More than two months after a communal clash broke out between two of Manipur’s prominent communities, the Meiteis and Kukis, there are still few signs of this agonising crisis drawing to a close. Sporadic and fatal gun violences are still reported in the foothills, ensuring that the dangerous atmosphere of bitter antagonism and mistrust between the two communities remains unextinguished, and with it the potential for raging infernos to break out again.
It is obvious the state government is clueless on how to proceed and resolve the crisis. Intriguingly so, the Centre apparently lacks the commitment to end this distressing stalemate in Manipur despite flying in thousands of security personnel. The deafening silence of Prime Minister Narendra Modi—who did not even extend a single word of consolation vis-à-vis Manipur’s excruciating trauma—is beginning to be seen by many as an added insult to injury. And this injury is slowly turning into a cynicism which can have lasting consequences. Before the Manipur violence broke out, the insurgency was on a decline. But with the latest bloody developments, both groups could see their ranks swell.
While Kuki militant organisations are not officially banned and 25 of them have formally entered what is known as the Suspension of Operations (SoO) agreement with both the Central and state governments, all Meitei insurgent groups are banned and none has agreed to come to the negotiation table so far. With their support bases waning, the latter were increasingly getting marginalised. If the current crisis is not handled well, either or both of these groups can rise again.
In the meantime, two events in Imphal grabbed headlines. One was a two-day visit starting June 29 of Congress leader Rahul Gandhi to the state, and the other was the spectacle of the BJP Chief Minister N Biren Singh first making known his intent to resign and then retracting it after his supporters blocked his way to the Raj Bhavan. He also allowed his supporters to theatrically tear up his resignation letter in a televised event that happened right in the middle of the road.
Under normal circumstances, the proximity of the two events would have gone unnoticed, but these are certainly not normal times. Moreover, there were also too many coincidences. Gandhi’s trip, self-admittedly, had nothing to do with politics and was prompted just by his desire to share the pain of the people of Manipur, in particular those displaced by the violence. To reiterate this, he held no press conferences, though the press did cover his visit.
In the afternoon of June 29, after arriving in Imphal by a chartered flight, he and his team, including local Congress leaders, left by road for Moirang (in Bishnupur district) and Churachandpur district straight from the airport. But before he could even reach Moirang, he was stopped by the Bishnupur district police owing to possible compromises to his safety, though the entourage had all necessary official clearances. They thus gave Moirang a miss and decided to return to Imphal and take a helicopter ride to Churachandpur instead.
The sorry event, if it was meant to prevent Gandhi from getting media attention, had the opposite effect. Numerous people, notably women, coming out in support of Gandhi to plead for his passage to Churachandpur, not only overwhelmed a few in the sidelines holding placards with slogans like “Rahul Gandhi Go Back”, but ensured Gandhi received very good press as well.
The next day, June 30, the drama intensified. Gandhi visited more relief camps, one in Imphal and then another in Moirang where he travelled by helicopter. He also met with several civil society leaders after this, and in the afternoon, he was to meet the governor of the state, Anusuiya Uikey, before heading back to Delhi.
In a parallel development, hints about the Manipur chief minister’s intent to resign became known from leaks to some media outlets. The resignation was first expected in the morning, but this got postponed, first to 1 pm and then 3 pm. This was about the time Gandhi completed all his appointments, including with the governor.
A crowd of the chief minister’s supporters had begun forming from late morning on the 200 metre-stretch between the chief minister’s bungalow and the Raj Bhavan, but no visible effort was made to disperse the crowd, though this is a high-security zone. When the chief minister finally emerged from his office at about 2.30 pm, he was stopped by his supporters. Among them were some of his cabinet colleagues, one of whom read out the chief minister’s very short resignation letter before handing it over to a woman in the crowd to do the needful.
Many now think the two events are a competition for good press, and rival camps now have their sets of questions. Did Rahul Gandhi choose this uncertain time to visit the state to win hearts and future votes or was it a genuine gesture to show he cares for those in agony? Was it timed to reap maximum dividends from the growing anger on the streets at the prime minister’s refusal to say anything to console the people or to encourage reconciliation?
On the other hand, was Chief Minister N Biren Singh’s decision to resign and then theatrically retract the decision a counterploy to upstage and usurp the positive media space Rahul Gandhi and his party were winning? Why did he not try to avoid the crowd of his supporters blocking the road if he was serious about his resignation? How did his resignation letter land in the hands of a cabinet colleague who read it out to the crowd on a megaphone, and thereafter handed it over to a woman leader in the crowd to tear it up?
The scramble over the chief minister’s move did manage to dislodge the Congress leader from headlines the next day, but not longer than just a day. If what happened was indeed a game of political publicity stunts, the question that remains after the media storm is: what tangible purpose did it serve? It has done nothing towards ameliorating the state of uncertainty those caught in the violence live in. Villagers in the foothills are still living in fear of becoming casualties, just as the estimated 45,000 who are living in relief camps are still in a state of despair, staring into a future for themselves and their children that only gets dimmer by the day.
Pradip Phanjoubam
Imphal Review of Arts and PoliticsEditor,