As the forests fall silent, the nation must confront these root causes head-on, channelling that enduring spirit into equitable reforms to prevent the ideology’s embers from reigniting in unforeseen, perhaps more volatile, ways.
Published Oct 31, 2025 | 2:00 PM ⚊ Updated Oct 31, 2025 | 2:00 PM
CPI (Maoist).
Synopsis: The internal purge within the Communist Party of India (Maoist), following a spate of surrenders, is increasingly seen as a “fresh coup” that could hasten the decline of one of the world’s longest-running Maoist movements.
In the shadowy expanse of India’s “Red Corridor,” a seismic shift is underway within the Communist Party of India (Maoist), the banned insurgent group that has waged a protracted armed struggle against the state for over five decades. The recent expulsion of high-profile leaders, branded as “traitors” and “counter-revolutionaries” in an October communique, has ignited debates among security experts and political analysts.
This internal purge, following a spate of surrenders, is increasingly seen as a watershed moment — a “fresh coup” that could hasten the decline of one of the world’s longest-running Maoist movements. As the Indian government pushes toward its ambitious target of a “Naxal-free” nation by 2026, these developments expose the fragility of an ideology rooted in aggressive revolutionary politics, now strained by generational transitions and relentless state pressure.
The purge targets figures like Mallojula Venugopal Rao, alias Sonu, and Takkallapalli Vasudeva Rao, known as Rupesh or Satish, both veterans who defected amid growing disillusionment. Sonu, the brother of slain Maoist leader Kishenji and a key operative with a substantial bounty, resigned in September after advocating for a ceasefire, arguing that the armed path had become untenable. His surrender on 14 October in Maharashtra’s Gadchiroli district, alongside some 60 cadres, was a body blow to the party’s morale.
Just days later, on 18 October, Rupesh followed suit in Chhattisgarh’s Jagdalpur, leading over 200 followers to lay down arms. The central committee’s response was swift and scathing, accusing them of violating democratic centralism by surrendering weapons to the “enemy” and succumbing to cowardice. It called on loyalists to administer “revolutionary justice,” a veiled threat that underscores the paranoia gripping the ranks.
This episode is not merely an internal spat but a symptom of deeper malaise. The year 2025 has been catastrophic for the CPI (Maoist), formed in 2004 from the merger of earlier leftist factions inspired by the 1967 Naxalbari uprising.
It began with the May neutralisation of general secretary Nambala Keshava Rao, alias Basavaraju, in a gruelling 50-hour operation in Chhattisgarh’s Narayanpur district.
Basavaraju, a septuagenarian linked to deadly ambushes like the 2019 Gadchiroli bombing, represented the old guard’s unyielding commitment to guerrilla warfare. His death, contested by the party as a staged encounter involving betrayal by informants, created a leadership vacuum that has since widened cracks in the organisation.
Subsequent operations piled on the pressure. In June, Gajarla Ravi, alias Uday, secretary of the Andhra-Odisha Border Special Zonal Committee, was killed near Kintukuru village in Andhra Pradesh, prompting human rights groups to demand magisterial inquiries into possible extrajudicial killings.
September saw the elimination of zonal commander Amit Hansda in Jharkhand’s Chaibasa district during a raid involving elite Commando Battalion for Resolute Action forces.
These encounters, enhanced by drone surveillance and expanded informant networks, have decimated the party’s command structure. Official data indicates over 850 surrenders in Chhattisgarh this year alone, lured by government rehabilitation schemes offering cash, jobs, and security.
The wave of defections extends beyond Sonu and Rupesh. Central Committee member Sujatha, alias Kalpana, surrendered in September to Telangana police, citing exhaustion from the post-Basavaraju disarray.
Internal documents from August reveal frantic attempts to adapt, advocating decentralisation into smaller, mobile units to dodge detection. Yet, these measures betray desperation: The party’s once-formidable presence in regions like Dandakaranya, a bastion since 2011, is eroding under sustained assaults.
At its core, this crisis reflects a generational impasse. The Maoist ethos, born from the Silent Generation’s radicalism in the 1960s — championing armed peasant uprisings against feudalism and state oppression — has been carried forward by Baby Boomers like Basavaraju.
As they exit the stage through death or age, Generation X leaders, born in the 1960s and 1970s amid India’s economic liberalisation, have inherited the mantle.
These cadres, like Sonu in his fifties, embody a pragmatic yet aggressive continuity, mimicking the ideological fervour of their predecessors while grappling with modern realities. Their “opting” for such roles stems from necessity, filling voids left by attrition, but it also highlights the movement’s failure to evolve.
Intriguingly, this aggression shows faint echoes of Gen Z’s digital activism, with some younger cadres experimenting with online propaganda to rally support.
However, recruitment among millennials and Gen Z remains abysmal. Shaped by urban migration, social media and economic opportunities, these generations view the jungle-based struggle as archaic and futile.
The harsh toll of protracted conflict — constant evasion, ideological rigidity, and personal sacrifices — holds little appeal in an India boasting rapid growth and digital connectivity.
Looking to the future, the survival of this aggressive ideology appears dim in the eras of Generation Alpha (born 2013-2025) and Beta (post-2025). Raised in a post-pandemic world dominated by AI, sustainability concerns, and mental health priorities, these cohorts are unlikely to embrace violent revolution.
Reports of dwindling cadre numbers, with the average age now hovering around 40-50, signal an impending demographic cliff. The purge, by amplifying distrust and exposing betrayals, may deter potential recruits further, turning internal loyalty tests into self-inflicted wounds.
For India, this turning point offers cautious optimism. Union Home Minister Amit Shah’s strategy of combining force with development, addressing tribal grievances through infrastructure and rights, could consolidate gains.
Yet, human rights advocates warn against complacency. Without tackling underlying issues like land displacement in mineral-rich areas and exploitation of Adivasi communities, resentment could fester, potentially morphing into new forms of unrest.
The CPI (Maoist)’s red banner, once a symbol of defiant aggression, now flutters precariously. This fresh coup may not spell immediate collapse, but it underscores that revolutionary zeal must not be suppressed if the grievances of the needy, hapless, and poor are to be genuinely redressed.
As the forests fall silent, the nation must confront these root causes head-on, channelling that enduring spirit into equitable reforms to prevent the ideology’s embers from reigniting in unforeseen, perhaps more volatile, ways.
The surrenders of high-profile cadres in Telangana also proved to be thought-provoking incidents, and their claim supporting the ideology above the ground is raising many eyebrows.
(Views are personal.)
