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Story by Vachaspati Upadhyaya.

Sadaf Modak

“I believe that you want the millions of India to be happy, and for that we have to consider only one thing: how can the millions obtain self-rule?”
~ Mahatma Gandhi

In his book Hind Swaraj, Mahatma Gandhi sought self-rule over any other form of governance for India. Many criticised the idea of entrusting power to a majority that was illiterate and a population which was divided and ultimately India adopted the parliamentary form.

Today, a hundred years later, some communities are proving just how practical the idea of self-rule can be. Designing their own patterns of self-sustenance outside what the political structure provides for, these communities have brought about a swaraj of their own: one not limited to the literate or the affluent but adopted by communities like the tribes of Central India or the slum inhabitants across the border in Pakistan.

The foremost example of self-governance comes from a village in Gadchiroli district of Maharashtra, Mendha (Lekha). With a forest area of 1800 hectares, it has a population not more than 450 people of the Gond tribe. Yet, they made it amply clear that representative democracy handed over to them by a political structure far removed from their own tribal customs would not work for them. “Before Independence, the nation was under the British rule, the tribes were not. Yet, the rules thereafter meant getting permission for every action undertaken in our own forest land which was termed as public property. We were of the opinion that the government should handle the papers of the forest land, while we look after the forest ourselves,” says Devaji Toffa, one of the prime members of the village who brought about a revival of tribal rights to forests.

Under law, the Forest Department was given the authority over forests with no local community involvement. The non-cooperation of the villagers with the Department on issues like harvesting timber and felling trees led to major tussles between the two. In 1989, the Mendha community formed a forest association called the Van Sanrakshan Samiti which held formal meetings to discuss their problems. It represented the whole village, two members – a male and a female – from each household. In 1996, the association was recognised under the Joint Forest Management. “At the centre, there is Delhi government, at the state level, there is Mumbai government, but we are our own government. Here, every decision is taken with everybody’s consent. Even if one member disagrees, the decision is put on hold. There has been no police or court cases against anybody here. We believe in swayam shasan (self-rule),” adds Toffa, who takes pride in the manner in which the village fought for its rights, unlike the violent means of the Naxals.

This model of forest rights was also undertaken by Saigata, a village in the Chandrapur district in Maharashtra with 88 households and 432 members mainly belonging to the Mahar caste and Gond tribe. The unsustainable use of forest commodities over the years by villagers and the Bramhapuri township close by almost led to the destruction of the forest in the 70’s. Before irreparable damage could be done to their own forest, the residents of Saigata got together and set up a Krishak Charcha Mandal.

The group initially worked towards better farming techniques and soon decided to restore 300 hectares of degraded forest around the village. The main aim of the group was to create awareness among fellow villagers against unsustainable forest harvesting and the ill-effects of forest degradation. Villagers collecting fuel wood, charcoal makers and households using forests for indiscriminate self-consumption were convinced about the gravity of the situation. The villagers, once successful in doing so through formal discussions and folk art and communication, also had to keep an eye out for outsiders exploiting the forests. Moreover, they worked towards improving the quality of their forests. They took charge of their forests rather than depending on outsiders to do so.

In 1993, the village joined the Joint Forest Management Program but continues to have its own institutional structure which is influential in the decisions taken by the forest association. Not only is the funding for community programs done by the village itself, each household gives a certain amount depending on the size of the land they hold. A penalty structure too is in place which increases the fine with each repetition. The last resort is to complain to the Forest Department, but the community never had to approach them for this.

Unlike the Mendha village, this group of villagers was not homogenous and lacked a common understanding. Yet both have adapted to modern laws and values without giving up their structures. Such a pattern of self-governance envisioned by Gandhi has been successful in its own way across the border in Pakistan as well.

The project by the Orangi Township in Karachi is an example of the power of local people in building their own infrastructure for themselves. The Orangi Township is Asia’s largest informal settlement extending over 10,000 acres and is home to an approximate 1.2 million people belonging to lower and lower-middle income groups. Like most slum localities, this one too was not regularised as per earlier laws and therefore had been given no provisions by the government in Pakistan.

