In Telangana’s Mulugu, containers crack the access code in cut-off tribal hamlets

In the thick of Telangana’s forest belt, where rivers swell and roads vanish during the monsoon, a new kind of lifeline has emerged — one that comes in a metal box. For Allem Roja, a 30-year-old Koya Adivasi woman from Pochapur hamlet in SS Tadvai mandal of Mulugu district, reaching a hospital used to be an ordeal. The local government primary health centre (PHC) is just 5 kilometres away, but without a bridge or a proper road, especially in the rains, it may as well have been in another world.

“Now, with this container health centre in our village, we are able to get first-aid and treatment for fevers and minor ailments right here,” says Roja, cradling her one-year-old daughter during a visit to the facility with mild fever and fatigue on July 31. Following a general check-up, medical officer at the Kodishala PHC, B. Pavan Kumar prescribes her medicines and rest. Everything she needs is provided on the spot.

The container clinic is a modest, prefabricated unit set up in July 2024 to serve forest-fringe hamlets like Pochapur that lie within the Eturnagaram Wildlife Sanctuary. It is the first such healthcare facility in Telangana — a pilot effort driven by local MLA and Minister for Panchayat Raj and Rural Development, Danasari Anasuya, better known as Seethakka.

The initiative has reached far beyond Pochapur, extending its impact to several sparsely populated hamlets and Gotti Koya gudems — settlements of an indigenous tribe originally from Chhattisgarh. These communities migrated here in the mid-2000s after fleeing violent clashes between the outlawed CPI (Maoist) and security forces. Among those forces was the Salwa Judum, a controversial, state-backed anti-Maoist militia formed in 2005, which displaced thousands of tribal families. Today, many of those who escaped the conflict have resettled in these forested parts of Mulugu district, nearly 80% of which lies within dense jungle terrain. But prefabricated container-based centres, both for health and education, are now rewriting what is possible for these long-neglected settlements.

“Minister Seethakka inuagurated this first-of-its-kind facility on July 13 last year just before the monsoon,” says Dr. Pavan Kumar.

“In one year, we have treated around 3,000 patients, including 457 fever cases. We conducted rapid diagnostic tests for 448 people and found six cases of malaria — three each of Plasmodium vivax and Plasmodium falciparum. Only two patients needed referral to higher centres,” he points out.

The facility, which operates as a sub-centre under Kodishala PHC, also handled 12 antenatal and seven postnatal cases. Dr. Pavan Kumar visits the centre twice a week, supported by an Auxiliary Nursing Midwife (ANM) and five Accredited Social Health Activists (ASHAs).

“It covers five villages of Pochapur, Narsapur, Aligudem, Bandala and Bollepalli, all under Bandala gram panchayat,” he says.

A health system made of steel

The idea, according to District Collector T.S. Divakara, was born out of pure necessity as people couldn’t travel even 5 kilometres to Kodishala or 35 kilometres to Pasra town through forest terrain, especially during the rains: “Permanent structures are not allowed inside the sanctuary due to forest regulations. So we thought, why not a container?”

Built at a cost of ₹7 lakh, the structure houses four beds and a small laboratory with washrooms available right outside. It may not be fancy, but it has been transformational for many.

Allem Ashok, a young post-graduate in Journalism and Mass Communication from Kakatiya University, Warangal, and native of Pochapur, says absenteeism among staff at the main PHC in Kodishala remains an issue. “I have filed several complaints with the District Medical & Health Officer and the Collector,” he says while acknowledging the container facility as a welcome change.

“Many of us avoid going to hospitals as we rely on herbal remedies passed down by our elders,” says Kursam Bikshapathi, another local resident.

But when emergencies do occur, the barriers are real. Just last month, a pregnant woman named Gummadi Krishnaveni from Aligudem was carried through waist-deep floodwaters by family members and neighbours to reach the nearest motorable road at Bollepalli. The kutcha road was submerged and impassable. She was eventually taken to the Government Area Hospital in Mulugu in an ambulance.

The incident triggered criticism of the Kodishala PHC staff, particularly because Krishnaveni herself worked as an ANM at the Pochapur container facility. Some locals accused the health staff of negligence.

Denying the allegations, Dr. Pavan Kumar says Krishnaveni, then 28 weeks pregnant, had gone into premature labour in the early hours of July 24. “Our team reached her with help from locals despite the flood. She was shifted first to the Government General Hospital, Mulugu, and then referred to the Government Maternity Hospital in Warangal,” he adds.

