from here. Tendu plucking stopped first. Next was forest produce and firewood.

Adivasi livelihoods continue to depend on the forest, but with the restrictions, they are afraid to sell in the open, and end up making a distress sale. Most wait for a weekly haat (market) at Barkatha, about 70 km from Bhabhua, the administrative headquarters of Kaimur district. The haat, which comes alive every Sunday on both sides of the road, sells everything from food to kitchen essentials, and 6-7 traders (all non Adivasi) come to buy forest produce like chironji, mahua and more.

Shahid Afridi, 28, is one such trader who visits the haat every weekend to buy forest produce. Earlier his father would buy forest produce. He says, “Adivasis are unable to take their produce to urban markets because they fear action by the forest department. They don't get a good price in the rural market.”

Afridi explains that the flow of forest produce has decreased compared to earlier times because of stricter regulations regarding forest produce. "Earlier, I used to take two carts of forest produce from this market. This time, I am only able to take one cart."

In 2022, Afridi's shop at Adhaura market was raided and quintals of mahua and other forest produce were confiscated. This has made traders fearful, dropping prices even further.

“They [forest officials] won't let us touch mahua trees. Now they don't even let us touch wood. If we go into the forest, they threaten us,” says Lal Bihari Oraon. A daily wage worker, he packs forest produce at Barkatha haat. “Adivasis have a right to the forest. If they don't let us touch it, the poor Adivasis will die. It is because of the forest that the Adivasis are happy."

Srinath says earlier one could go anywhere to sell – finding the best prices. “The situation is no longer what it used to be. We would load items like mahua, piyar [Pyrus pashia], harre [Terminalia chebula], and other produce onto trucks and transport them all the way to Sherghati in Gaya, as we could fetch a good price there.”

However, that practice has now ceased. Even trucks refuse to take forest produce for fear of getting pulled up.

“We are forced to sell our produce clandestinely. While the market rate for mahua stands at 80 rupees per kilo, we are compelled to sell it to local traders for less than 50 rupees per kilo. They won't even allow us to carry as little as five kilos of mahua on a bus,” Srinath adds.

In December 2025, 12-year-old Kair Singh Kharwar, a resident of Bahera village in Adhaura block took his 20 goats into the forest for grazing. He had carried an axe with him, for his safety against wild animals.

In the evening as he returned, officials arrived on the scene, slapped Kair Singh Kharwar twice and confiscated his axe.

Sukau Singh Kharwar, his uncle, says, “There were three or four other people with him who were also returning after grazing their goats; everyone’s tangi [axe] was confiscated; some were slapped twice, others were slapped four times.”

His family and village community felt deeply humiliated and helpless. Fear, anger and uncertainty is palpable across the Adivasi villages of Adhaura.

At Korwa Adivasi hamlet near Sarodag village, more than half a dozen middle-aged and elderly tribal women told PARI that the forest department’s restrictions are making their life difficult. Speaking in unison, they recounted how forest department officials have confiscated their axes on numerous occasions. A single axe costs 400 rupees, and is essential for firewood and protection.

Sukriti Korwa, 35, had her axe seized by the department. She says: “They accused us of cutting trees in the forest. But, if we don’t bring back firewood, how are we supposed to cook our meals?” Sukriti’s husband, Surendra Korwa, 45, is a migrant labourer. They have a son and a daughter; both attend the local government school. Korwa Adivasis in Bihar are a mere 1,357. They are a Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Group (PVTG).

“We should be granted the freedom to enter the forest and gather forest produce; that is all we ask of the government,” Sukriti told PARI.

Sanjeev Ranjan, the Divisional Forest Officer (DFO) of Kaimur, dismissed the allegations regarding strict enforcement by the Forest Department. “There are absolutely no restrictions on the collection of forest produce, nor are axes confiscated from the Adivasis. We merely prohibit them from felling trees in the forest.”

The Adhaura forest is in line to be upgraded to a tiger reserve – and the big cats have been spotted here. The National Tiger Conservation Authority (NTCA) has granted "in-principle" approval to this proposal as the number of tigers in the state has grown.

Valmiki tiger reserve (VTR) is currently the only park for tigers in Bihar state. Located in the Shivalik ranges of the Himalayas. VTR became part of Project Tiger in 1994 and the number of big cats has grown exponentially – from 10 in 2006 to 54 in 2022. Read: Tiger tiger everywhere

Another reserve means closing off forests vital to the survival of Adivasi and other forest dwellers. “If [more] tigers are introduced here, how will we be able to venture into the forest? Our entire way of life would be utterly devastated,” a distressed Sukau Singh tells PARI.

DFO Sanjeev Ranjan says the department is waiting “for the green signal from the Centre and then Kaimur WLS will be accorded the status of a tiger reserve.”

Sukriti Korwa is indignant that arrangements are being made to accommodate the animals, yet the government remains insensitive to the plight of the people who rely on the forest for their survival. "Provisions are being made for the habitation of tigers and monkeys, but the government gives no thought to us," she points out.

She fears that if a tiger reserve is established here, the lives of the Adivasi inhabitants will remain under constant threat. “We are people who live within the forest. If tigers are present here, they will simply devour us.”

The Adivasi communities view the forest department’s increasing strictness regarding access to the forest as a grave threat to their very existence.

As dusk begins to fall, and I bid farewell to Sukau Singh to begin my journey back, he tells PARI: “If the government takes away our forest, we will perish. We will not be able to survive.”

This story is published under the Takshila-PARI Senior Fellowship 2025.