Why Madvi Hidma’s killing is a big blow to Maoists: ruthless tactician, figure of inspiration for cadres

Making of Hidma’s myth

Hidma’s story begins in Puvarti, a tiny village on the Sukma–Bijapur border that until a few years ago was considered impenetrable Maoist terrain. Recruited in 1991 as a Bal Sangham cadre — a child fighter — by senior leaders Ramanna and Badranna, he grew up entirely inside the movement. Over the years, photographs of him surfaced sporadically: a wiry tribal man in his thirties or forties, a thin moustache, usually carrying an AK-47. His name too shifted — “Mandavi” in some records, “Madvi” in others — adding to the haze surrounding him.

But within the Maoist ranks, especially among the local tribal cadre, there was no confusion. Hidma was theirs — a Bastar boy who had not only risen through the system but conquered it. In a leadership dominated by Telugu-speaking ideological veterans from Andhra Pradesh and Telangana, he was the rare exception. “In an organisation dominated by Telugus,” a senior security official told The Indian Express, “he was the only local tribal in a senior position… his word mattered to the cadres in Chhattisgarh.”

This mattered because Maoism in Bastar is sustained almost entirely by adivasi fighters, many of whom joined young, and few of whom possess deep ideological grounding. For them, the movement has long been less about doctrine and more about loyalty, identity, and the idea of resistance. Hidma, who had walked the same forests as them, who spoke their dialects, and who rose despite the cultural ceiling, became their symbol.

The rise of an unrivalled battlefield commander

Hidma’s organisational climb was swift. After a brief stint in Madhya Pradesh’s Balaghat region in 2002, he returned to Bastar and, by 2004, had become secretary of the Konta Area Committee. Three years later, he was commander of Company No. 3. In 2009, he was appointed deputy commander of the Maoists’ most lethal fighting force — PLGA Battalion No. 1 — and within the year, its chief.

Between 2009 and 2021, as Battalion No. 1’s commander, he engineered the deadliest phase of the insurgency. His attacks didn’t merely kill soldiers — they shook the morale of the security establishment, altered counter-insurgency strategies, and briefly revived a movement that was otherwise steadily losing ideological steam.

Among the attacks attributed to him:

Tadmetla (2010): 76 CRPF personnel killed

Bankupara (2017): 12 CRPF jawans killed

Burkapal (2017): 25 CRPF personnel killed

Minpa–Burkapal (2020): 17 personnel killed

Tekulgudem–Pedagelur (2021): 22 DRG, STF and CoBRA personnel killed

He is also believed to have played a key role in the 2013 Jhiram Ghati (Darbha) attack, which wiped out the Congress leadership in Chhattisgarh.

Multiple surrendered Maoists have described him as a “master executioner” — a man who planned meticulously, read terrain like a map etched into his palm, and maintained absolute composure under fire. “He speaks to the cadre like an equal,” one told interrogators. “In an ambush, he never panics.”

Why security forces could never catch Hidma

Several large-scale operations were launched specifically to capture or kill Hidma. Operation Prahaar in 2017 — undertaken after the Bhejji and Burkapal killings — involved a massive pincer movement by Chhattisgarh police and central forces. For days, teams combed the forests of Tondamarka, an area long considered a Maoist capital. The police believed Hidma had been badly injured — possibly carried away in a tractor — but within months he emerged again, leading fresh attacks.

The 2021 Tekulgudem encounter was another example. Acting on intelligence about Hidma’s presence near Puvarti, around 800 personnel — from CRPF, CoBRA, the DRG and STF — moved into the area. Instead, they walked into a trap. Hidma’s battalion, positioned on a hill, opened sustained LMG fire, killing 22 soldiers.

This year’s Karegutta Hills operations, involving nearly 25,000 personnel in the largest counter-Maoist deployment in decades, also aimed to corner him. Thirty-one Maoists were killed. Hidma escaped yet again.

His elusiveness was not magic, but structure. He always travelled with three concentric security rings, rarely used roads, and shifted rapidly through dense forested slopes, streams and nullahs. The lack of phone networks meant that even when intelligence was accurate, it was already several hours old by the time security forces acted.

As a senior officer put it once: “Even when we knew exactly where he was, we often couldn’t get there quickly enough.”

The man the Maoist movement needed most

If Basavaraju, the Maoist General Secretary killed in May, represented the ideological continuity of the movement, Hidma represented its emotional and military core in Bastar. As older leaders died or fell ill, he increasingly “called the shots”, in the words of those tracking the movement. In fact, although the Maoists appointed Devuji as General Secretary after Basavaraju’s death, intelligence suggested that it was Hidma who shaped key operational decisions.

Earlier this year, the organisation — bowing to pressure from tribal cadre — promoted him to the Central Committee, the second-highest decision-making body. Sources say this elevation came after discontent grew over Telugu dominance. Senior figures like Mallojula Venugopal Rao are known to have left the organisation partly due to these internal tensions.

Chhattisgarh Home Minister Vijay Sharma recently reached out to Hidma’s mother, who appealed: “Where are you, son? Please come home. We’ll earn a living and stay here… If you were nearby, I would have searched for you in the jungle.”

Yet, even mediators who spoke to him say Hidma’s response never changed. “I will fight even if I am the only one left.”

Why his death matters now

To understand the significance of his killing, one must look at the movement’s present condition. The Maoist insurgency in Dandakaranya is now a frail shadow of its former self.

Much of the top leadership has either surrendered or been killed. The rest is ageing with many senior figures suffering chronic illnesses. Fresh recruitment has dried up, the ideological appeal has collapsed, security forces have penetrated deep into Abujhmaad, and resources and safe zones have shrunk sharply.

In this landscape, Hidma was the last source of inspiration — the last figure cadres believed in, admired, and were willing to fight for.

Former CRPF DG K Durga Prasad had earlier told The Indian Express: “The killing of Basavaraju was big, but if they kill Hidma, the cadres will be completely demoralised. As long as he is there, they will sustain.”

Now he is gone.

What happens next?

The Maoists will struggle to fill the vacuum. They may disperse into smaller groups, avoid direct confrontation, and withdraw deeper into the forests near Pamed where forces still have limited presence. A push for negotiations, or at least a unilateral ceasefire, is likely.

Security forces, meanwhile, believe this is the moment to consolidate gains — not just militarily, but administratively. Without governance, institutions, roads, courts and welfare systems filling the vacuum, they warn, another version of the movement could emerge in the future.

One central security officer offered a reminder from history: “When PWG’s Nalla Adi Reddy was killed in 1999, people said Ganapathy would surrender. Instead, he became stronger. The situation is different now, but forces cannot stop until the last candle is extinguished.”