Refugees in their own land: The constitutional limbo of Gutti Koyas

Beyond the migration date, these adivasis are trapped by a technical mismatch in official lists. In Chhattisgarh, they are classified as Muria or Maria Gonds. However, upon crossing the border, they are locally referred to as “Gutti Koyas.” Since this specific name is not explicitly listed as a synonym for “Koya” in the ST lists of Andhra Pradesh and Telangana, authorities treat them as a distinct, unlisted group. This nomenclature gap allows the administration to deny them ST status.

Deep within the forests of the Godavari valley, spanning the borders of Telangana and Andhra Pradesh, lives a population of nearly 50,000 people who exist in a unique administrative twilight zone.

They are the Gutti Koyas—historically the Muria Gonds—Adivasis who fled the conflict-ridden hinterlands of Chhattisgarh to find safety in the neighbouring Telugu states.

To the naked eye, they are indistinguishable from the local Koya communities, sharing similar dialects, cultural practices, and deities. Yet, in the eyes of the State, a harsh invisible line drawn across the river transforms them from “protected tribals” into “illegal settlers.” This bureaucratic erasure has created a humanitarian crisis where thousands possess Aadhaar cards and voter IDs and yet are denied the most fundamental right of every adivasi: identity.

The primary hurdle for these migrants is the principle of “territorial restriction” enshrined in Article 342 of the Indian Constitution. As interpreted by the Supreme Court in Marri Chandra Shekhar Rao vs. Dean, Seth G.S. Medical College (1990), Scheduled Tribe (ST) status is state-specific. A community recognised as an ST in Chhattisgarh does not automatically carry that privilege to Telangana or Andhra Pradesh. For a tribe to be recognized in a new state, they must prove “ordinary residence” prior to the first Presidential Order of 1950.

The Gutti Koyas, however, are victims of modern history. Their migration was not a choice of centuries past, but a desperate fight for survival beginning in 2005, triggered by the brutal Salwa Judum counterinsurgency. Because they arrived after 1950, revenue officials classify them legally as “migrants,” stripping them of their constitutional protection under the Fifth Schedule.

Beyond the migration date, these adivasis are trapped by a technical mismatch in official lists. In Chhattisgarh, they are classified as Muria or Maria Gonds. However, upon crossing the border, they are locally referred to as “Gutti Koyas.” Since this specific name is not explicitly listed as a synonym for “Koya” in the ST lists of Andhra Pradesh and Telangana, authorities treat them as a distinct, unlisted group. This nomenclature gap allows the administration to deny them ST status even though they are ethnically similar to the local tribes. They are refugees of war who have become victims of vocabulary.

A cruel paradox defines their existence in the resettlement areas of Bhadradri Kothagudem, Mulugu, and Alluri Seetharama Raju districts. Politically, they are visible; administratively, they are invisible. Local political exigencies have ensured that many possess voter ID cards. They are courted during elections, their votes counted to decide the fate of local representatives. They hold Aadhaar cards, a proof that they exist. Yet, the state machinery draws a sharp line when it comes to ‘benefits.’ Without an ST caste certificate, they are ineligible for reservation in education, government jobs and tribal welfare hostels.

The most devastating impact is on land rights. Under the Forest Rights Act (FRA) of 2006, STs need only prove occupation of forest land before December 2005. But because Gutti Koyas are denied ST status locally, they are treated as “Other Traditional Forest Dwellers” (OTFD), a category requiring proof of three generations, or 75 years, of residency—an impossible standard for conflict refugees.

Consequently, they remain encroachers on the very land they till, living under the constant threat of eviction.

Policymakers often argue that these families should return to Chhattisgarh. This ignores the ground reality. A new generation has been born and raised in the Godavari agency; they speak Telugu, work in the chilli and cotton fields, and have no memory of Bastar. The bridge back has been burnt by fear and time.

The governments of Telangana and Andhra Pradesh need not wait for a constitutional amendment to act. They can, through executive orders, recognise these settlements as special rehabilitation zones.

Even if full ST reservation is withheld to protect the interests of native tribes, these migrants must be granted “IDP Cards” that ensure access to health, education, and protection under the SC/ST Prevention of Atrocities Act.

Adivasi identity is rooted in the symbiotic relationship between the human and the forest, not in the artificial boundaries of 1950.

It is time the state acknowledges that geography should not cancel out humanity.