Northeast of what?” That was a question by a youngster from Nagaland, part of a band which had come down to Calcutta (as it was known in those days) to perform at a three-day rock concert in the early 1980s. He was responding to the emcee declaring the band to be “from the Northeast”.
In a column in 2010, Maloy Krishna Dhar, former joint Director of the Intelligence Bureau and one of the most upright and highly decorated officers India has ever known, asked the same question. Dhar, who passed away in 2012, had seen action in almost all Northeastern states (brokering several critical peace initiatives), Punjab (during the Khalistani movement) and Kashmir, and handled several delicate political and counterintelligence assignments during his 30 years in the Bureau.
Answering his own question, Dhar argued that more than 90 per cent of the Hindi heartland and the southern peninsula would probably not even be able to name the ‘seven sisters’ of the Northeast, “where some kind of electoral democracy coexists with armed insurgency and terrorism.” The facade of constitutional unity is maintained more in form than in faith, and Delhi relinquishes its duties by pouring money, administrative assistance and deploying forces in the restive region when required, he declared. “We bristle every time China declares its claim on Arunachal, but how many of us can even name its capital?” Dhar once asked me.
Poorly connected to the Indian mainland by a narrow stretch called the Siliguri corridor or the Chicken’s Neck, these seven states—eight if you include Sikkim—border countries such as Bhutan, Myanmar, Bangladesh and China (most of the Northeastern states have international borders). But poor connectivity is only part of the reason for the resource-rich region’s disconnect from the mainland. The main reason is New Delhi’s apathy and almost condescending attitude towards the area. Ever since Independence, the mandarins in the capital mostly perceived the region as a strategic frontier, ensuring that it was only seen through the prism of national security and allied priorities.
It was only in 1971 that the North Eastern Council was set up through an act of the Parliament for the economic and social development of the seven states. Sikkim, the least populous and the second smallest state in India, was introduced as the eighth member in 2002. But bar a few ill-conceived dams and some roads, the NEC has nothing much to boast of during its 45+ years of existence.
Most of these states joined the Indian Union long after Independence. Nagaland—once a land of tribal headhunters—was formally inducted as the 16th Indian state in December 1963. Mizoram, a part of undivided Assam, was carved out as an union territory in 1972, and became the 23rd Indian state only in 1987. Sikkim officially became a state of the Indian Union in May 1975, and the Chogyal, or king, was replaced by a chief minister.
Arunachal Pradesh, which China claims, is the northernmost state in the region. After the India-Pakistan war of 1971, which led to the birth of Bangladesh, New Delhi reorganised the region and three new states Meghalaya, Manipur, and Tripura were born in January 1972.
Plagued by ethnic and tribal rivalries, migration from East Pakistan and later Bangladesh, insurrections and freedom movements, the region was relegated to the security and intelligence wonks (like Dhar), who hustled to negotiate accords and mergers to ensure peace and stability. China, Myanmar and East Pakistan/Bangladesh exploited and fuelled the unrest, giving shelter, training, and weapons to the insurgents. While most of the secessionist movements have now either been crushed or co-opted, low intensity conflict continues to plague the region.
Demographic changes in Assam and Tripura due to the massive influx of Muslim migrants from Bangladesh remain a sore point, and communal violence keeps erupting every now and then. Nagaland and its neighbours still bicker violently over borders and ancient land rights, and Arunachal Pradesh worries about the increasing Chinese claims to its territory.
But while New Delhi hustled to secure the region strategically and politically, it did not think it necessary to integrate and familiarise the region with the rest of the country. In fact, after the Chinese invasion of 1962, even connectivity and infrastructure were deliberately delayed owing to fears that these roads could be used by the Chinese if they invaded again.
Hence, the people of peninsular India never really saw the people from the region as Indian, and their Mongoloid features often led them being offensively described as “Chinkis” or worse. The government banned the word after the massive exodus of people from the Northeast from Bengaluru in 2012 following rumours that they were being targeted by locals, and people using the term can face up to five years in jail.
But that did not stop Nido Tania, a young student from Arunachal Pradesh, from being beaten to death in New Delhi following an altercation with goons who had cast a racial slur at him in January 2014. Days earlier, two women from Manipur were assaulted in the same neighbourhood. Their fault: “looking different”.
Soon after Narendra Modi was sworn in as prime minister in 2014, the government announced its Act East Policy, or AEP, which essentially aims to boost connectivity and other ties between Northeastern states and Southeast Asia, including Indonesia, Vietnam, Malaysia, and the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN).
While that is a commendable move, it might make more sense to try some internal integration with mainland India first. Unless we accept and bring the region into our national consciousness, that question will continue to haunt us: Northeast of what?
Ramananda Sengupta
Senior Associate Editor, The New Indian Express
Email: ramananda@newindianexpress.com