Sabars in Jhargram: into the darkness

“What do we have to eat every day except panta bhat [fermented rice water]?" says Bato Mallick, grinding up red chillies and salt to make the rice more palatable.

It is evening, and Bato and her husband, Yogen Mallick have just returned from the nearby forest. The couple, like all other families in the tribal hamlet, spend their day in the jungle foraging for sal (Shorea robusta) leaves to sell in the weekly market.

Their home is in Benasuli village of West Bengal’s Jhargram district – a community of largely Sabar Adivasi (listed as Savar in West Bengal). This tribal community is among the poorest and most deprived citizens of the country, living on the edge with hunger and malnutrition.

I have been visiting this region for many years to document Sabar people. Labelled ‘criminal tribes’ by the British, they were denotified in 1952. Very few have land and they rely on the forest to subsist. Read: Hunger in the belly of the beast

Each time I return, I note that their condition has not improved, not in years, and not in decades. To satisfy their hunger, local alcohol brewed from mahua (Madhuca longifolia) is a substitute for food it brings on a feeling of fullness. In fact, with rampant and rising alcoholism in almost every household (local liquor is brewed almost everywhere), malnourishment and anaemia have come to stay.

Knowledge of the forests allows Sabar tribals to rely on seasonal bounty: fruits, roots, baby birds, snakes, frogs, snails, little fish and crabs, paddy from rat holes, small animals, honey and more. But India’s forests are becoming less dense – “from 2011 to 2021, 40,709.28 square kilometres of very dense forest (VDF) and moderately dense forest degraded to open forest” (State of India’s Forest Report 2023).

“The forest cover has become so sparse that encounters with elephants are now more frequent than ever; I'm at risk of losing my leg,” says Konda Bhokta, who suffered a brutal elephant attack in early 2026 while returning from the jungle with firewood.

With traditional foods now difficult to find, they are at the mercy of the public distribution system (PDS rations). Under the state Antyodaya Anna Yojana (AAY) ration card , eligible households in West Bengal get 15 kilos of rice and 20 kilos of wheat every month. But Ajit Kotal of Singdhui hamlet (near, a Sabar tribal, says, “we don't get all the rice we need from ration dealers. It's always less. We don't know why. We filed a complaint, but nothing happened.”

This reporter found that many families like Ajit’s receive far less than what they are entitled to.

Even those who do, can add little else. “The forest is depleted and so are our food sources,” says Ajit Bhuiya. “There have been many days where we survive on one meal only [rice gruel],” adds this Sabar tribal from Parasia village.

Bhamra Nayak lost his 15-year-old daughter Rupali Nayak last year (2025). “My girl had been having trouble with anaemia for a long time, almost since she was a child. I sometimes think my daughter could have fought it out if she had healthy meals,” the resident of Benasuli village told this reporter.

In his fifties, Nayak says his family survives on his income from selling sal leaves in the weekly haat (market). “People from Orissa came to buy them. We charge the buyer 60 rupees for a bundle of 1,000 leaves. I make 240 rupees if I sell four bundles in a week. That's about how much money most households here make.” With literacy at 40 per cent (2013 report) and overall poverty, Sabars are at the mercy of middlemen.

Daylight is ebbing as we talk. The chilly wind of January is making me shiver here in Singhdhui, but many homes do not have proper roofs. Sandhya Bhakta is cooking in the open, her pet parrot playing around her. “Boiled vegetables and rice for tonight,” she tells me when I ask what's for dinner.