By Bhogtoram Mawroh
It has been more than a month now, and the crisis in Manipur does not appear to be showing any signs of abating. Reconciliation will eventually have to happen, but it is going to be very difficult when innocent lives have already been lost, and thousands of people have been displaced from areas they previously considered their home. There has already been a lot of discussion on what might have sparked the crisis and its antecedents by examining the history of the tribal-non-tribal divide in the state. Although I have some knowledge of the historical and socio-political factors at play in this conflict, I will refrain from commenting on it. I believe that during a calamity such as this, where mistrust and the dangers of misinformation are so widespread, dissecting the crisis can happen later. Right now, helping those affected by the conflict and doing all that we can to bring back peace to the state is more important.
I have been to Manipur only once, but I do have a lot of friends from the state, both from among the Meitei and the Kuki-Zomi communities. In fact, they were some of my closest friends during my days in the university when I was pursuing my PhD. When the clashes first started, there were reports of an IRS officer, a Kuki-Zomi, being dragged out of his office and killed by a mob. The news was already upsetting, but the fact that the name sounded similar to the name of a Kuki-Zomi friend I knew made me very distressed. It was only when I saw the picture of the deceased that I was relieved to find out that he was not the one I knew.
Though I had a few Kuki-Zomi friends, I was much closer to the Meitei community. Among them, there were three friends who stayed in the same hostel with me, and we became very good friends. Only one of them completed his PhD, while the other two returned to Manipur. One is now an officer in the Manipur Government, while the other has started his own resort. We have tried to keep in touch with one another but not as much as we would have liked to. A lot of it is my fault since I can be a little aloof. Recently, I was able to talk to one of them, and it was good to know that he was alright. I am trying to get in touch with the other two as well. My ardent hope is that the crisis ends soon, so that I can visit Manipur to meet them, reminisce about the old days in the university, and inquire about their families.
The crisis in Manipur, especially the visuals of burning houses and dead bodies, reminded me of my memories from the turbulent 90s. It was during this decade that Shillong, including my hometown of Nongmensong, experienced a high level of disturbance, with at least two riots taking place. I vividly recall the day the rioting started. It was in the evening, and I was at a friend’s house when we heard the news that trouble had broken out in the market place. I was quickly asked to return home. When I reached home, all my family members were already there. We were deeply concerned about our safety since our house was not very far from the main road. Around 8:30 pm, we collectively decided to leave our house and cross the river to go to the other side where it might be safer.
We all stepped out of the house, and from there, we could see a shop engulfed in flames on the other side of the road. Our family gathered, prepared to leave the house and find a safer location. I held a wait (Khasi machete) in my hand, ready to protect myself and my family in case of an attack. Despite the night not being cold, I remember my body shivering intensely due to fear and excitement. I was only 12 years old at that time, and I didn’t know what would have happened if we were attacked. Would I have been able to save my family or would I have perished alongside them? Fortunately, I didn’t have to find out the answer to that question. The commotion eventually died down, and we returned to our house. The following day, a curfew was announced.
During such tense situations, rumours tend to spread rapidly. One particular rumor that persisted was about the police arresting men from their homes. One day, we heard that the police were coming to our locality. My mom asked me to hide under the bed so that the police wouldn’t be able to find me. I stayed there for a while, but restlessness overtook me, and I decided to make a run for it. Once I was confident that there were no police officers nearby, I ran out of my house and crossed the river. It was then that I witnessed the police chasing some men on the side of the river, near the waterfall. Throughout this time, I was unaware that I was only 12 years old and that the authorities were targeting adults, not someone of my age. Eventually, I returned to my house, where my mother was relieved to see me.
Soon, the situation calmed down, and the curfew was lifted, but normalcy had not yet returned. This was a time when militancy was prevalent and at its height. I witnessed the sight of dead bodies, individuals who had been shot in the head, supposedly for refusing to pay extortion. There were also charred bodies of militants killed in encounters, and stories circulated of bodies being disposed of in drains. I did encounter a couple of such dead bodies myself, although I cannot say for certain whether they were killed by militants or died of natural causes. However, the fear of being killed or caught in the crossfire was always present.
Over the years, things became quieter, although we do experience flare-ups every now and then, especially the recent clashes that occurred in Punjabi Lane. I vividly remember one incident when I was traveling from Langsning towards Khyndailad/Police Bazar. I was accompanied by a friend, and as we walked along the main road, we noticed young men wearing masks gathering and piling up stones along the road. They had removed tiles from the pavement and piled them together in the middle of the road, creating a roadblock. Both of us sensed that trouble was brewing, so we decided to avoid the main road and instead take shortcuts through smaller lanes to reach Khyndailad. When we arrived at the market, we went to a shop to have some tea.
As we were sipping our tea, we suddenly heard the sounds of tear gas being fired. The entire market panicked, and the shop owner rushed into the shop, urging us to leave so she could close up. We stepped outside and witnessed people running in our direction. Our initial thought was that either the police were chasing the crowd or that the mob from Jaiaw-Langsning (the epicenter of the violence) had reached Khyndailad. However, it soon became apparent that neither of those scenarios had occurred. The people had simply panicked upon hearing the shots fired by the police. After some time, the situation gradually calmed down, although the potential for another eruption remained, as a wrong move could reignite tensions. Subsequently, there was the Cheristerfield Thangkhiew encounter incident, which once again heightened tension in the city. Some youths managed to seize a police vehicle and snatched weapons, brandishing them while driving through Mawlai.
Meghalaya has experienced its share of violent situations, but fortunately, they did not escalate to the extent seen in Manipur, where a situation akin to civil war has developed. Had Meghalaya faced a similar scenario where both the Meitei and Kuki-Zomi communities are heavily armed, it is quite possible that I would not be alive today. As a 12-year-old armed only with a wait, what could I have done against automatic weapons? Therefore, it is crucial that Meghalaya does not follow that path. To prevent such a situation, peace must be pursued at any costs, and all stakeholders in society must challenge divisive ideologies before they engulf the state in flames. This responsibility becomes doubly important for those of us who have lived through the challenging times of the past, with mere luck allowing us to stand here today, recount the stories of what happened and speculate on what could have transpired. If the lessons from Manipur are not heeded, it would be a tragedy for Meghalaya, specifically, and for the region as a whole. I sincerely hope that such a scenario does not come to pass.
(The views expressed in the article are those of the author and do not reflect in any way his affiliation to any organization or institution)