Jaideep Hardikar

PARI Desk

Editor

large_01-IMG_20230711_163615-JH-Chandrapurs_cultivators-farming_in_fear.jpg

medium_01-IMG_20230711_163615-JH-Chandrapurs_cultivators-farming_in_fear.jpg

small_01-IMG_20230711_163615-JH-Chandrapurs_cultivators-farming_in_fear.jpg

thumbnail_01-IMG_20230711_163615-JH-Chandrapurs_cultivators-farming_in_fear.jpg

01-IMG_20230711_163615-JH-Chandrapurs_cultivators-farming_in_fear.jpg

Sudhir Kosare sits
awkwardly on a charpoy
to show his wounds – a deep gash in his right foot; a
nearly five centimetre long cut in the right thigh; a long, angry tear beneath
his right forearm that had to be stitched and bruises all over his body.

Seated in one of the two rooms of his dimly lit un-plastered house, he
is not only shaken to the core but also in considerable pain and not at ease.
His wife, mother, and brother are by his side. It’s pouring outside, bountiful
rains finally lashing this part after a long, irritating delay.

On the evening of July 2, 2023, Sudhir – a landless labourer belonging
to Lohar-Gadi (also known as Gadi Lohar and listed as Other Backward Caste in the state) – survived an attack by a hefty and ferocious wild
boar on a farm where he was at work. Badly injured in the attack, the slim but
muscular 30-year-old farm labourer says luckily his face and chest were
unharmed.

PARI is meeting him in his native Kawathi, a non-descript village tucked away in the
territorial forests in Saoli tehsil of Chandrapur district, on the
evening of July 8; he has just returned home after being discharged from
hospital.

He recalls how a fellow labourer manning a tractor on the farm heard his
cries for help and ran towards him, hurling stones at the boar, momentarily
ignoring his own safety.

The animal – most probably a female – attacked him with its
tusks as he lay fallen, his eyes facing the overcast sky, mortally terrified.
“It would move back and spring on me, digging its long tusks into me,” Sudhir
says, as his wife Darshana
murmurs in disbelief; she knows her husband has had a close shave with death.

The animal escaped into the nearby shrubs but
not before leaving him grievously injured.

The farm Sudhir was working on was wet from intermittent rain that day.
Sowing, delayed by over a fortnight, had finally begun. Sudhir’s task was to
line the bunds bordering the forest patch. For that he would earn Rs. 400, that
day; this work is one of the many jobs he does to make a living. He prefers to
wait for this than migrate to faraway places like other landless folk in the
area.

That night after the first aid at the Saoli government rural hospital,
Sudhir was shifted to the district hospital in Gadchiroli town, 30 kilometres away, where he was
stitched up and admitted for six days to aid recovery. 

Although Kawathi is in Chandrapur district, Gadchiroli city is closer to
him than Chandrapur city which is about 70 kilometres away. He’ll need to go to
the cottage (government) hospital in Saoli for the follow-up Rabipur injections – for
rabies and other protection and dress his wounds.

Sudhir’s experience of being attacked by a wild boar puts a whole new
meaning to risk in farming. Price volatilities, climatic aberrations and
several variables make farming amongst the most hazardous occupations. But here
in Chandrapur, and indeed across many regions around the protected and
non-protected forests of India, the realm of the tiller is a bloody
business.  

Wild animals are devouring crops, making farmers spend sleepless nights
to keep a vigil and adopt to bizarre ways to protect their crops, their only
way to earning an income. Read: <a href="https://ruralindiaonline.org/en/articles/its-a-new-kind-of-drought/">‘It’s a new kind of drought’</a>

Since August 2022, and earlier too, this
reporter has met and interviewed survivors of tiger, leopard and other wild
animal attacks, grievously injured men and women, farmers, or farm hands like
Sudhir. They live and work in the villages of Mul, Saoli, Sindewahi, Bramhapuri, Bhadrawati, Warora,
Chimur – forested tehsils around the protected Tadoba Andhari
Tiger Reserve (TATR) in Chandrapur district. Wild animal-man conflict,
especially by tigers has headlined news here for the last two decades.