The Orangi Pilot Project was then undertaken by social scientist Akhtar Hameed Khan in 1980. He organised meetings of families living in lanes that comprised 20-25 houses to develop a sewage and drainage system of their own. They reached an agreement where they appointed their own leader who was then trained for technical help. Plans were then made. The labour was provided for by the residents themselves who initially sought financial help from the government but soon developed their own funding system of not more than USD 30 per house.

The demonstration project undertaken by a few families was a success. To date, nearly 6000 lanes have developed their own sewer systems linked to sanitary power-flush latrines serving over 90,000 housing units, using their own funds (the equivalent of around USD 1.4 million) and under their own management.

Local labour used local materials and built extremely low cost underground sewers. The project was self-funded, self-maintained and self-administered. The main reason why low-income households could afford this is that the work cost one-sixth of what it would have cost if it had been undertaken by the state.

Once the project was successful, it expanded into other initiatives like basic health, improvement of local schools, and increase in participation of women in all forms of developmental work. This successful project has led to the government replicating it in eight cities and 49 other settlements and even in policies like the Rural Support Programme (RSP) where the community members work with representatives of government departments in decision-making.

Like the other two, this one too proves Gandhi’s idea prophesied a century ago right, even if unknowingly.

One of the initiators of the education of the Madia-Gond tribe in Maharashtra, Prakash Amte feels that due to education fewer tribals join Naxalism. “Education has brought about a change. The literate tribals do not usually join the Naxal movement,” says the Magsaysay Award-winning doctor whose project Lok Biradari Prakalp, begun by his father Baba Amte, has been running a school in the tribal-populated Hemalkasa for the last 35 years. “There were only 25 students in the first year in 1974. Today, there are more than 600 students”, he adds.

Two students from the first batch of 25 went on to become a policeman and a Naxal. Pandu and Juru were classmates who ended up on different sides of the law. Pandu, the policeman killed Juru in an anti-Naxal operation but was subsequently killed by a Naxal dalam seeking a revenge for Juru’s death. “There have been four Naxal students from this school since its inception. But for the past ten years, not one has joined the Naxal groups,” said Vilas Manohar, one of the initial few who came to Hemalkasa with Baba Amte to work for the tribals.

More than 38 per cent of the population in Gadchiroli district belongs to Scheduled Tribes. Most villages find themselves caught in the war between the police and the Naxals and many therefore send their children to resident schools such as these.
While the literacy rate of the state is above the national average, only 13 per cent of the Gond tribe is educated till the higher secondary level, with less than 2 per cent completing graduation.

In a bid to de-politicise and justify his stance for a separate Vidarbha, BJP leader Devendra Fadnavis has vowed that he would not participate in the first elections of a separate Vidarbha, if carved out.

“We are facing a crisis of credibility,” Fadnavis said about leaders in general. “People don’t trust their leaders any more, especially the youth. In order to restore the faith of the people in the motives of my party’s stand for a separate state of Vidarbha, I have decided that I shall not participate in the first government-making process, if a separate Vidarbha is granted. People should know that we believe in what we are fighting for rather than merely advocating it for poltical gains.”

Arguing that the issue of Vidarbha is not a political one, Fadnavis stresses its socio-economic character. “Vidarbha is not a Congress or BJP issue. I don’t want to politicise it by saying it belongs to a single party’s agenda. The formation of this state shouldn’t be on an emotional or electoral basis. We stand by it because it would ultimately benefit the economically and socially disadvantaged regions of eastern Maharasthra which are mostly tribal.”

Vidarbha, struggling with its lack of infrastructure and irrigation facilities, heavy load-shedding, unemployment and negligence of administration has been languishing due to poor rains and Naxal mischief.

