First Person: Tale Of A Forgotten Sambalpur Village Derapathaar That Waits For Roads, Schools And Light
When ETV Bharat's Badsah Jusman Rana visited Odisha's Derapathaar, children walking miles through dangerous terrain to reach school indicated that development remains a distant dream.
Published : October 11, 2025 at 7:20 PM IST
Naktideul (Sambalpur): The car came to a screeching halt after I realised the road ended here. I could only see a narrow, stony path disappearing into dense forest. The area was ensconced between green hills where the smell of wet earth and wild leaves prevailed all around.
As I tried to negotiate my way, someone said, “From here, you have to trek five kilometres because there is no road beyond this point.” I guessed it was someone from the nearby village - Derapathaar, my destination.
So I began rediscovering the village from where the road never existed. In Sambalpur district’s Natideul, this was probably the village in the hinterland which has remained untouched by any progress or development, even after 77 years of Independence.
With no trace of human presence till quite some distance, as I walked a little further, I saw a group of school students marching ahead with bags on their back. That was a clear indication that the school was away, got to know it was 5 km, and streams served as identification marks for the students to navigate.
As I walked, my shoes got stuck in mud, given the fact that there was rain sometime back. Making way through the thick sal trees and thorny bushes, with a constant flow of stream, as I rolled up my jeans and stepped into the icy water, I could see some people walking in another direction with axe and machetes, and it was not a difficult guess that either they were on way to fell tree branches for fire or kept these to protect themselves from wild animals which are common in this part of the district.
When I entered the village it was like another world altogether. It was an hour’s walk exactly. All I could see was a cluster of mud houses surrounded by green hills. Electric poles were everywhere, suggesting that at least power connected the hinterland with the mainland. But no, the villagers still make do with lanterns and lamps after dusk. I did not even try to check my mobile phone, because connectivity did not mean anything in the area.
Just silence, which was broken by the sound of a distant cowbell at intervals.
About 15 tribal (Kondhs) families lived in Derapathaar and a neighbouring small hamlet called Hitam, both of which had a population of 90 people. Despite being a revenue village, none owns farmland. The villagers depend entirely on forest produce and daily wage work to survive.
Kondhs are recognised as a Scheduled Tribe, and speak the Kui language.
A few young men who I met on the roadside were busy cutting branches. Looking at my inquisitive face, they said, “We clear these roadsides every few days because when our children return from school after sunset, they get afraid of snakes,” said one of them.
When I questioned them about electricity, another pointed to a row of poles which had crumbled, and some half-buried in weeds. “The electricity poles came years ago but the power supply did not,” he said.
A solar-powered tube well provides just enough water to drink.
As I stood there, a school uniform-clad boy came to me. Though he seemed shy, Raju Jhankar, opened up soon about their life. He is a class IX student of Jagannath Prasad High School. He answered me about his daily routine and I was stunned!
“For students in classes one to five, there is the Hikpali Primary School which is located five kilometres away. We have to cross seven streams - Arkhai, Dera Pathi, Sujilat, Rajapal, Veji Darah, Devi Darah, and Devi Khol - on the way. But for high school, we have to walk 10 kilometres to Sarapali or Jagannath Prasad. And when it rains, the streams overflow and we cannot go at all,” Raju said matter-of-factly.
He also said if someone falls ill they usually carry the patient on a cot to Hikpali and from there, we manage to reach the primary health centre at Naktideul,.
Though Derapathaar had a school years ago, its walls have now got covered in moss and its windows broken.
Yudhishthir Jhankar, a villager, recalled how the village was way back in 2003 or 2004. “One of our teachers, Jayachandra Dhal, was kidnapped by Maoists when he was on way to school. They released him the same evening but not without beating him black and blue. After that, he never came back to teach. We saw a few other teachers come, but they too stopped within days,” reveals Yudhisthir. He adds that the number of students fell, and finally, the school shut down in 2007.
Walking a few steps further, I met a few others who seemed oblivious to the fact that I was an outsider. “Government officers or MLA come here if elections are close. They make promises and we stare at them blankly,” said Kartik Dehuri, a young man.
The voice did not come as a complaint, rather it was one of being weary as if they have lost all hopes of change. No anger or remorse, just acceptance.
I walked to Sarapali Sarpanch Shibani Barik who admitted her helplessness. “Most of the routes to Derapathaar pass through forest land. There are many canals, and funds limited. We have already informed higher officials about the road and electricity issues,” she said.
As the sun set behind the hills, and sun rays faded, I returned with a heavy heart, more than the weight of schoolbags the children were carrying while returning from school, holding each other’s hands.
All I could do was look at them disappearing into the darkening forest.
Unable to join the pieces of underdevelopment, I made my way back and met the BDO of Nakatideul block, Bidyadhar Rautray. He said the terrain is difficult and so is development. That was resigning to fate and it hit me hard.
“We have shifted some families from Derapathaar to Chandrapur. Road repair work was taken up under MLA-LAD funds but could not be completed. More work is in the pipeline under Western Odisha Development Council (WODC). If the remaining families shift to Chandrapur, we can facilitate them,” he said.
In a country racing towards digital dreams, Derapathaar seemed like Timbuktu, sans development.
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