He emphasises that as per the Collector’s instructions, pregnant women nearing full term (34-40 weeks) had already been moved to safer locations due to the floods. “This was a rare pre-term case but it was handled promptly.”

Beyond healthcare, the Minister’s container initiative has expanded to include education. Work is under way on a cement concrete road connecting Kodishala to Pochapur, and bridges are being constructed across several streams.

“We got the idea last monsoon,” recalls Seethakka, who belongs to the Koya tribal community and was a former Naxalite.

“I know these hamlets and their struggles; I grew up here and worked as a revolutionary among them. When the Collector mentioned using containers like we had for an Anganwadi in my village, it clicked.”

The first container facility came up in just 20 days. Two more have since been established — at Ilapuram in Kannaigudem mandal on the banks of river Godavari and at Edjarlapalle in Wazeedu mandal. Pucca houses under the Indiramma Housing scheme are also being allotted to eligible families, with 5,000 sanctioned in the first phase for Mulugu district.

“Our goal is to improve living conditions in these Agency areas, from housing to schools to healthcare, considering the backwardness of the district. We are also promoting eco-tourism in places like Laknavaram Lake, Tadvi forest and Bogatha waterfall,” Seethakka says.

She also highlights Mulugu’s cultural importance: “We have the UNESCO-recognised Ramappa Temple and host Asia’s largest tribal congregation — the biannual Sammakka-Sarakka Jatara at Medaram.”

Education in a box

Following the health centres, Telangana’s first container school came up at Bangarupalle, a hamlet in Kannaigudem mandal in September last year. Earlier, students of this government primary school used to attend classes under a leaking thatched roof. Built in 10 days at a cost of ₹13.5 lakh, the 25×25 ft container now serves 21 students from nursery to Class 5 and is equipped with a digital board, solar panels, and basic furniture. “Earlier, classes would be suspended if it rained due to roof leakage. Now it is a proper school,” says former village sarpanch Chinta Chandraiah.

The students belong mainly to the Gotti Koya community, which settled here 25 years ago after their migration from Chhattisgarh.

Students play outside the Mandal Parishad Primary School set up in a container at Bangarupalli hamlet of Kanthanapally Gram Panchayat of Kannaigudem mandal in Mulugu district.
| Photo Credit:
NAGARA GOPAL

Teachers say the digital board, powered by the rooftop solar panels, has improved student engagement, though forest laws still prevent power lines from being laid.

The hamlet has just 37 families and remains cut off during rains due to swollen streams. Teachers often struggle to reach the school. One of them, A. Saraswathi, commutes daily on a motorcycle with her husband by navigating the dangerous terrain.

“Now, we are not scared of snakes or any other poisonous creatures entering the school unlike in the past,” she says.

But Seethakka believes more needs to change. “The Centre has relaxed rules for mining in forest areas but not for essential public services. Without roads, development is not possible. Forest laws should not block electricity, hospitals, or schools for tribal communities,” she says, calling for amendments to forest regulations that prevent basic infrastructure in tribal areas.

She urges that electricity be provided through solar power systems and boundaries be clearly marked for tribal farmland to avoid disputes.

Her consistent push appears to be paying off. On August 3, the Telangana State Board for Wildlife cleared several long-pending development works in Mulugu’s Agency areas, including new roads, a 30-bed hospital in Pakhal Kothaguda (in neighbouring Mahabubabad district) and safari vehicles for promoting eco-tourism in SS Tadvai and Eturnagaram mandals.

A model in the making

Collector Divakara says while container-based services are not permanent solutions, they are practical given Mulugu’s terrain and restrictions. As per the 2011 Census, the population of the district stood at 2.94 lakh, spread across 75,600 families. Scheduled Tribes constitute 29.36% of the total population.

More container schools are in the pipeline, including one in Eturnagaram mandal with corporate social responsibility funds from ECIL. “We are glad the Integrated Tribal Development Agency in neighbouring Andhra Pradesh is adopting our model,” says the Collector.

In these forests where roads are scarce and help scarcer still, a steel container means more than convenience; it means dignity. Where floods cut off access and trust in systems runs low, the container isn’t a stopgap. It is a sign that the State hasn’t looked away. Not a miracle, but a beginning for sure.