Last year, 53 people died in tiger attacks in Chandrapur district alone,
30 of them in the Saoli and
Sindewahi belt, shows the district forest data collected by this reporter. That
figure makes it a simmering hotspot of man-tiger conflict. 

Injuries and fatalities apart, a reign of fear and terror has swept the
villages in the landscape of the TATR, both in the buffer zone and outside of
it. The consequences for farm operations are already visible – farmers are
giving up on rabi (winter crop) operations amidst fear of animals and
frustration that wild boars, or deer, or neelguy won’t leave anything to
be harvested.

Sudhir is fortunate to be alive – he was
attacked by a wild-boar, not a tiger. Read: <a href="https://ruralindiaonline.org/en/articles/in-kholdoda-a-night-watch-on-a-machan/">In
Kholdoda: A night watch on a machan</a>.

On a rainy afternoon in August 2022, while he was transplanting paddy on
a farm with other labourers, Bhavik
Zarkar, 20, got a call from his father’s friend Vasant Piparkhede. 

Piparkhede told Bhavik over phone that his father Bhaktada had been attacked by a tiger moments ago. Bhaktada died in the attack and his body was dragged by the wild cat into the forests. 

The 45-year-old victim and three of his friends had been working on a
farm on the edge of the forest when a tiger had suddenly sprung out of nowhere
and pounced upon him as he squatted on the ground, resting. The big cat sprung
from behind and held Bhaktada by the neck, perhaps mistaking a human for a
prey.

“We could do nothing other than watching the tiger drag our friend into
the shrubs,” recounts Piparkhede, still struck by the guilt of being a helpless
witness to the gory incident.

“We made a lot of noise,” says Sanjay Raut, the other labourer and witness to the
incident. “But the big tiger had already caught hold of Bhaktada.”

It could have easily been one of them instead,
both friends say.

The tiger had been on the prowl in the area, but they hadn’t anticipated
encountering the animal in their field. Bhaktada’s death was the village’s
first human fatality in a tiger attack – previously, the villagers have lost
cattle and sheep. People had died in Saoli and other surrounding tehsils
in the last two decades.

“I froze,” Bhavik recalls at his home in Hirapur village, not very far from Sudhir’s
village, his sister Ragini,
18, by his side. The news came out of the blue, and as a rude shock to him and
his family, he recounts, still dazed about the way his father met a tragic end.

The siblings manage the household now; their mother Latabai is not home when
PARI is visiting the household. “She’s not yet out of the trauma,” Ragini says.
“It is difficult to comprehend and come to terms with my father’s death in a
tiger attack,” she says.

Fear looms over the village and farmers say, “Even today, no one goes
out alone.”

A mix of tall teak and bamboo trees interspersed with paddy farms appear
like square and rectangular boxes due to the bunds that hold water in rains to
nurture paddy. This is among the most biodiversity-rich parts of Chandrapur
district.

Saoli and Sindewahi are to the south of the
Tadoba forests, which are bearing the fruits of tiger conservation. The numbers
of tigers recorded in TATR has gone up from 97 recorded in 2018 to 112 this
year, as mentioned in the 2022 Status of Tiger Co-predators report released by
the National Tiger Conservation Authority (NTCA) in 2023.

Many are outside protected areas (PAs), in the territorial forests that
are interspersed with human habitation. So, the number of wild cats spilling
out of the protected areas and roaming among dense human habitation is on the
increase. Attacks by tigers were most numerous in
forests and ﬁelds in the buﬀer zone and surrounding landscape, suggesting that
some tigers are moving out of the Reserve.

Most attacks occurred outside the PA in
the buffer zone and surrounding landscape; attacks were most numerous in
forest, followed by agricultural lands and degraded forest and clustered along
a north-eastern corridor that connects the reserve, the buffer zone, and
fragmented forests, according to a 2013 <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/259432715">study</a> done in the TATR landscape. 

The man-tiger conflict is the downside of the conservation boom, so much
so that in the recently concluded monsoon session of the state legislature in
Mumbai in July 2023, Maharashtra’s forest minister Sudhir Mungantiwar told the Legislative
Assembly in a reply to a calling attention motion. He said the government had
transported two grown-up tigers to the Nagzira tiger reserve in Gondia as part of a ‘tiger translocation’
experiment and is contemplating shifting more wild cats to the forests that
have room to accommodate them.