Fadnavis added that unless people are actively involved with and informed about Vidarbha, it is unlikely gain popular support. “We must make people understand that it is as much their concern and responsibility as any political party’s. Our task is to spread awareness about how a separate Vidarbha would result in the inclusive development of the region. Unless they support and take up this cause, we cannot make headway,” Fadnavis said.

Reflecting colleague and BJP president Nitin Gadkari’s view on the matter of spreading awareness and making democratic issues like Vidarbha popular and participatory, Fadnavis advocates compulsory voting for all, not just across Vidarbha or Maharasthra but across the country. “If any change is to be seen in the status quo, voting must be an obligation and not just a privilege,” Fadnavis concluded. Gadkari had said earlier in the year that he wanted the Congress to introduce a bill to this effect in the Parliament.

Chandrasekhar Durlikar, a cotton-grower from Dorli, is resentful of visiting politicians who whistle-stop at Dorli during election time but otherwise turn a blind eye to their problems

As farmers in Vidarbha grapple with the aftermath of the worst drought year 2009, and demand for compensation, the farmers in Dorli, Wardha are strictly disenchanted with the promises of the government and the VIP politicking. Government incompetence has led them to completely lose faith in the governance, including even the pre-electoral sops promised to them.

Irate farmers claim that Gopinath Munde who had promised power supply and full loan waivers to the indebted farmers while canvassing in Wardha before the Lok Sabha elections last year, didnt make his promise good. Nor did any of the previous visits by political big shots like Rahul Gandhi and Vilas Rao Deshmukh (2005). “They do not know cotton from soyabean. And they claim they will turn our fortune around. They simply come, tour the place and go back,” says Chandrasekhar Durlikar, cotton grower from Dorli. The village wells have dried up and irrigation is nowhere to rescue these largely rain-fed farms.

Before the last elections, in 2004, the government promised the farmers Rs. 2500 as compensation which included the minimum support price as well as additional price. The sop came as the era of Monopoly Cotton Procurement Scheme ended in 2004. But the government stopped giving the additional price. It decided to let market forces come into play for rate appreciation of cotton crop which later became a flashpoint between farmers and the government.“To win our votes, they come and lure us with the promise of water. It is part of their public image building and political gimmickry. The moment they turn their back, they forget about it,” Durlikar says, adding that to show their anger, the villagers do not offer water to any visiting politician as part of their protest.

Inaction has led many to turn cynical about not just the politicians’ visit but with the reportage of journalists and farmers’ groups too. “People come and report about our problems but why do we not see any change? Farmer’s organisations like Sharad Joshi’s Shetkari Sanghatana have remained too obsessed with their political goals to do something substantial for farmers,” another farmer Vijay Narlikar says.

The promised water, power and compensations have not yet been delivered. The erratic rains do not help any. Farmers claim that the cheaper non-Bt seeds are not easily available anymore as Bt has swept the market. An example of diversion of funds was pointed out by a farmer, “The government has spent crores of rupees planting teak trees here and they have all died or dried up,” the farmers point out.

Dorli has a population of 300-odd people who own 600 acres of farm land. But this year none of the farmers received over 50 kg of yield per acre but five years back when the rains were good, they produced double that amount. The farmers claim that loan waivers would not solve their problems. Irrigation facilities would. But nobody seems to bother. Since liberalisation, the farmers are left to compete not just with each other and the richer, well-irrigated western belt of Maharasthra, but also cotton produce from Europe and the US.

Dorli, however, has not seen any farmer suicides. The farmers are holding their own. “We aren’t the kind to give up and commit suicide,” Durlikar says, even as he sees no hope in the administration or delivery process.

When Rainu Sadmek became part of the Naxalite movement, he hadn’t thought what the consequences would be, or the conclusion. Spurred on by revolutionary literature, he set to rebel against an ‘incompetent’ government by way of Naxalite anarchy. “I had a passionate idea that by joining the Naxal movement, I was servicing the people who had been betrayed by the government. I was young and wet behind the ears,” Rainu admits.

