Globalisation demands that people speak, count, remember, live and die
in forms expressible in first world languages and databases. Though
the furious drive towards standardization of knowledge and modes of expression
seems irresistible, tribal communities (adivasis) of Narmada Bachao Andolan
(Save Narmada Movement) in Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh, and Maharashtra, struggle
against this at the intellectual, social and cultural levels. Their ways
of knowing – be it geography, health, demography, mathematics, economics
or history – are essential tools for their survival.
“Don't talk like illiterates!” thundered Justice Kurdukar when asked
about the responsibility of Maharashtra government towards displaced villagers
of Maharashtra being relocated to Gujarat. As the newly appointed
Grievance Redressal Authority for rehabilitation of Sardar Sarovar Project
(SSP) oustees in Maharashtra, he was, at the behest of the Supreme Court
of India, making his first visit to the villages. Gujarat, whose Grievance
Redressal Authority began work in May 1999, had already declined to consider
the grievances of oustees from other states. Some of these villagers
who came to meet Kurdukar in Kevadia Colony (in Gujarat) on the night of
7 August had accepted resettlement in Gujarat only on paper. Once
again it seemed that government records took priority over ground reality
as to where and how people were living. A tribal person who does
not defer to these records is called an illiterate ... what do you call
a judge who disregards the people in favour of the records?
More lethal than nuclear bombs are the weapons globalization has
produced for gaining control of people – not only their markets or their
labour power, but their power to know and judge. The potential of
global trade agreements to dishonor nations has been clearly revealed in
recent cases like Ethyl Corporation vs. Canada. The Canadian government
lost. A more dangerous signal than the repeal of the ban on MMT – the chemical
produced by Ethyl – or the $18 million “fine” that the government paid
to the corporation was the public apology that Prime Minister Chretien issued
for ever saying a word against MMT. Global trade agreements, like
strains of the AIDS virus, are ever more subtly assailing people and their
institutions of free expression. Recent mass protests against globalization
have focussed on its political and economic aspects, particularly objecting
to the erosion of democracy in favour of rules imposed by multinational
trade and finance interests. Less grasped is the urgent need to resist
its intellectual repression. Granting private, multinational corporations
a status on par with democratically elected governments pushes the use
of International Standards for fact finding and dispute resolution in international
languages. People not conversant with such languages and technologies
of information – which is the vast majority of the world’s people – find
that they must struggle to validate their own lives in their own terms.
Living in the mountains and plains of the Narmada river valley,
stretching for 1300 km through Madhya Pradesh, Gujarat, and Maharashtra,
the natural resource based communities including tribal people also known
as adivasis have, since 1985, mounted a tenacious struggle against
displacement, state repression, and the destruction of natural resources
resulting from the Narmada Valley Development Projects. The projects
comprise 30 large dams, 133 medium size dams, and 3000 small dams, along
with 75,000 km of canal networks to direct the waters of the Narmada River
to wherever the state decrees. The project plan appeared in 1979 after
10 years of deliberations of the Narmada Water Disputes Tribunal.
Sardar Sarovar, the last dam before the Arabian Sea, is a kingpin of the
project. The people living in its “submergence zone” got the first
hint when surveyors arrived in their villages in 1985 (the year the World
Bank agreed to finance the project, but before the Government of India
gave clearance for it). After three years of village level organizing,
seeking information on the extent of displacement and the plans for rehabilitation,
the people decided to oppose the displacement and question the projects’
claim to “public purpose.”
A case filed in the Supreme Court of India in 1994 resulted in
a stay on construction pending answers to fundamental questions regarding
environmental and social impacts of the project, as well as demonstration
that the government could implement plans to alleviate or compensate for
these impacts. The case was disposed on 18 October 2000 in a 2-1
majority judgment giving the government permission to complete the dam
as originally planned, no questions, no conditions. The dissenting
judgment, written by the only judge who heard the case from the beginning,
calls for an immediate halt pending Environmental Clearance and prior demonstrable
plans for rehabilitation at every 5 metre increment. The villagers
see no "finality" in the Supreme Court Majority judgment, as their problems
remain unresolved. They have called it “capital punishment."
And so the Narmada Bachao Andolan (Movement to Save the Narmada), the
first people to evict the World Bank, must fight not only for rights over
economy, environment, and livelihood, but also for personhood, for humanity
itself 1. Holding firm to the policy
of “Amra gaon ma amra raj” (our rule in our village) the villagers resist
state collusion with globalisation through their own institutions of survival.
