Why Did Encroachers in Doboka Choose to Leave on Their Own?

In a development that stands in stark contrast to the volatile eviction scenes witnessed across Assam in recent years, hundreds of settlers have begun voluntarily vacating the Jamuna–Moudanga Reserved Forest under Doboka in Hojai district ahead of an eviction drive by the Forest Department.

The residents, many of whom have lived on the land for over four decades, have started dismantling their own homes—shifting belongings on their shoulders, carrying tin roofs in cycles, and walking away from the only place they have known as home.

Eviction notices were recently served to 1,258 families occupying land inside the reserved forest area. Forest officials say the encroachers never possessed any legal rights over the land and had gradually transformed dense forest into human settlements over the years—flattening hills, cutting down trees, and turning the land into agricultural fields. Following land verification and survey reports, the department initiated eviction proceedings as part of a broader drive to reclaim degraded forestland.

Yet, behind this peaceful compliance lies a story of helplessness and anxiety.

“We Are Squatters, We Accept the Government’s Order”

“We don’t mind the eviction. We are squatters on government land, so if the government wants this area cleaned up, we will oblige,” said one resident as he loaded his family’s belongings onto a truck. His voice carried no resentment—only a matter-of-fact resignation.

Officials from the Forest Department confirmed that so far, no resistance has been reported. Unlike previous eviction operations in Assam marked by violence, political allegations, and clashes—this one has been surprisingly calm. According to officials, since most families began vacating voluntarily, heavy police deployment was not required.

But this apparent compliance tells only half the story.

“Just Give Us Two Months”

Only days before demolition began, the same residents had made a public plea to the government:

“Just give us two months,” they said. “Let us harvest our paddy before eviction.”

For these families, agriculture is the only source of survival. Most of them cultivate paddy on the flat portions of the forestland. Thousands of acres of crops are now ready for harvest—crops that are likely to be lost if eviction continues without pause.

“Thousands of acres of paddy have been cultivated here. We request the authorities not to destroy our crops before eviction. After harvesting, we will vacate the land voluntarily,” a farmer said, pleading not for mercy, but for time.

Another resident, visibly shaken, shared:

“We are deeply terrorized. Tears flow daily. Agriculture is our only livelihood. We request the Chief Minister to give us two months. We’re not against eviction, but without time to harvest, our families will starve.”

No Word Yet on Rehabilitation

While the eviction continues smoothly on the ground, there has been no official communication regarding rehabilitation or relocation. The administration is yet to announce whether the displaced families will receive any resettlement assistance or alternative land.

Government sources say the eviction is necessary to restore the reserved forest and launch afforestation and conservation programmes. Years of encroachment have severely degraded the region—illegal tree felling, earth excavation, and settlement expansion have stripped the land of its ecological balance.

However, humanitarian concerns remain—especially with children, the elderly, and daily-wage farmers caught in the transition. Schools will be lost, farmlands abandoned, and entire village clusters erased in a matter of days.

The Larger Question

This eviction marks yet another chapter in Assam’s recurring conflict between conservation and human survival. The law is clear—reserved forests must be protected. But the truth is layered. Most of these families didn’t arrive here yesterday. They have lived on this land for decades, built lives, raised children, and formed communities. In many cases, successive governments silently tolerated such settlements—now branding them illegal.

The lack of a clear rehabilitation policy only deepens the crisis. The eviction drive may restore forestland—but at what social cost?

What Happens Now?

• Eviction operations to continue over the next few days

• Forest Department to take over the cleared land

• Afforestation work to begin after the drive

• Awaiting government stand on rehabilitation for 1,258 displaced families

• No assurance yet on allowing residents time to harvest standing crops

What is unfolding in Jamuna–Moudanga is not a protest, not a conflict—it is silent displacement. A quiet exodus, staged without slogans or resistance. It is legal, it is orderly—but it is also heartbreakingly human.

Also Read: “Just Give Us Two Months”: Doboka Farmers Plead Amid Forest Evictions