Nonglik Claire Asem
Imagine a photograph of a child cradled on his mother’s lap, a fleeting moment of innocence captured in a world falling apart. Now imagine that same child, not days later, found lifeless — shot in the knee and stabbed in the chest. This is not fiction. This is Manipur. This is India’s tragic failure. This is Laishram Lamnganba Singh, a two-year-old Meitei boy brutally murdered alongside his family in Jiribam, a district torn apart by blood and betrayal.
And what has India done in the face of such horror? Precisely nothing. Scratch that—it has done worse than nothing. The Indian government’s inaction, its silence, and its implicit support for terrorists from both sides of this blood feud have fanned the flames of violence, turning Manipur into a playground of terror.
Let us call it what it is: the British playbook of “divide and rule” is alive and thriving in New Delhi. The Central Government, through negligence and manipulative policies, has all but guaranteed that the Meitei and Kuki communities will continue to tear each other apart. Why else would Chief Minister Biren Singh be allowed to openly back Meitei militant groups, while the Assam Rifles—the supposed peacekeepers—are seen as allies to Kuki militants? Why else would agreements like the “suspension of operations” with Kuki narco terrorist groups persist while these same groups rain terror on Meitei villages?
This is no accident. This is calculated chaos. If the Northeast burns, the rest of India sleeps easier. If Manipur implodes, the power brokers in New Delhi have one less state to truly govern. This is not just negligence; it is sabotage.
On November 7, 2024, Jiribam bore witness to a horror that words struggle to encapsulate. A Meitei family of six, including children as young as an infant, was kidnapped by Kuki militants. Days later, their bodies were found mutilated, the baby stabbed and shot—a grotesque act of terror that should have shaken the conscience of a nation. But no, it barely registered.
Consider the implications. If this had occurred in Delhi or Mumbai, the Prime Minister would have held emergency meetings, the media would have run 24/7 coverage, and action would have been swift. In Manipur? If it was an opposition government, we would have seen an emergency imposed within seconds. A press release, a shrug, and business as usual.
This is not incompetence; this is complicity. The government’s refusal to take sides publicly masks its real agenda: to keep Manipur divided, to keep its people fighting, and to use the chaos as a pretext for tightening its grip on a state it has always treated as an inconvenient appendage.
Manipur’s story is one of constant betrayal. In 1949, its king was coerced into signing a merger agreement with India. The Shillong Times didn’t mince words when it reported: “Manipur ‘Annexed’ by New Delhi.” What followed was a period of administrative autocracy that planted the seeds of revolutionary self-determination. Today, those seeds have sprouted into weeds of mutual hatred, fertilized by decades of state neglect and engineered division.
The Central Government’s actions—or lack thereof—are eerily reminiscent of colonial strategies. By pitting the Meiteis against the Kukis, New Delhi ensures that neither group can rise against the true oppressor: the system itself. It is the same old game, played with new pieces but yielding the same result—Manipur remains a pawn, never a player.
Here’s the unspoken part: is the government intentionally destabilizing Manipur to clear the way for illegal Bangladeshi settlements? The theory, once dismissed as paranoia, gains weight with every passing day of silence. Displacing native communities—be they Meitei, Kuki, or Naga—would conveniently create space for new populations more pliable to New Delhi’s agenda.
What better way to clear the land for new populations than to ensure that its current inhabitants are too busy fighting each other to resist? What better excuse for imposing tighter military control than to point to the violence that the state itself has fueled?
These are not baseless accusations. They are grounded in the government’s own actions—or rather, its refusal to act. If this sounds extreme, consider the facts. Why has the Central Government allowed narcoterrorist groups like Kuki insurgents to operate under the pretense of peace agreements? Why has it not acted decisively to disarm both sides? Why has Prime Minister Modi not set foot in Manipur since the violence began? Why else would Meitei and Kuki civilians be left to arm themselves, turning villages into battlegrounds? These are not the actions of a government committed to peace; they are the actions of a government that benefits from chaos.