To make such legislation as the Tribal Self Rule Act2
meaningful, tribals, especially those confronting unjust displacement,
must continuously evolve their own systems to resist imposition of globally
standardized agriculture, health, education, vocation, and other products
of development fundamentalism. To assert that the villagers’ own
ways of conceiving their life’s aspirations can be implemented in their
own structures – for example, to run a primary school in a language other
than one of India’s official languages, taught by people not recognized
as “teachers” by the government administration – is at the heart
of the resistance movements. A frightening feature of globalisation is
the thrust to measure progress and development according to universal indices,
to represent all human experiences in standardized formats that presume
literacy and computation.
The August encounter in Kevadia was not the first time people
have faced a struggle just to have their presence counted, their voices
heard over the barrage of papers. In February 1999, the Supreme Court’s
interim order permitted the Gujarat government to raise the height of SSP
dam from 80 to 88m, bringing 55 villages under partial or total submergence.
Of what use was this incremental height increase when the benefits of the
dam begin only at the 110m level? The counsel for Gujarat called
for a “signal” from the Court that the project was on. Only then,
he explained, would foreign investment flow into the state. Representatives
of the 33 affected villages of Maharashtra, all in Nandurbar District,
met the Collector demanding to see the land that the state of Maharashtra
had declared in its Supreme Court affidavit as available for resettlement.
What was on the affidavits and maps was not there on the ground.
On paper the same land can be declared as available for any number of families.
Such wonders of literacy are what the Bhil and Bhilala villagers
found out on 17 March 1999, when after two nights and three days outside
the Collector’s office the people went in truckloads, accompanied by the
Deputy Collector, to see the only resettlement site which the office was
prepared to show. There they were met by hundreds of women and men
already allotted this site. Officials unrolled maps and it soon became
clear that wherever the office recorded vacant land, people were cultivating.
The government had yet to issue the land titles. At last Deputy Collector
Vasave, took the people into confidence. “I am also a tribal, affected
by the Ukai project, so I will tell you the truth. We have stated
in our affidavit that we have 285 hectares. As you can see there
are prior claims on this and only after we settle these can we inform you
how much land we actually have.” At once the people cheered, “Adivasi
ekta Zindabad!” Long live Adivasi Unity.
Unity has served the villagers well in confronting the all too
familiar tactic of allotting multiple families, even multiple villages
the same plot of land and setting the poor and dispossessed against one
another. The people refuse to be divided or intimidated by the numbers
thrown at them. “Ham sab ek hain!” (We are one) they declare.
Such declarations were prohibited by Justice G. G. Sohoni, the
Grievance Redressal Authority appointed by the Supreme Court to look into
resettlement and rehabilitation for Madhya Pradesh. He made his rounds
to the resettlement sites in June. No slogans, he repeated, threatening
that he may have to cite the Narmada Bachao Andolan for contempt.
Along went the “independent” judge with his motorcade of government officials
and police jeeps. Why so many guns? asked an observer. “I didn’t
ask for them,” he replied. Asked if he would be willing to visit
a village without police, he said, “I don’t interfere in these policies.
They are appointed for security.”
Slogans are a security measure for the people. Their nonviolent
resistance against injustice draws its strength from unity. Speaking
in one voice, the villagers are able to articulate their analysis of the
situation with an authority that the judge, surrounded by official information,
could not otherwise recognize in 15 minute halts at each site. The
analysis is clear: the loss the adivasis and farmers will suffer cannot
be compensated. Therefore rehabilitation according to law is not
possible, and the project itself must be questioned. “Punarvas niti
dhoka hai. Dhakka maro mauka hai.” This resettlement policy
is a fraud, kick it out, here’s the chance!
Everyone knows this. The journalists, the activists, the
curious onlookers, all realize that villagers living and cultivating for
generations know more about soil, rocks, weeds and marshes than any of
the officials travelling with the judge. The same government official
who answers Sohoni’s questions with bald figures from official records
walks away mumbling, “this site is hopeless.” Yet the judge insists,
“Let us find out if this soil can be made cultivable, even if it requires
expenditure of crores of rupees.” He tells his secretary, “Send samples
to our agricultural institutes and seek their advice.”
