- Puvarti was once the most secure stronghold of Maoist commander Madvi Hidma
- The village recently got electricity and infrastructure like a water tank and anganwadi
- Security forces now have a joint camp in Puvarti, with the tricolour hoisted two years ago
The road to Puvarti does not begin like a story of change. Rather, it brings back a memory of fear.
From Sukma, as you move nearly 120 km into the dense interiors towards the Jagargunda belt, the forest thickens, the road thins, and silence starts speaking. This was once the most secure stronghold of Maoist commander Madvi Hidma, a place where entry wasn't just difficult; it was forbidden.
Once inside, it feels almost unreal today.
In Hidma's village, there is Doraemon and Chhota Bheem. And they are not on television screens but painted on the walls of a newly built anganwadi. Just two years ago, electricity reached Puvarti for the first time. Today, there is a water tank standing tall, an anganwadi, and signs of a road trying to cut through years of isolation.
This is the same village that once produced not just Hidma, the Central Committee member and Battalion 1 chief but also Deva Barse, another top Maoist commander. And one would hardly believe that once, even stepping in without Maoist approval was impossible here.
A few kilometers before Puvarti lies Tekalgudam -- the site of the 2021 ambush led by Hidma, where 23 soldiers lost their lives. The shadow of that attack still lingers in the forest.
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And yet Puvarti today is not the same. CRPF, DRG, STF, and CoBRA forces now have a joint camp here.
Two years ago, for the first time, the tricolour was hoisted in this village.
But the story of change is not just in infrastructure. It is in the people.
As our team entered the village, most young men ran away, reflecting a fear that lingers still, though in a new shape. Some signalled they only speak Gondi as communication remained a barrier.
One local, Mandavi Deva, spoke in broken Hindi.
"Earlier, we were afraid of both sides: Naxals and police. When the police came, we ran away. If children went to school, Naxals would threaten us and say they will become police informers. We just stayed inside our homes," recounted Deva.
It wasn't just conflict. It was a life trapped between suspicion and survival.
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In one corner of the village, inside a small home, Madvi Nandki was quietly drying mahua flowers and tamarind in her courtyard. She did not say much but it felt as if, like the golden mahua blossoms in her hands, the village too had slowly begun to smile again.
Today, she said, things are changing. Slowly.
We also met Seenu, who is in Class 1. He is Hidma's nephew. He didn't say much. But his few words felt like a quiet statement of a new era. "There is electricity, water tank, and Anganwadi. More good things will come."
There was once a memorial in the village built for Hidma's family members. It has been taken down after security forces established their camp.
Even those who have worked in Bastar for years say they had never reached Puvarti before. Not for journalists too. Even during protests in Silger, despite repeated attempts, Maoists never permitted entry into Puvarti.
That level of control strikes a major contrast to how the village is cautiously opening up today. But this is not a simple story of transformation. Because even as Doraemon and Chhota Bheem smile from the walls, the forest around still remembers. Puvarti is not just changing it is negotiating with its past.
And as Bastar moves towards the end of Naxalism, this village stands as a powerful and uneasy reminder that it is not just about ending violence but about what comes after it.
