Many parts of Ukhrul, Kamjong, and Manipur as a whole have become victims of ongoing conflict. This is an internationally known conflict where people hardly know what the truth is anymore, as fabricated narratives and distorted truths are widely circulated. I would like to address all the difficulties the common people living in the conflict zone have faced.
The ongoing conflict, which some still claim started as a scuffle between individuals, was never about individuals. Many more villages have been attacked, and my village has been a victim since the first days of the conflict. Every minute after that was no longer normal. Life turned into constant fear. Our fathers and brothers stand in the frontline between life and death, defending their own with nothing but courage. They wait. They watch. Somewhere unseen, a sniper waits for movement, knowing that one wrong move could be their last. They spend their hours not living, but guarding land, children, and memory. Army personnel are often seen guarding with sophisticated weapons while civilians come under attack. Our mothers guard our homeland with nothing but torches in their hands while armed personnel try to force their way into our villages. Silence is not peace anymore. It is fear holding its breath.
Each night was a nightmare. We could not even switch on lights because bullets could pierce our walls. Gunfire became our normal routine. From early morning to late night, from church services to worship gatherings, it was full of gunfire. Our mothers would wake before dawn to prepare food for the volunteers at the frontline, only to be ridiculed as the frontline workers are constantly under sniper fire at every movement. One head seen could mean one life ended. I wonder how many more helpless lives might be lost because our roads are inaccessible. How many more must be robbed and abducted just to move through their own homeland? How long must our brothers at the frontline suffer in heat and rain, fighting hunger and the threat of death at the same time?
The fields that once fed us now stand abandoned because stepping into them could cost a life. Farming was survival, and now even survival feels forbidden. Crops rot in the fields while hunger grows inside homes. Trade has collapsed. What was planted with hope is now wasted in fear. How many must stand in their own fields wondering if they will live or die? While all this happens, those in power take what little the common people have. And still, people wait for roads to open, for help to arrive, for something to shift. Mothers move with babies tied to their backs, not out of tradition, but ready to run at the first sound of danger. Childhood is learning how to hide. Adulthood is learning how to endure. And still, it feels like those in power take more than they give. Leaders speak, but people bleed. Governments watch, but only from a distance where their own remain untouched.
I live far away, but distance is a lie. Nights are restless. Lights stay off, not by choice, but by instinct. Even here, the echoes do not leave me. They sit in my chest, loud and constant. Students like me are trapped in another kind of fear. Should we go back because our families cannot afford to keep us away? Or stay and study, knowing every day we are a burden someone else is carrying? How long can we remain away from home while every livelihood has been paused? Every message I receive pulls me back. I try to study, but reality interrupts. The news gets worse.
Let the women and children evacuate to safety, they say. But how many mothers can leave their husbands, sons, and brothers? Where shall we go? How long can another family carry us? And back there, how long can those at the frontline keep standing? Do we wait until they collapse one by one, until no one is left to hold the line? Roads stay blocked. Medical help is distant. Too many lives depend on luck instead of systems. How many must be taken before peace is considered enough? How many bullets before silence finally becomes peace?
Festivals come, but what do they mean now? Celebration is hollow when survival is uncertain. Are victims from certain villages not counted as citizens of this tribe? Are they not your brothers and sisters? How can you still sleep soundly and dream of celebrations while people defend their land? And those meant to protect us, where do we stand in their sight? Are we seen, or just counted later? How long do our guards remain in bunkers, holding on with hunger and hope alone? How much can donations rebuild? How much relief can reach people who have already lost too much? I ask again what remains unanswered: Whose war is this that we are fighting?
What we endured daily reached a breaking point.
THE EASTER SUNDAY ATTACKS: A NEW DEPTH OF TERROR
This long suffering took an even darker turn on Easter Sunday, April 5, 2026. According to verified reports and village statements, a coordinated assault was launched against my village, Thoyee (Thawai), and neighboring Sharkaphung. Heavy gunfire began around 6:30 PM, directed from Shangkai and Zalenbung Kuki village areas. Drones hovered overhead. The attack lasted for hours, until approximately 10:30 PM. Throughout the night, the firing continued. Multiple residential houses in my village were struck by bullets, mine was one of them. We did not retaliate.
