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Raipur/Jagdalpur, November 17 (IANS) Deep in the forests of Bastar, where the sound of bullets once echoed louder than the chirping of birds, now the gentle clink of coffee cups signals a quiet revolution.
Today, Chhattisgarh Chief Minister Vishnu Dev Sai cut the ribbon of “Pandum Cafe”, a simple eatery located inside the Police Lines complex here – but for its employees, it is nothing less than a second chance in life.
Fagni, a soft-spoken mother from Narayanpur, wipes a table with a steady hand, her eyes sparkling as she recalls the day she exchanged the weight of a rebel’s rucksack for an apron.
“We lived in darkness then,” she says. Once caught in the crossfire of Naxalite violence, Fagni is one of the café’s pioneers – survivors and surrendered militants who have chosen peace over a pile of gunpowder.
“Today, I serve people with a smile. It’s like being born again. Coffee instead of gunpowder… And the money I earn? It’s clean, it’s mine, and it brings real peace.”
Next to her, Sukma’s Pushpa Thakur is stirring a pot of aromatic filter coffee. A decade ago, the dream of a stable home for her children seemed as distant as the cities she had heard about only in whispers.
“We couldn’t even imagine paying respect to our families,” she shares, looking at a faded photo of her children posted on the café’s bulletin board.
“Now, every single rupee I earn here is a step towards their future. This place – it’s not just a job; it’s freedom.”
Chief Minister Vishnu Dev Sai wrote about the café on his They were scared, standing shoulder to shoulder instead of wearing aprons, serving smiles instead of angry slogans.”
This small café is proof of this: When determination is unleashed, even the darkest corners of Bastar can shine with dignity, peace and the promise of tomorrow, he said while inaugurating it.
The name of the café, “Pandum”, evokes the resilient spirit of the tribal heartland of Bastar, but its real magic lies in the stories behind the counter. Birendra Thakur, a burly former cadre who has calluses from both rifles and is making coffee, nods as he explains his unlikely pivot.
“I thought it would be impossible to come back – the stares, the embarrassment. But the police and administration trained us, trusted us. Hygiene classes, customer chats, and even how to dream big as entrepreneurs. And here to work shoulder to shoulder with victims like Ashmati? This is our way of expressing regret, building bridges where walls once stood.”
The Ashmatis of Bastar were victims of the same violence that had ravaged their community. She once looked at militants with suspicion.
“It wasn’t easy in the beginning,” she admits. “But seeing them sweat during training, hearing their regrets – it improved something in me too. We are no longer enemies; we are family, making ends meet and a future together.”
Premila Baghel, the fifth in this tight-knit group, oversees the plowing with quiet pride.
He said, “The Chief Minister sat with us today, listened to us like we mattered. His words weren’t just politics – they felt like permission of hope.”
Chief Minister Sai did not utter any words during the heartfelt conversation over tea. “Pandum Café is not just bricks and beans,” he said.
“It is a beacon – hope for the hopeless, progress in the shadow of Naxalism. These young souls, once defeated by violence, are now architects of peace. With our support, Bastar is rewriting its story, one cup at a time.”
With rigorous training in everything from food safety to smiling at rush hours, the launch of the café marks a bold government effort at rehabilitation.
It is part of a larger wave of destruction of Maoist strongholds, offering not pity, but purpose – sustainable jobs that heal divisions and unite communities.
“It’s not survival. It’s living,” Fagni said.
In Bastar, where peace was once a fragile truce, Pandum Café is building something strong.
–IANS
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