Who will gain all these crores of rupees? Only the literate
enlist agricultural expertise in the cause of displacing farmers. How would
the judge really be able to assess the quality of the land, on which the
lives of the people facing displacement depend? Are farmers not agricultural
experts? Should tribals practicing organic, subsistence agriculture
for generations consent to cropping patterns recommended by government
agencies in collusion with multinational seed, pesticide and fertilizer
suppliers? Until students and faculty of higher education resist
enlistment and reclaim academic research from the clutches of a Monsanto
or a Cargill, globalization will continue to undermine the people’s knowledge.
Meanwhile refugee camps, without farmlands, without access to
transport or markets, without schools, handpumps or health facilities,
pass as resettlement sites and minimum survival becomes the new standard
for rehabilitation. During a site visit, Mr. Uppal of the Narmada
Valley Development Authority distracts some villagers with the question,
“If we put you on this land and said that you have to live here, would
you not grow anything here?”
“Objection. Irrelevant” should have been the reply, since the
Narmada Tribunal Award talks not about bare survival but restoring families’
earlier standard of living. But when big men in gleaming cars and
suits, with gun toting police nearby ask questions in a language the villagers
speak with difficulty, there is no debate. Yes, the villagers reply,
we would grow something. “That is my point!” the officer rolls up
his tinted glass window and drives away.
No wonder the people tend to shout: Ham apne adhikar mangte
hain, nahin kisise bhik mangte hain. We demand our rights, not anyone’s
Such clear and direct messages are nowhere acknowledged in government
documents amidst numbers numbers everywhere. Everyone wants the numbers
to speak for them, but just like words, numbers communicate in different
languages as part of a conceptual framework, a worldview. Numeracy like
literacy is integrated with culture, and way of life. What does the
number “one” mean to those who face displacement?
Amu akha ek se: We are all one.
A direct attack on the government’s strategy of divide and conquer,
the villagers’ unity generates greater unity. As leaders emerge from
the village level organisations, the government may take aside a family
and offer them a plot of land to appease them. Surviving two rounds
of government sponsored deforestation, severe soil degradation, drought,
and threats that those who don’t accept resettlement now will get nothing
later, the family is in a very vulnerable position. It seems they
lose either way. Gaining strength from unity, they reply that they
must see the plan for the entire village. When a village as a whole
becomes too strong to ignore, the government may again try to lure the
village with promises of community resettlement as required by the Narmada
Tribunal. At this time the village demands to see the plan for all
the 245 villages to be ousted by the Sardar Sarovar Project, all the while
raising questions as to the merits of the project, the fate of oustees
of other dams along the Narmada, and of other projects throughout the world.
We are one, they insist.
Stumbling over numbers was again the order of the day on 9 August
when Kurdukar met with villagers individually in Dhadgaon (the block level
headquarters). He began, “Remember to tell the truth. How many
children do you have?” Seven. “State their names.” Names
were listed. “That is only five.” Two children died. “When
were they born?” he asked suspiciously. While villagers came prepared
to discuss the holistic issue of livelihood, ecology and human rights with
respect to the unjust displacement, now they supplied their children’s
dates of birth. Thousands waited outside in the scorching sun, but only
a dozen could meet the judge that day. All returned the way they
came, walking for hours through the Satpura mountain ranges.
Statistics such as date of birth may be concrete to some yet vague
to others. A survey team went to villagers’ houses to inquire on
infant mortality rates (imr). Though imr is an internationally accepted
health indicator, the workers found that interviewing even one family took
3-4 hours. When was your daughter born? She was born in the
year after the drought. Have any of your children died? Yes.
When? Last year there was a very late rain, crops were ruined, at
that time one boy got diarrhea and died. How old was he when he died?
He was born one year after his brother, who was born in the monsoon after
my sister’s wedding which was fixed during the Holi which we celebrated
in my mother’s village …”
Like this the years slowly come out … the years of birth, the
years of death, the years of drought, the years of flood, the years of
cholera, the seasons and events that mark the passage of time and memories
Common Sense and State Innumeracy
It would be wrong to contrast the sentiments of the villagers
with the cold mathematical reason attributed to government planners.
A dam could never be built on reason alone. Whether on cost, irrigation,
or power generation, calculations speak against the building of more dams.
Amount of land irrigated is less than double the land lost to submergence
and waterlogging. The cost of such inefficient irrigation runs to
ten times the cost of local watershed development 3.
