A Nation’s Silence, A State’s Betrayal

The echoes of betrayal at the Line of Control between India and Pakistan serve as a haunting metaphor for what is unfolding in Manipur. After Indian authorities declared a ceasefire with Pakistan, violations followed within hours by the Pakistani soldiers. Likewise, in the troubled state of Manipur, the central government’s proclamation of restored peace has been swiftly undermined by fresh threats—this time from armed Kuki groups who have warned Meiteis against passing through Kuki villages to attend the Shirui Lily Festival in Ukhrul. Despite the state being under President’s Rule, there has been no official response to this clear act of intimidation.
This silence from the Indian government is not merely an oversight—it is a statement. It raises difficult but necessary questions about whether New Delhi has turned its back on one of its own states. The Indian Constitution guarantees every citizen the right to live, travel, and participate in cultural life without fear. Yet, when armed threats prevent people from exercising those rights, and the state looks away, it signals a collapse of both governance and constitutional morality.
When the Union Home Minister recently announced that National Highways and state high ways would be reopened and that peace was returning to Manipur, many believed it might mark the beginning of genuine reconciliation. However, the situation on the ground paints a far grimmer reality. If Meiteis cannot travel safely through their own state to attend a government-recognized cultural event, then peace is not just delayed—it is fictional. The promise of security is rendered meaningless when threats can be made publicly and go unanswered by the administration.
The government’s inaction sends a dangerous message—that intimidation works, and that armed groups, when aligned with certain narratives or identities, will be tolerated. This is not just a security lapse; it is a failure to uphold the very idea of equal citizenship. If peace in Manipur is to be defined by appeasement rather than justice, the future of the state is in jeopardy.
Even more troubling is the normalization of this fear. Manipur’s communities, once tightly woven together through festivals, markets, and shared history, are now functionally segregated. Entire districts have become exclusive zones where entry is dictated not by law, but by ethnicity and arms. If the state permits this to continue, it is not merely failing to protect its citizens—it is actively allowing the social fabric to be torn apart.
No democracy can afford to remain indifferent when sections of its population are openly threatened and excluded from public life. The events surrounding the Shirui Lily Festival should have triggered a firm and immediate response from those in charge. Instead, there is a wall of silence, a refusal to acknowledge the deepening divide, and an apparent willingness to sacrifice justice in the name of uneasy calm.
The central government must now confront the truth: Manipur is still in crisis. The appearance of normalcy is not enough. There must be accountability for those issuing threats, and protection for those who have been intimidated. President’s Rule must not be used as a political cover for administrative inaction. It must serve the people—not their oppressors.
In failing to respond, the government is not just allowing injustice to continue—it is legitimizing it. Manipur is not asking for special treatment. Its people are demanding what every Indian deserves: safety, dignity, and freedom. Until the government proves that it is willing to defend those principles with action and not just words, the question posed by Imphal Times will continue to resonate painfully—has India failed Manipur?
The silence, for now, speaks louder than any answer.