In the same reply, he said the government will increase the ex-gratia to
the victims, on the count of fatalities or injuries, or crop losses and cattle
kills in tiger attacks. The government has increased the ex-gratia in case of
human deaths from Rs. 20 lakh to Rs. 25 lakh. But it hasn’t increased the
compensation amount for crop damages and cattle deaths – which is a maximum of
Rs. 25,000 for crop losses and Rs, 50,000 for cattle deaths.

In the short term though, there seems no end to
the crisis.

“Carnivore attacks on humans have increased
sharply within the last two decades around the Tadoba-Andhari Tiger Reserve in
the central state of Maharashtra, India,” says a comprehensive study done in
the TATR landscape (outside the reserve in and around the buffer area).

The study conducted during 2005-11 “examined human and
ecological attributes of attacks by tigers and leopards on humans in and around
the Tadoba-Andhari Tiger Reserve to provide recommendations to prevent or
mitigate conflicts between people and large carnivores.” Tigers and leopards
were responsible for 78 per cent and 22 per cent of the 132 attacks,
respectively.

“Significantly more victims were attacked while
collecting minor forest products than during other activities,” the study said.
The probability of being attacked dropped the further away one was from forests
and villages. Human activities near the TATR need to be regulated and limited
as much as possible to reduce human mortality and other conflicts, the study
concluded and added that, increasing access to alternative fuel sources (for example biogas and solar) may reduce the pressure of
timber harvesting in protected areas.

The wide-ranging behaviour of dispersing carnivores
along with the low availability of wild prey in human-dominated landscapes
increases the probability of tigers becoming involved in conﬂict. 

The incidents in recent years however point to tiger
attacks occurring more on the farms when people are at work, not just in the
forests when they are collecting forest produce or grazing cattle. That the
wild animals, particularly herbivores, devour crops is a major headache for the
farmers in most parts of Chandrapur district, but in the areas close to TATR,
tiger and leopard attacks in the farms or forest fringes have assumed alarming
proportion with no relief in sight.

Traveling across the region throws up wild animal and
tiger attacks as the topmost concern of the people. In the long run, as
Pune-based wildlife biologist Dr. Milind
Watve
puts it, the issue has consequences for India’s conservation imperatives too.
If the locals turn antagonistic to the wildlife, as they naturally do, how can
wild animals outside the protected forests be safe!

The current crisis is not caused by one tiger; these
are multiple tigers accidentally attacking humans, mistaking them as preys. The
families losing their members in such attacks and those standing witness to the
incidents, live with an unending trauma.

Prashant Yelattiwar of
Chandli Bk. village
in Saoli tehsil, about 40 km from Hirapur is from one such family. On
December 15, 2022, his wife Swarupa
fell victim to an adult tiger as five other women from the village
watched in horror the wild cat pounce on her and drag her body into the forest.
This happened around 11 a.m. on December 15, 2022.

“It’s been six months that she’s gone,” says Yelattiwar speaking to us in 2023. “I can’t
figure out what happened.”

The Yelattiwars have just about an acre of land, and doubled up as farm
labourers. Swarupa and other women were busy picking cotton – cotton crop is
new to this predominantly paddy belt – on the farm of one of the villagers when
this incident happened. A tiger leaped on Swarupa on a farm near
the village and dragged her half a km down the forest patch. The villagers,
helped by the forest officials and guards, retrieved her mauled and listless
body a couple of hours after the gory incident. She became another victim in a
long list of tiger-fatalities in this part.

“We had to create a lot of noise to frighten away the
tiger, bang thalis and beat the drums,” says Vistari Allurwar, among the villages who
went to retrieve her body that day.

“We watched all of
that in horror,” says Suryakant
Maruti Padewar, a six-acre farmer neighbour of the Yellatiwars. The
fallout? “There’s lurking fear in the village,” he says.

Anger prevailed; villagers demanded that the forest
department capture or neutralise the problem tigers, and bring them relief, but
after a while, the protests died down.

Swarupa’s husband hasn’t had courage to go back to
work since her death. A tiger still frequents the precincts of this village, he
says.