Factor in soil degradation, loss of forests, biodiversity, and livelihood;
spread of diseases and geological instability, and one questions the rationality
of even proposing a large dam. Even politicians when not in power
have declared that with a small fraction of the budget allocated to one
mega dam they could implement small scale projects in water harvesting
and power generation that would achieve results in 1-5 years. In
contrast, the Ministry of Water Resources stated in 1993 that the waters
of Sardar Sarovar would reach the drought-prone regions of Kutch and Saurashtra,
via a main canal of length 460 km, in 2025.
Nehruvian metaphor fuels the fervour to build these “temples .4”
Dam builders have not scored high marks in the math department. The
experience of the Bargi dam rings loud and clear with government innumeracy.
The first mega dam on the river Narmada, near Jabalpur (Madhya Pradesh),
the project displaced 100,000 prosperous farmers and fishworkers.
Engineers first declared that the reservoir would submerge 101 villages,
but when filled it actually engulfed 162 villages and some resettlement
colonies as well. How to account for the lives of 61 villages? The
literate answer with a friendly letter and fresh paint on the project notice
And what about all the farmers who were to benefit? The
Bargi dam has irrigated only 5% of the land it promised to irrigate.
Even temples manage water better than this.
Once proud farmers now pace the pavements of Jabalpur. Living
in slums, pulling rickshaws, labouring for daily wages, they lament, “Our
hands are used to giving, not taking. Had we been organised we would
never have let this project go through.” The paper pushers of this
country should witness the honour that glows in the eyes of one who knows
how to cultivate the land. “Even when fifty parikrama vasis (pilgrims
to Narmada) came we would welcome all of them.”
People who can feed fifty guests on short notice can tell you
a good deal about the Narmada Valley Development Projects. “Just
as we must assess how much grains, ghee, wood, etc are required and from
where we will get them, in planning such a project one must first measure
the water …” from there the comparisons begin. With river volume
now known to be 18%, or 5 million acre feet less than originally calculated,
Narmada Sagar (the feeder dam) in doldrums, and government survey levels
off by 3 metres, the project is in total chaos (also known as centralized
planning). While peasants would never dream of welcoming 50 people without
having enough grains, the Sardar Sarovar Narmada Nigam Limited is fully
prepared to drown thousands on the basis of erroneous calculations.
Another parameter used in assessing displacement is the once in hundred
year flood level. The Government of Gujarat has calculated this using
the HEC-2 computer simulation program. However if one compares the
results with the observed flood levels (on record with the Central Water
Commission), one finds that water has risen above this level three times
since 1970, even without the dam. Had the Narmada Water Disputes
Tribunal during its ten years of deliberations (1969 – 1979) ever consulted
the tribals or farmers, it would have had better measurements of flood
levels and the governments might not be blundering so badly in assessing
the extent of displacement today.
The 3 metre mystery
People always suspected that there were errors in the government
surveys, not only due to the experience of Bargi, but due to persistent
inconsistencies in government information regarding flood levels.
Survey markers on the same field would indicate submergence at different
reservoir levels. In some villages, houses received notices that
their land would be submerged while houses lower than theirs received no
notice. To all except those relying on government records, something
was obviously and seriously wrong and no Grievance Redressal Authority
would ever hear the woes of those rendered homeless and without livelihood
unless they were listed as Project Affected Persons (PAPs) in those records.
Dr. Ravi Kuchimanchi, who tracked down the error in the government’s
survey had to set aside his training as a Civil Engineer and work according
to the people’s knowledge to solve the mystery of the 3 metre level difference.
Surveying the heights independently, he had two sources of reference.
One was the government benchmarks, supposed to be accurate to the milimetre.
The other was the people’s reports … but they never reported the height
of their home or field above mean sea level. They would point out
where the waters reached in the 1970 flood. Not mean sea level but
their house was the reference, for measuring the water level.
What struck him was that people in different villages would all
indicate the same level of water of a flood thirty years ago. Their
measurements were as accurate as any survey instrument. At last Ravi
got what he needed – an alternate frame of reference from which to check
the validity of the government surveys. People’s knowledge is more
than the oft-displayed medicinal herb and bamboo craft, but the very basis
and defense of their independent, adventurous life. An error of 3
metres across the entire submergence zone would mean an additional 18,000
Project Affected People. When these survey errors were brought to
the attention of officials in a meeting with Madhya Pradesh Chief Minister
Dig Vijay Singh 5, officials were intrigued
but confirmed that they would continue according to the benchmarks and
computer simulations in their records.
