Pieces of Manipur trickled down into neighbouring Mizoram through the Kukis who’d been internally displaced in Manipur. Their stories were understandably quite hostile against the Meiteis.
I landed at the Silchar airport on May 28, 2023, on my way to Aizawl. I was in a state of dilemma as Aunt Rosemary came to pick me up from the airport. Life in Mizoram seemed like a choice I made with irreversible consequences because the Manipur valley was now suddenly inaccessible to me. My maternal grandparents treated me affectionately and my grandfather was an intelligent man who seemed quite pragmatic. Some of our conversations would delve into aspects like fixing accountability for all that was happening, and I could feel a glimmer of hope. Here was someone who didn’t look at the Meiteis with blatant disgust.
Back in Manipur, my parents supported us by running a small store we had in a Kuki dominated locality in Imphal. Amid the communal violence, we too received threats of vandalism. The building that our store was in was owned by Kukis, so we had to vacate it. Now that my parents had lost their livelihoods, the responsibility to support our family was entirely on me. I took up a second job (other than the content writing one I already had) as a home tutor in Kolasib town, where I would walk kilometers between home and my student’s residence. On the streets, I’d cover my face with a mask fearing people might recognize me as a Meitei and persecute me. It was a harrowing experience to walk past posters and banners that shamed the Meiteis.

A glimpse of Aizawl. Photo credit: Saki
At this time, news in Mizoram was replete with stories about the conflict in Manipur. The people here were deeply intrigued by the violence. One day, on my way to another town to visit my relatives, the taxi driver played a video of the violence in Manipur. A conversation broke out between the driver and the passengers. The driver spewed hatred against the Meiteis – how heartless, soulless and godless they were. One passenger looked me straight in the eye and said that the Meiteis are just like the Japanese Yakuza (a transnational organized crime syndicate originating in Japan), and I smirked.
The Internet ban in Manipur also meant that the news coming out from the state was inadequate, feeding into the hunger and curiosity of the people to know more. This had serious repercussions because the information was often polarized, in turn generating more animosity against the Meiteis.
After the outrageous video of two women being paraded naked by a mob in Manipur went viral in July 2023, some civil society groups in Mizoram decided to cleanse the state of any remaining Meiteis. I still remember finding this completely senseless because indeed, there were still a few Meiteis in the state, but they were mostly Meiteis from Assam, not Manipur. Then again, not all Kukis are from Myanmar, neither are all of them illegal immigrants, but here we are – insanity!
Even Grandpa was furious at the Meiteis at this point and called his younger brother who lived in Churachandpur in southern Manipur and expressed his anger. Suddenly realizing that I was right beside him, he said that I was not a Meitei but a Mizo to reinforce his love for me while finally letting me know that there was no place for a Meitei person in his household. I could not stop thinking about the prejudice that he now adamantly proclaimed. Unable to come to terms with the bigotry in a space I was calling home and reckoning that it would be impossible to look at my grandfather and feel free, I decided to leave and live alone in a rented house.
I moved to a village called Rengtekawn near the Assam border around the middle of July. I lived in my aunt’s building which was overflowing with new tenants, all Kuki conflict survivors from Manipur. We all shared the sentiment of having lost our homes. There was an instance when I heard my neighbour’s young Kuki child hum a Meitei song Meikhu. It broke my heart. It reminded me about the sad irony of the situation – none of the conflict survivors could speak Mizo, they only knew Meitei. However, I had to hide the fact that I was also from Manipur and could perfectly understand Meitei.
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A scene of Moirang. Photo credit: Saki
It was already August, and I was facing immense financial difficulties because I’d lost my job as a home tutor. I had to find a way to sustain myself. I would overbearingly tell my parents to focus on themselves and that I’d continue sending them money because my father had a minor stroke and was hospitalized. My boyfriend took care of my parents during this excruciating period, and I felt immensely relieved. I was also elated to know that Internet access through Wi-Fi was now restored in Manipur. I wished to return as soon as possible, but there was a catch – we didn’t have a Wi-Fi connection at home, and I needed uninterrupted Internet access to continue my writing job. I tried to buy a Wi-Fi system before returning to Manipur, but there was a supply shortage because of huge demand and the installation was extremely overpriced. I still agreed to pay whatever the sum was and began saving for my return flight.
Since I couldn’t find work as a tutor where I now lived, I started working in a nearby stone quarry chipping boulders for nine hours a day for nearly a month. To make ends meet, I put my cooking prowess to the test by also selling cooked meals for labourers along a highway. A part of me still feels that same uncertainty I felt then. Sadness maybe? Embarrassment? Or maybe it’s the fact that sometimes my hands would swell, and blisters would appear on my palms. Either way, I had to survive and so I did what I had to. My plight though was not worse than that of the Kuki families who also toiled away at chipping the stones – sometimes even their young children would join in. At night, I’d go back to my room and just cry.
I finally saved up a good sum and planned to return to Manipur directly from Aizawl. There was so much heartbreak as I looked back at my stay in Mizoram – there had been much beauty amid the chaos. Before I left, I offered a small sum of money to my Kuki neighbours. They too were from Imphal, and their mother was battling cancer. The old woman thanked me and said, “God be with you till we meet again.” This moment made everything that I’d been through worth it for I was filled with purpose and love.
On my last day in Mizoram, I walked through the lanes and by-lanes of Aizawl. I imagined my birth mother walking through the same lanes and climbing the same stairs. She had once lived in the city as a young girl. How I missed her!
I returned to Manipur after four months at the end of September. When I landed at Imphal, my boyfriend and little brother were waiting to receive me. Everything seemed so promising again. I reached home and after I’d offered everyone gifts and souvenirs which I’d bought for them, I headed down south to Moirang where my friend Kumam Davidson was waiting for me. We’d spoken over the phone a few days earlier regarding what we could do when we met again.
We envisioned assisting the people living in the relief camps set up for the internally displaced. Matai Society had already initiated relief work, but still required a lot of assistance. Davidson believed in my ability to write. I hold his faith very dear to me and I’m eternally grateful to him.
One would think I needed a break after all that I’d been through, but I felt right at home in the relief camps. The time spent in the relief camps was possibly the most special in my life. I began working as a volunteer and then as part of Matai Society’s trauma response team. There was so much friendship that blossomed during this time and faith in myself too.
Manipur’s fate might be tragic, but the solidarity I found through the relief work uplifted me. It stopped me from questioning my worth. Now, I realize that not only am I valid as an individual but I’m also valuable. So is all human life, and the sentiments we feel to make this world a better place. I am right where I should be.
Concluded.
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The author is engaged in relief work being carried out by NGO Matai Society in the Bishnupur district of Manipur (see inset above). Matai Society is a woman, queer and trans-led registered society based in Moirang town in Bishnupur district, and works with youth on SOGIESC, education, health, livelihood, and environmental issues.
If you want to support Matai Society’s relief work, monetary donations can be sent to them via Octave Foundation. Donations in kind can be couriered or dropped off at the Matai Society premises in Moirang. Matai Society is also in touch with other civil society groups carrying out relief work in different districts of Manipur and can connect interested donors to these groups. For more details on how to send your contributions, please contact Kumam Davidson, Founder, Matai Society at 0091 70054 15573.
Visit this page for more details on the Varta Community Reporters Training and Citizen Journalism Programme – Editor.
Read the first and second parts of Saki’s story published in the October and December 2023 issues of Varta here and here – Editor.
About the main photo: Aizawl seen through the author’s eyes before he left the city to return to Imphal. Photo credit: Saki