“We sighted a tiger a week ago on my farm,” says Diddi Jaglu Baddamwar,
49, a farmer of seven acres. “We never went back to the farm for any work,” he
says in early July when sowing has just begun, following onset of good rains.
“After this incident, no one cultivated the rabi crops.”

Prashant got the compensation for his wife’s death – Rs.
20 lakh – but that won’t bring his wife back to life, he says. Swarupa left
behind a son and a daughter.

2023 is proving no different than 2022 – tiger attacks, wild animal
menace in the farms across the sprawling TATR landscape in Chandrapur district
continues.

A month ago (August 25, 2023), sexagenarian Laxmibai Kannake, a tribal woman farmer,
was the latest victim in a tiger attack. Her village, Tekadi, is on the fringe of the TATR in
Bhadrawati tehsil, close to the famous Moharli range, which is the main gate to enter
this majestic forest.

On the evening of that fateful day, she was
working in her farm, adjoining the backwaters of the Irai dam, along with her
daughter-in-law Sulochana.
Around 5:30 p.m., Sulochana sighted a tiger stalking Laxmibai from behind,
moving stealthily towards her through the wild grass. Before she could shout
and alarm her mother-in-law, the tiger had pounced on the old woman, held her
by her neck, and dragged her body into the dam waters. Sulochana managed to run
to safety and called more people to the field. Laxmibai’s body was retrieved
hours later from the water body.

The forest officials immediately released Rs. 50,000 for her funeral,
and a couple of days later, paid Rs. 25 lakh, in lieu of the increased
ex-gratia order, to the bereaved husband, Ramrao Kannake, 74, sensing the anger among the
villagers and possible public protests.

A battery of guards keeps a vigil in Tekadi, camera traps have been
installed to track the tiger’s movement, and villagers go in groups to work
their farms, as the village shivers in terror.

In the same tehsil (Bhadrawati), we meet 20-year-old Manoj Nilkanth Khere, an
undergraduate student in his second year, recuperating from a grievous injury
he sustained in a wild boar attack on the morning of September 1, 2023.

“I was overseeing weeding operations on my father’s farm,” says Manoj,
“when a boar came running from behind and hit me with its tusks.”

Lying on a cot at his maternal uncle Mangesh Asutkar’s house in village Pirli, also in Bhadrawati
tehsil, Manoj recounts the incident with vivid details. “It happened in
30 seconds,” he says.

The boar tore into his left thigh, now bandaged,
and bit into his left calf with such vengeance that his entire calf-muscle was
severed from his leg – doctors have told him he’ll need to undergo plastic
surgery to reconstruct his calf. Which means, his family must shell out a huge
amount on his treatment. “I am fortunate that I survived the attack,” he says.
No one else was injured.

Manoj is a well-built young man, the only son to his parents who are
farmers. Because his village Wadgaon
is remote and does not have public transport, his maternal uncle brought him to
Pirli, from where, going to the hospital in Bhadrawati town, 27 km away, is
easier.

On his smartphone he shows photos of his fresh injuries from that attack
that day; photos that reveal how bad his wounds were. 

The death of people and incapacitation apart, the
incidents severely affect farm operations, says Chintaman Balamwar, a social activist belonging to
the semi-pastoralist
Kurmar community (listed as Other Backward Caste in the state) in Chandli
village. “Farmers rarely cultivate rabi crops and labourers fear going to the
farms,” he says.

Wild animal raids and tiger movement affects
particularly the rabi sowings in many villages; night vigil has virtually
stopped, and people are afraid of leaving the village and traveling in the
evenings outside even in any emergency as they did earlier.

Meanwhile,
back in Kawathi, Sudhir’s mother Shashikalabai, an old farm hand in this village, knows how
close the shave with wild boar was for her son that fateful day.

“Aji majha porga vachla ji,” she tells me repeatedly in Marathi, thanking
the almighty. My boy escaped death that day, she is saying. “He is our
support.” Sudhir’s father is no more. He passed long ago. “What would have
happened,” the mother asks, “if it were a tiger, not a boar?”