Originally of the Gond tribe, one of the prominent tribes in Gadchiroli, a district in the eastern region of Maharasthra notorious for poor development and Naxal trouble, Rainu is fluent in Telugu as well.
His stay at his uncle’s school in Hindewada near Lahiri in the southern region of Gadchiroli was the first occasion when he came under Naxalite influence. He was in seventh standard then, about 14. The Naxalites had come to his school and told him about their work, their ideology, their purpose and procedures. “I was very impressionable. I was also very scared. They part persuaded and part pushed me into joining the camp.” That was how Rainu came to join the Balana camp near Bhamragarh in southern Gadchiroli.

Since he showed the qualities that would make a good entry-level commander in the ranks, he was appointed to be one. “They usually look for someone who is organised, decisive, can effectively co-ordinate with the other dalams (cadres), authoritative and firm. They thought I provided a good choice. I started off doing routine chores in the cadres. But the party leaders thought I was dependable, so they started involving me in bigger operations,” Rainu says.

Around this time, trouble had begun to set in. For his family, more than him. Born in a family of seven siblings – six brothers, Rainu being the fourth one, and a sister – the pressure from his family to sever his Maoist ties and return home was immense. “My father was ashamed for me. They would tell me now and then when they could contact me to surrender. But I believed in what I was doing.”

The shame that Rainu’s father, Lalsai felt, escalated as the village inhabitants attributed Maoist motives to the entire family. Rainu’s Naxalism was deduced to reflect upon the family’s loyalties too. “People thought my entire family was involved with me.” The most vulnerable to such a misplaced inference turned out to be Rainu’s father, his disquiet the most ghastly of consequences for Rainu, issuing from a choice he had made six years earlier. “He was mortified that the family was now tainted as a Naxal family. The villagers shunned them. The police suspected them. They would raid the house regularly and threaten my father.” Lalsai was jailed for two years. One of rainu’s brothers was similarly harrassed and booked under TADA. “They would accuse and abuse the family. My father was exhausted. He wanted out,” Rainu says.

So he charred himself to death. The social ostracism and vilification led the patriarch to douse himself in kerosene fire one night not long after he was released from jail. That, however did not put an end to the stigma so resolutely placed upon the family by people and police.

His father’s suicide stunned him, though not enough to convince Rainu, young and headstrong still, of reconsidering his course. Nor did the persuasions and admonishments of his family, specially one of his elder brothers’, who worked in the police department.

He shifted base to Chhatisgarh thereon, a hotbed of Naxal operations. He was stationed to the backward Abujmadh initially. “Here, I networked with the villagers, learned their language, endeared our cause by telling them it served their purposes. It was for their rights that people like me had take to rebellion, taken up arms.” Personally, Rainu didn’t have much of a life. His life was reduced to the basics, except the incongruous element of a rebel on the move: eating boiled rice with bamboo curry, a staple in these insulated areas, keeping track of informers, having to constantly watch his back, indoctrinating people and being indoctrinated with the Naxal ideology. Thereon, he was sent for rigorous operations and training in Bastar, again in Chattisgarh.

He had revealed in a prior interview to Indian Express, “We had a Filipino man come down to train us in 2001. LTTE men have come twice for the same purpose. They instructed us in defense and offense tactics, like laying mines and grenades. Others from the party taught us weaponry handling, like AKs, SLRs etc. way before that.”

With every change in base, came a promotion. His training and efficiency led him to climb the ranks. After two years as a deputy commander of his platoon (a platoon has three regional sections under its wing), he became the section Division Commander, supervising six to seven dalams. At this stage, his operational objective involved seizing weapons and attacking and foiling police plans. “The funds for these operations come from tendu and bamboo tradesmen, and from certain tribals, from various villages,” Rainu says. “I never remitted any of this money back home,” Rainu says, adding how there was a total severance of any family ties he may have had.