The fight against centralization of knowledge and natural resources
is a fight against globalization, in which people’s knowledge – in their
own language and with reference to their own experience – is an essential
survival tool. In India the battles over patents on neem, turmeric,
and basmati rice have drawn attention to the wholesale attack on people’s
knowledge. Dams further reveal the extent of the attack. The
desperate attempts to attract finance for the Maheshwar dam (also on the
Narmada) highlight the mutual dependence of resource-centralizing projects
upon multinational finance which seeks distance from the democratic processes
of any single country.
The state visits exchanged by U.S. President Clinton and Indian Prime
Minister Vajpayee have positioned India as a driver on the road towards
globalization and deprivation of the resources and rights of the poor.
During Clinton’s March visit to India, U.S. company Ogden signed a deal
to invest in the Maheshwar dam. After three German companies – VEW, Bayernwerke,
and Siemens, withdrew from the project based on reports from independent
human rights organizations, the owner of S. Kumars, the Indian private
capital behind the Maheshwar dam accompanied Vajpayee on his September
visit to the US. Even higher than Maheshwar on the agenda of Indo-US
trade relations has been the software and telecommunications industry,
whose remote security and surveillance systems are the bedrock of globalization.
While India rides this information superhighway, the right to information
is still denied to the vast majority of its citizens. This is only
to be expected – though when the urban educated try to hear the excluded
voices, the government’s response may surprise them.
The Gujarat police detentions of 23 and 24 August, drawing condemnation
from organizations within Gujarat as well as Amnesty International, demonstrated
to the world that the issues the Narmada Bachao Andolan has raised over
the past 15 years pertain not only to victims of submergence in Sardar
Sarovar, they impact upon society as a whole. The chance to hear
people of the Narmada Valley speak in their own idiom in their own place,
the “Saga of Narmada” day-long seminar organized in the village of Nimgavhan,
in Maharashtra’s tribal belt drew women and men from all walks of life.
Those with prior experience of Gujarat repression where Narmada was concerned
took circuitous routes through cornfields and gushing streams on that monsoon
day. Those who travelled openly to hear the story from the people
of the valley, were detained en route and denied their right to information.
This right was the first demand of the struggle they came to hear about.
It was now their struggle too.
Age aur ladai hai: Further Struggle Ahead.
At the recent Independence Day ceremony in Nimgavhan, the Indian flag
was hoisted by 93 year old socialist activist Siddharaj Dhadda, exercising
a right for which he had himself gone to jail in 1935. Before several
hundred school children 6 and guests,
he inaugurated the first alphabet book for this region’s tribal students,
reading aloud the first few letters, Ka: Kukadi, etc. Among those
repeating after him were the two government appointed teachers who show
up only on such national holidays. They explained that they were
assigned to teach English, recently made a compulsory subject in Maharashtra.
Trouble was, they could not communicate with the children here, who speak
not the state language Marathi, but their own language, Pavri.
Rules like the introduction of compulsory English from 1st standard
reaffirm the equation of English with education, development, and progress.
Asserting the value of mother tongue in children’s education, the Narmada
Bachao Andolan’s jeevanshalas (primary schools) have published primers
in Pavri, the local language. Asserting their own language has not
at all isolated them; it has on the contrary earned them respect, and visitors
to this region coming from all over India feel glad to learn even a bit
of Pavri. Saving government teachers from globalization is one step.
People and their knowledge will sink or float not only according to how
they speak, but how they are heard. The judicial system, a prime
target for attack by the Multinational Agreement on Investments (next weapon
on the corporate wish-list), needs guidance from the people. The
World Bank once thought itself unquestionable where development was concerned,
but embarked on “reform” measures thanks to its experience in Narmada.
The 183 page Supreme Court Majority Judgment serves as a far more effective
weapon of globalization than anything imposed by OECD or WTO, rendering
democratic processes irrelevant. For example, a foundation stone
by the Prime Minister is cited as an adequate substitute for Clearance
by the Planning Commission. The Judgment goes so far as to say that
once money is spent on a project it simply cannot be challenged.
Such throwbacks to an era of divine right of kings clearly indicates that
the institutions of justice and governance will have to reform at the hands
of the people’s movements.
