NASHIK/MUMBAI — January 26, 2026
While the rest of the nation watched grand parades of steel and chrome, thousands of weathered hands—the hands that till the earth and guard the forests—were raised not in a salute of comfort, but in a plea for justice.
On India’s 77th Republic Day, the dusty stretch of the national highway between Nashik and Mumbai became a moving sanctuary of hope and heartbreak. Thousands of tribal farmers and workers, their feet rhythmic against the asphalt, continued their "Long March." For them, the Constitution isn't just a document of high ideals; it is the deed to the land they have lived on for generations, a deed they are still waiting to hold.
Patriotism in the Dust
At dawn, the procession paused. There were no polished stages or velvet seats. Amidst the roar of passing trucks, a makeshift tribute was organized. The tricolour fluttered alongside the red flags of the CPI(M) and AIKS, a poignant reminder that these citizens do not want to overthrow the system—they simply want it to work for them.
As floral tributes were offered to the flag, the air was thick with a quiet, steely resolve. These are people who celebrate the Republic even as they feel forgotten by it.
"We are the children of this soil," one elderly marcher remarked, his face etched with the lines of decades of labor. "We honor the flag today because it represents the rights we are marching to claim."
The Weight of Broken Promises
This is not a new journey. The ghosts of the 2018 march, where 70,000 people walked 200 kilometers until their feet bled, haunt this highway. Back then, they were given promises. Today, those promises remain as hollow as the empty granaries in many Adivasi homes.
The core grievances remain painfully unchanged:
The Right to Exist: Real implementation of the Forest Rights Act (FRA), 2006.
A Paper for the Soil: Legal title deeds for the land they have farmed for centuries.
A Shield Against Shadows: Protection from the looming threat of displacement by corporate interests.
A Sea of Red and Saffron
From Palghar to Nashik, the mobilization has swelled into a human tide. Despite the grueling physical toll, the marchers remain disciplined. Mothers carry infants; the elderly lean on bamboo staffs. They aren't just walking; they are carrying the weight of an entire community’s survival.
CPI(M) leader Ashok Dhawale made the stakes clear: the march will not break until the Maharashtra Chief Minister listens—not just to a delegation, but to the collective heartbeat of the thousands on the road.
As the sun sets on this Republic Day, the "Long March" continues. The lights of Mumbai glitter in the distance, a stark contrast to the dark forest paths these families call home. They walk because they must, proving that in the world's largest democracy, the most powerful statement of faith in the Constitution is sometimes found in the blisters of those who refuse to let its promises die.