But he found some respite while stationed at Etapalli in Gadchiroli when he met and married Bharati Ported. Bharati, who is from Arapalli, ran away from home to become a Naxalite. “It was in the dalam that Bharati learned to read and write their language. She didn’t know anything before,” Rainu says.
But they had to part ways after ten years of operating out of the same village as Rainu. After that came Rainu’s break in the struggle: a three-hour long cross-fire that ensued between the police and dalam members. Jharwada in Jamiagatta village where the dalam members gheraoed the police. Each side suffered a casualty.

He claims he was also at the forefront of the face-off that took place in Kumarguda near Bhamragarh in Gadchiroli between the police and Naxals in 2003.

It was here that Rainu began to have grave doubts of the Naxal motives and achievements. “I began to deliberate over the hierarchical grid that dalams were formulated into. Since Naxalite ideology should have no place for a ranked order, I began seeing through their hypocrisy.” And questioning them. This wasn’t looked upon very kindly, nor was it condoned. “I asked a CPI(Maoist) leader about the inequality between the various cadres and the prevalence of Andhra leaders in the top rungs, but they didn’t give a conclusive reply,” Rainu says. “I also suggested to the party leaders to allow some of the government projects to be built. Roads and dams that were actually beneficial for the tribals. But the party top brass disagreed,” Rainu says.
They found him uppity and didn’t take kindly to his prodding and suggestions. They began doubting him to be a police informer, and blamed the failure of party operations on him.
“A lot of us began facing unjustified discrimination. Toward the end of my operations, the party leaders were paranoid with suspicion. They started killing innocents, doubting them for informers. Members like me were in a bind as even the police would suspect us. There was enmity and mistrust within the party cadres” Rainu says.

For his part, Rainu saw that the Naxal ideals were far from being accomplished. “The illusive hope of a Naxal takeover, that would bring about development and emancipation of the tribals, remained just that, an illusion. Now, I am totally convinced that working against the state, adopting a destructive strategy, and thwarting government-backed growth will not achieve any good for the tribals. That is why I decided to surrender,” Rainu says.

The government had instituted the surrender policy in 2005. “It was good news for a lot of us disabused Naxals. We were being given an option, a way out. In exchange for co-operation and information, we were given protection,” Rainu says.

Rainu, along with his wife started considering surrender as a serious option after his brother, who was a police worker, and a cousin of his, also in the police, convinced him of the futility of Naxal operations. “Though it had been on our mind for quite some time by then. We were looking for proper guidance and assurance,” Rainu says.

Bharati’s disillusionment with the promises of restoration of rights of tribals made by the Naxal leaders had already started to snowball early on in the decade and led to her surrender in 2007. This made things even more difficult for Rainu. He became an easy target for the party that continually accused him of being a government sympathizer. Things reached a head till Rainu, after 22 years of life as a Naxalite, decided to lay down arms as well. In June 2009, two years after his wife, Rainu Sadmek surrendered.

The surrender had cost him the life of his father and estrangement from his family, but he believes he has at least gotten back on the straight and narrow now.

“Of course, the danger to my life from Naxalites is there. But I had to do it. Their ideology, the reason I sided with them to begin with, had become corrupted. Surrender seemed to be the right way out,” Rainu says, adding, “Now I am looking forward to a normal life.”

In a bid to minimise man-animal conflicts, the people of Moharli, 20 km to the south of Tadoba in Chandrapur district of Maharashtra, have increased community participation in forest management, trying to find the balance between man and beast.

With 15 villages within the protected area and more than 50 in the periphery, Tadoba has seen a high number of man-animal casualties in the past five years. The pressure of increasing population, mining and forest gathering activities and illegal encroachment have lead to the fragmentation and loss of tiger habitat and a shrinking prey base, creating a 5000 sq km conflict zone around Tadoba. The fact that most villagers are unaware and uninformed in the ways of dealing with this crisis doesn’t help either.