The people’s movements of India hold fast to the slogan they raised
in the momentous Harsud convention of 1989: vikas chahiye, vinas
nahin. “We want development and not destruction.” The mainstream
has had to learn (though slowly) from these mass movements to recognize
the difference. Voices are rising everywhere against the rampage
of large dams, mines, polluting industries, sweatshops, airports and expressways,
designs for health care delivery – all packaged and publicized as Third
World aid, while destroying natural resources, traditional knowledge, and
vibrant communities. The annual mea culpas of the World Bank7
, while hardly interrupting this trend, do appeal to that segment of the
First World that can no longer ignore the problems in dominant development
policies. Hundreds of thousands of survivors of Union Carbide corporate
crime in Bhopal, still waiting for compensation for illnesses resulting
from the gas leakage 15 years ago, and suffering to this day from groundwater
contamination due to the leaked toxins, remind us that “We all live in
Bhopal.” The recent decision of the New York Federal
Court to dismiss their class action lawsuit against Union Carbide Corporation
is an urgent call for solidarity.
The demon Mahishasura is said in Hindu myth to be reborn every time
a drop of its blood falls to the ground. Globalization similarly
seeks to persuade us that it is unconquerable, inevitable. Like the
survivors of the Bhopal gas disaster, those confronting the unjust submergence
of Sardar Sarovar, and the deceptive development policies and false affidavits
that dismiss their voices, are fighting with their lives. For the
government, completion of Sardar Sarovar is significant as a signal that
people’s democratic actions cannot stop projects, no matter how poorly
conceived, rather than as a means for supplying water or electricity (even
to industries). With the dam at 88m height, the villagers and their
supporters remain in satyagraha throughout the monsoon, not leaving the
lowest houses of Domkhedi (Maharashtra) and Jalsindhi (Madhya Pradesh)
even as the waters rise, just as they have done in villages facing submergence
at earlier heights. “Dubenge par hatenge nahin” We will drown but
not move out has never been merely a slogan, but has been repeatedly proved
by the people. Growing this year is an assertion of people’s right
to recreate their lives on their own terms, not as “submergence villages”
but as the forefront in energy, education, and health initiatives appropriate
to the contemporary socio-economic conditions. In the energy of struggle
is the genesis of the alternative.
The political lines of globalization are marked by language. Those
fluent in the first world’s first language, risk confinement into its ways
of knowing, judging and imagining, whose repressive streak has become more
visible. The dignity and victory with which the fourth and third
worlds are resisting these representations are a light of hope for all
who experience globalization as repression, for all who live in Bhopal,
for all who stand behind the people’s own global standards, such as aguas
para vida, nao para a morte, declared in myriad languages in the Curtiba
Encontro International de Atingidos por Barragens (Convention of People
Affected by Large Dams), for all who know that amu akha ek se.
1. For a brief history of the struggle see Sanjay
Sangvai, The River and Life: People’s Struggle in the Narmada Valley (Mumbai:
Earth Care Books, 2000).
2. Passed in December 1996, the legislation gives
tribals ''substantial and significant'' local self-governance rights, including
control over natural resources that had been denied them by planners.
It recognises that indigenous peoples have developed cultural systems that
ensure judicious use of their natural resources.
3. Union Water Resources Ministry, Government
of India Report, December 1991 cites cost of irrigation through large irrigation
projects as Rs. 40,000 per hectare. In contrast Agha Khan Rural Support
Program (in Gujarat) cites cost of locally managed watershed development
as Rs. 3000 – 5000 per hectare. Individual farmers cite even lower
4. India’s first Prime Minister Jawaharlar Nehru
is famous for saying, “Dams are the temples of modern India.” His
later speeches expressing reservations with large projects and calling
for small, locally managed initiatives are far less remembered, but can
be found in C.V.J. Sharma (ed.) Modern Temples of India: Selected Speeches
of Jawaharlar Nehru at Irrigation and Power Projects, Delhi: Central Board
of Irrigation and Power, 1989.
5. Meeting of Narmada Bachao Andolan, Narmada
Valley Development Authority, and Government of Madhya Pradesh in Chief
Minister’s office, Bhopal, 20 September 2000.
6. The Narmada Bachao Andolan runs a system of jeevanshalas
(primary schools) in the tribal region of the Narmada Valley.
7. The government schools in the area exist only on
paper, apart from such special appearances. Excerpts appear
in Multinational Monitor, June 2000.