On the morning of April 6, the aggression resumed. Kuki militants attacked Sanakeithel village around 10:30 AM. A thermal drone was sighted over my village Thawai/Thoyee. A bomb exploded near Litan police station. The firing continued intermittently through April 7. In desperation, the womenfolk of my village opposed the entry of security forces into our area, citing “unfair” treatment. The Village Authority decided to bar external forces until the situation was resolved.
The use of thermal drones marks a dangerous militarisation of the conflict. The Tangkhul Naga Long (TNL) has publicly stated that such technology “places innocent lives at grave risk.”
Why is Thawai being targeted by the forces? Last night (April 5), my village was under fire for hours. Today, instead of chasing the militants at the source, the security forces want to “comb” Thawai. Why are the victims being searched while the aggressors are ignored? Why is there no operation in Shangkai Kuki village from where the firing started? We do not oppose the law. We oppose partiality.
There is deep concern over the failure of army personnel to act justly. Repeated incidents have led many villagers to question whether the forces are biased. The forces stationed between the Kuki and the Tangkhul have witnessed that the firings have repeatedly been reported to be initiated by armed Kuki personnel, while Tangkhuls hardly fire back. Yet they conduct combing operations only in selected areas. Women were assaulted while trying to defend our land. I speak as someone who has witnessed their suffering. This is a violation of the Manipur (Village Authorities in Hill Areas) Act, 1956, which vests jurisdiction over village affairs in the Village Authority. The security forces’ unilateral action is an assault on the legal and administrative rights of my village. This is discrimination. It is a violation of human rights. Does being an army personnel give them the right to beat anyone they come across? I ask the government to take action against whosoever is responsible and let justice prevail.
WHEN PROTECTORS BECOME ASSAILANTS
As if the militant attacks were not enough, on April 7, 2026, at S. Laho (Leingangching) in Ukhrul district, Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) personnel brutally assaulted a Tangkhul Naga woman. According to the Tangkhul Shanao Long (Tangkhul Women’s League), she was raising her voice for peace. The TSL condemned the assault, stating that “the unlawful use of force against anyone, particularly women who are raising their voice for peace is a serious violation of human rights.” The TSL demanded immediate suspension and criminal proceedings against the personnel involved, noting that “this incident not only undermines public trust in the central armed forces but it also becomes a source of fear.”
The All Naga Students’ Association, Manipur (ANSAM) has also alleged that “security forces have unlawfully conducted operations in Naga areas dismantling the traditional Naga village bunkers and repeatedly tortured the Naga women folks who were guarding and advocating for peace.”
This is not an isolated case. It is a pattern. It feels like we are caught between two forces. One attacks from the outside. The other betrays from within.
A STUDENT’S PLEA TO THOSE WHO STILL CAN ACT
There is still a quiet hope in me that our leaders, our government, are working for us, trying to bring something good out of this situation. I want to believe that. But that hope is fading, slowly and steadily. Act now, before what remains of people’s faith is extinguished.
I am just a student. I do not have the answers my elders might carry. I do not see the plans leaders claim to have. But I beseech urgent intervention for peace from our CSOs, the Government, and the Central Forces, before more lives are put at risk and before the trauma deepens.
All I see is a question that will not leave: How long must such suffering continue, and what future can grow from it? Do you want the sons and daughters of the soil to be timid and leave a history of shame? How long shall we carry this trauma?
I do not want my children to learn what I learned. I do not want their childhood to be a lesson in hiding. I want them to plant without fear. To sleep with lights on. To celebrate festivals without hearing gunfire.
That future is still possible. But only if leaders stop speaking and start acting.
The blood is on the ground. The question is: whose hands will clean it?
Shirinmi Athary
julainlongvahnao@gmail.com
(The views and opinions in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official stance of Rural Post)