Initiated by an NGO called Tiger Research and Conservation Team or TRACT, a team of villagers are trained to conduct joint patrols morning and night with the state forest department guards. Apart from being trained in modern methods such as the use of camera traps and compasses to ascertain animal presence, the people are sensitised to conservation issues and forest safety rules and regulations. Tapping local potential, the team also uses the villagers’ knowledge of forested areas to curb poaching activities.

Deve Jambde, one of the village guards, left his job dealing with scrap metals to join the initiative. “It feels good to come back to the village, I know enough about monitoring the forest now and will take the government exam next year to try becoming an official forest guard,” says Jambde. For him and many other local boys, the chances of securing a government job through the community awareness programme is now a reality.

With the recognition of the Forest Rights Act in 2006, man-animal conflicts have been on a rise around sanctuaries, national parks and tiger reserves. If successful, this will prove to be a ready-made model of community involvement, which, through government aid, can be replicated in conflict zones across India and help restore the balance between forest communities and our endangered national animal.

Sadaf Modak

Shiv Sena held a meeting on February 5, Friday to discuss the issue of separate Vidarbha and continue its stance for a united Maharashtra. The senior party members present at the meeting plan to conduct a mass campaign headed by party president Uddhav Thackeray. The party plans to organise discussions to create awareness about how a separate state would be economically unviable for the region. Also, the party plans to press for development in Vidarbha by demanding more allocations from the government.

Meanwhile, Shiv Sena’s ally in Maharashtra, the Bhartiya Janata Party has begun a rath yatra in a few districts of the Vidarbha region to create awareness for a separate statehood. “Vidarbha has the best of raw materials in the state, the best soil in India, yet the development of this region is low. It needs a better administration and more budget allocation from the Centre which may not happen within a united Maharashtra because development in places like Mumbai evens out the extremes of western and eastern Maharashtra,” said Devendra Fadnvis, BJP MLA from Nagpur.

The conflicting stand of both the parties on the issue may even lead to serious differences. “It is not a political issue, but a socio-economic one. Due to differences on this issue, the BJP-Shiv Sena alliance may break,” said Fadnavis, a confidante of Nitin Gadakari, national president of the BJP, who is also from Nagpur and supports the cause for a separate Vidarbha.

While the Congress has not shown either support for or opposition to the issue, for the farmers of the region, the cause is a non-issue. “It doesn’t matter which political party is in power or whether we have a state of our own. Our real issues never get addressed,” said Chandrashekhar Dorlikar, a farmer from Dorli in Wardha district.

Deepshikha Chauhan

Emerging as a hot seat of coveted political ambitions, Vidarbha, with its long-standing demand of independent statehood, has become a political battleground.
“Leaders’ credibility is decreasing as people are cautious,” said Devendra Fadnavis, BJP MLA from South West Nagpur. Calling it a socio-economic movement, he denies political ambitions (behind a pro-Vidarbha stand) and
confirms exclusion from political benefits for the first year in future realization of the demand.

Congress spokesperson Anant Gadgil brands BJP’s stance as a political gimmick. When asked about Vidarbha’s economic backwardness in spite of its being a Congress bastion in Mahrashtra, he claimed effective measures have been undertaken to empower tribals and farmers through national rural health schemes and strengthen gram panchayats to demand funds for overall development in villages. “The process will take time. We don’t have a magic wand to transform things overnight,” he said.

The issue has cause a split between the strong BJP-Shiv Sena alliance for the latter opposes a divided Maharashtra, citing that 105 martyrs have given their life for a united Maharasthra, under the cause of Samyukta Maharashtyra Andolan which was headed by the late Keshav Sitaram Thackeray, otherwise known as Prabhodhankar Thackeray, Shiv Sena Supremo Bal Thackeray’s father.

