In a Banana Republic called Manipur
Pengba Aruuba Eshingee *
The call of the roots grew stronger with the rising heat of the summer.
It has been almost 11 seasons that one has not spent the summer at home. The thought of relishing the sougri kangsoi, peruk kangsu, kalen thabi and the early season thangjing ametpa was just too tempting to resist booking an online flight ticket.
The last time that one had the chance to spend sometime at home was one-and-half years back during the autumn. Hence, there were expectations in the air to see if summer in Manipur was the same as those a decade back.
Well, the daytime was as warm and as humid as before but the cool breeze hadn't stopped blowing. No complaining therefore, and yes those two blankets were pretty handy during early mornings.
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Add to it the swaying green leaves, the red gulmohar in full bloom coupled with the sweet voice of the cuckoo, which eased one to romanticise the birthplace all over again. True, summer in Manipur hasn't changed.
Yet, certain things have undergone metamorphosis which were beyond one's comprehension. As the esrtwhile Land of Jewels turn into a Banana Republic with guns multiplying 'n' times, the life of common people -- caught between the bullets of law enforcers and undergrounds -- is a struggle never seen before.
Nevertheless the resilience of Manipuris are admirable. The auto rickshaw drivers bring their families and vehicles at Hapta Kangjeibung for the sit-in protest, asking the undergrounds--the so called people who have sacrificed their lives for the betterment of commoners-- not to extort money from them.
Wonderful, and it is not only the auto drivers who are the victims of a thriving extortion industry. The contractors, goverment officials and businessmen--they are old hats.
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Come to think of it even a potfam phambi (woman vendor) at Ema Keithel is not spared from the demands. The neighbourhood Bengali grocer, who till one's last visit at home had a thriving business, was a pale shadow of his old self. When a 16-year-old kid came and placed a shining AK47 bullet at his counter, he knew either he had to pay up or pack up.
With the Manipuri film industry successfully carving a niche for itself in the hearts of the locals, one thought of watching the newly released Mami Sami. But alas, the very next day the news was that the cinemal halls have closed indefinitely unable to bear the demand of the undergrounds. They were soon joined by the film-makers, who too saw their business coming to an abrupt end.
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As for develpoment, one cannot say it is not taking place. People who complain the state hasn't progressed should see the number of construction work going on alongside the roads for drainage systems and the incomplete dug outs in and around Imphal.
Get a taste of the dust then only you'll know what is it all about.
The road diversions, the under-contruction complexes of Nupi and Nupa Keithel and the new overbridge (oops flyover) are symbols of development that Ibobi and Co love to trumpet.
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What about the quality of work? One would say no need for reiteration, considering the fact that how much percentage goes to whom and who does the contract work is an open secret.
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A case in point being the newly inaugurated Museology Department of the Manipur University. The black marble plate at the entrance of the department read "inaugurated on April 17, 2008".
Yet on the very first shower of the season in the second week of May, the top floor of the building was flooded as if it was an open space.
Someone has already pocketed the bill but the staff were left to do the clean up act. It seems the contractor of the building belonged to an underground organisation. Seriously, these "selfless" people are really serving their society!
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Amidst all that, news of daily killings by IRB, Assam Rifles and the Army continue to come. The latest is that men are adviced not to venture out from home with even Rs 1000 in the pocket.
You can be killled for the money and later termed as an 'underground' killed in an encounter. The value of life in Manipur has depreciated so much that even a commodity exchange would refuse to accept to trade it.
But you got to live, isn't it? You got to tell your children that they have a bright future. You got to tell them this is the place where they can grow old in peace.
Pipe dreams? Well, life without dreams is far worse than existence without hope.
(Based on a trip to Imphal in May)
* Pengba Aruuba Eshingee, a pseudonym, is a regular contributor e-pao.net. You can email the writer at penbga(AT)rediffmail(DOT)com. This article was webcasted on June 04 2007.
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