Chandrapur’s cultivators: farming in fear

چندر پور: جنگلی جانوروں کے خوف کے سائے میں کھیتی

அச்சத்தில் விவசாயம் செய்யும் சந்திரபூர் உழவர்கள்

ਖੌਫ਼ ਦੇ ਸਾਏ ਹੇਠ ਖੇਤੀ ਕਰਦੇ ਚੰਦਰਪੁਰ ਦੇ ਕਾਸ਼ਤਕਾਰ

ଚନ୍ଦ୍ରପୁରର ଚାଷୀ: ଆତଙ୍କ ଘେରରେ ଚାଷବାସ

ഭയത്തിന്റെ നിഴലിൽ വിളവിറക്കുന്ന ചന്ദ്രാപൂരിലെ കർഷകർ

ಭಯದಲ್ಲಿಯೇ ಕೃಷಿ ಮಾಡುತ್ತಿರುವ ಚಂದ್ರಾಪುರದ ರೈತರು

डर के साए में जीने को मजबूर चंद्रपुर के किसान

ચંદ્રપુરના ખેડૂતો અને ડરની ખેતી

चंद्रपुर: दहशत मं खेती-किसानी

चंद्रपुर में खेती-किसानी खूनी पेशा काहे बन गइल बा?

বাঘের ভয়ে দিন গুজরান চন্দ্রপুরের ত্রস্ত চাষিদের

বাঘৰ ভয়ত দিন কটোৱা মহাৰাষ্ট্ৰৰ চন্দ্ৰপুৰৰ কৃষকসকলৰ দুখ-দুৰ্দশা

चंद्रपूरच्या कास्तकारांसाठी शेती म्हणजे भीती

Chandrapur

At present, we can only accept donations in Indian rupees by Indian citizens. All donations made to the CounterMedia Trust are eligible for exemption under Section 80G of the Income Tax Act, 1961. Here is a copy of our exemption certificate.


India is bigger than New Delhi. And people need to know more about the rest of this vast nation.


Younger, media-saturated generations are growing up knowing little about their country, but a lot about the elites of a few metros and towns. For a narrowly-owned, commercially-driven media, the dumbing down of a nation is part of standard operating procedure. The last available data of the Centre for Media Studies (CMS, Delhi) show us that reports from New Delhi account for 66 per cent of news on the front pages of major dailies. The CMS data also found that just about 0.24 per cent of front page news came out of rural India. The TV channels are not much better.PARI exists to change that.We are a non-profit organisation. We publish under creative commons, and do not charge readers a subscription fee or put-up advertisements. Nothing is behind a paywall and we are completely free-to-access by anyone. We guard our independence and receive no direct grants from governments and corporations, nor any funding that could dictate our content. So, we are dependent on volunteer labour, donations from individuals, foundations and institutions that see value in independent and free media.PARI is changing the way Indian journalism reports and documents the rural.India is more than the elite of a few metros and towns. We report on rural lives and livelihoods, languages, communities, migrants and more. We need your help to pull off this most ambitious of Indian journalistic endeavours. The scale of this effort costs money. Donate generously - and spread the word about PARI.&nbsp;

Donate FAQs


Let’s get you acquainted

Welcome to PARI

All our content is, and will forever be free to consume. If you enjoy our work, you can support us by becoming a volunteer or by donating to help fund our work.

Want to republish this article? Please write to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

IN TELUGU - Want to republish this article? Please write to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

Chandrapur’s cultivators: farming in fear

Related stories

A rain-scented walk in Sivagangai

Living on ravaged land

Biswas and the bamboos on his bike

Recycling energy, Godda style

Bhadels of Goa

Pookadai: still throbbing with morning life

Koli Kadlas

Malnourishment high among children of migrants: study

Wheels of the rural Indian West

Living Under a Red Cloud in Bellary

Vedla – earrings of the Maher community

Dreaming of water, drowning in debt

Kali: the dancer and his dreams

Farmer's diet worse than a convict's

In Yavatmal, life goes on

Suicides are about the living, not the dead

Death of a carpenter

Hoisa Shigmo!

Women farmers: weaving a life in Anantapur

Defiant in Dhinkia

Spice and all that's nice

Kerala's Green Army

The ‘jugaad’ not-a-mobile

Health as someone else's wealth

Calibrating in a Kudumbashree assembly unit