“The centre-state revenue sharing formula given by the 13th Finance Commission can make separate Vidarbha a much more vibrant economy while allowing Maharashtra to have as much as it is getting now as a tax generator, for the fund allocation will give 47.5% weightage to the income-distant, 25% to population and 15% to taxes generated,” said Devendra Fadnavis. He also said, “Under the the income-distant method, the lowest GDP areas will get more, thus benefiting Vidarbha, as currently it is Mumbai that offsets the backwardness in Gadchiroli.”
But the BJP’S socio-economic support model for separate Vidarbha is totally opposed by the Shiv Sena which has recently formed the Akhand Maharashtra Parishad with a three-fold strategy discussed in a recent meeting of Feb 5, 2010. The organisation will conduct a series of lectures in different regions of Vidarbha by experts on socio-economic and political issues. The lectures aim to convince people of the economic viability of a separate Vidarbha. The organisation will also release a book for the same with a mass campaign under the leadership of Uddhav Thackeray to deeply root the party profile in the entire Vidarbha region.

Though conceived as a socio-economic movement, the issue of a separate Vidarbha is totally political in nature. What remains to be seen is that who gets a green signal from the people of Vidarbha – Congress, BJP or Shiv Sena.

Deepshikha Chauhan

As India grapples with a high infant mortality rate of 57 per cent, accounting for over a quarter of annual global newborn deaths (about1 million per year), inclusion of Home Based Neonatal Care (HBNC) model in the 11th Five Year Plan is a positive step toward reducing infant mortality rate to 26 per cent in Gadchiroli, a rural district of Maharashtra. The model was introduced by Drs Abhay and Rani Bang in the district through their grassroots health organisation Society for Education, Action and Research in Community Health (SEARCH). The organisation through its intervention-oriented study trained village women to evaluate babies around the time of their birth, teaching and delivering essential medical care to those in need of care during the first month of their life .

The field trial of the HBNC model was initiated after a baseline parity between intervention and control areas was established after a two year period of baseline measurement. HBNC was then directly introduced in selected thirty-nine intervention villages in Gadchiroli between 1995-1998. Control areas were used for demographic surveillance of child mortality rates and represented the situation of rural areas in the rest of India as they were selected from the areas served by government health care.

The Bangs were criticized for not being able to convince the affluent class of the usefulness of conducting research on illiterate poor. Since neonatal bacterial infections could be treated with antibiotics, the study was considered as an attempt to show that trained village health care workers could effectively diagnose and treat babies. It violated Declaration of Helsinki as the control villages were not provided with highest standard of health care for the purpose of comparison .
But since there was no rhetorical force in the argument in the light of empirical evidence collected at the end of three years in 1998, a reduction of 76 per cent in neonatal mortality rate proved the utility of educating tribal women in Gadchilori, as it was determined that neonatal deaths were due to unattended deliveries and septic infections in tribals who could not afford medical facilities, being below poverty line..
This prompted the doctor couple to train village women, enabling them in basic health care methods. Dr Abhay Bang said, “We decided to listen to the patients and that taught us a lot.” It helped them get closer to people and find health solutions within their reach.

About 70 percent of deaths according to the baseline survey done before the introduction of HNBC in intervention villages occurred in the neonatal period (between 0-28 days of birth) due to pneumonia, asphyxia and sepsis. The intervention programme not only included rudimentary inexpensive techniques like stitched infant sleeping bags (a substitute for neonatal care units in hospitals) and a breath counter to check the respiratory rate, it also trained village health workers in their use.

Training women with no health background was difficult but it worked miracles. After being trained in basic health care, even the illiterate midwives were able to measure respiratory rate and diagnose pneumonia using a simple breath counter improvised from a simple abacus by Dr Abhay Bang.
“Stitched infant sleeping bags became an effective substitute for it was affordable at a cost of Rs 3oo per child saved, compared to neonatal care units which cost between Rs 2000 to 10,000,” said Dr Bang.

As the successful adoption of HNBC in Gadchiroli has reduced infant mortality rates to 26 per 1000 live births and the neonatal mortality rate to 15 per 1000 live births over a period of 11 years since 1998. Introduction of HNBC in the 11th Five Year Plan comes at the right time for India still ranks 134th amongst 182 countries in the world according to 2009 United Nations Development Programme report.