Adding to the horror is the emergence of child soldiers on both sides of the conflict. It is a horrifying testament to the complete failure of the Central Government and the complicit role of the state leadership. Children, the most innocent and vulnerable, are being torn from their childhoods and thrust into a war that serves only the interests of those in power. On one side, Kuki insurgent groups hide behind the smokescreen of ceasefires, forcibly arming minors to perpetuate violence. These children, many barely old enough to comprehend the weight of a gun, are robbed of education, safety, and any hope for a future.
On the other side, Meitei militias recruit young boys, dubbing them “volunteers” and sending them into battle zones where survival is a mere gamble. These children are not warriors; they are cannon fodder, sacrificed to satisfy the egos and agendas of men like Chief Minister Biren Singh. Why has Biren Singh, under whose watch this ethnic cleansing continues, not been held accountable? Why has he not been charged with orchestrating genocide or for enabling the use of children as tools of war?
The silence from New Delhi is deafening, but it is Biren Singh’s active role in fanning the flames of this conflict that demands the harshest condemnation. Under his leadership, Manipur has become a battlefield where children’s lives are disposable. Is this the kind of governance India stands for—a state where the powerful exploit the powerless, where children are forced to pay for the ambitions and vendettas of their so-called leaders? Manipur’s children are not just collateral damage; they are the victims of a system that has deliberately chosen to abandon them. It is a betrayal of humanity, a grotesque mockery of the very ideals that India claims to uphold.
While the power brokers in Delhi play their games, the real victims are Manipur’s children. Over 25,000 displaced children now live in squalid camps, stripped of education, security, and a future. They grow up amidst the crackle of gunfire and the stench of fear. They are the collateral damage of a state that would rather implode than heal.
And what of Laishram Lamnganba Singh? His death is not just a tragedy; it is a symbol of India’s moral bankruptcy. His tiny body, stabbed and shot, should haunt the corridors of power. Instead, it is just another statistic, buried under a pile of press releases and performative outrage.
Manipur’s pain is a stain on India’s conscience. The Central Government’s silence is deafening, its actions damning. If this is what governance looks like, then Manipur is better off without it. If this is how India treats its own, then perhaps the people of Manipur were right all along to question their place in this Union.
Meanwhile, in the “mainland,” the self-proclaimed torchbearers of Indian unity are busy fighting over religious divides, staging conflicts to secure political brownie points. The same people who scream their lungs out about Hindus in Pakistan or refugees from Bangladesh are utterly silent about Manipur, as if this state doesn’t even exist in their mental map of India. Is it because we are not “Indian” enough for you? Is it because you don’t see us when you wave your nationalist flags and chant your slogans about unity?
The Indian media, too, deserves a standing ovation for its brazen apathy. They’ve turned a humanitarian disaster into a sideshow, offering us less airtime than they give to the latest Bollywood wedding or cricket drama. Manipur burns, children die, families are slaughtered, and the nation’s conscience is busy debating hijabs and halal meat. Bravo! Well done, India. You’ve proven once again that your concern only extends to issues that fuel your TRPs or further your political agendas.
And if Manipur is such an inconvenience for you, why not just let us go? If we’re not worth your attention, your tears, or your outrage, then spare us the hypocrisy of calling us part of this Union. Are we not Indian enough because we don’t fit into your idea of India? Or is it just that we are easier to ignore because our suffering doesn’t win elections or dominate dinner-table debates in Delhi, Mumbai, or Bengaluru? If that’s the case, do us a favor and let us determine our own future, because your silence speaks louder than words ever could.
So India, please give us an answer. If you do not care about us, just say so- we will not take it to heart, and will separate from India, so as to lighten your burden. However if you want us to remain in India, then act now! it is time to act. Not with hollow words or performative visits, but with genuine accountability. Disarm the militants. Hold leaders like Biren Singh accountable for their role in stoking flames. End the suspension agreements with narcoterrorist groups. And above all, remember that Manipur is not just a state; it is a part of India. For now- and whether Manipur remains a part of India, depends on how you mainland Indians act.
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Nonglik Claire Asem is a 19-year-old student from the Imphal Valley, Kangleipak (Manipur). She serves as the Communications Coordinator for the Wesean Students Federation and is the acting representative of the Kangleipak Wesean Students Union to the WSF Main Body. A structural and civil engineering student, Nonglik enjoys reading, hiking, badminton, mountaineering, and painting in her free time.
