A public transport bus marked with the name “Manipur” was recently stopped by personnel of the Mahar Regiment on its way to the Shirui Festival. Passengers were denied passage without any formal explanation. The incident has drawn strong reactions from the press and civil society organisations, eventually leading to a bandh. What unfolded on the road to a state-sponsored festival raises serious questions about the state’s ability—and willingness—to ensure the free movement of its own citizens.
The idea that a civilian bus could be turned back simply because it bore the word “Manipur” is disturbing. This is not a case of a routine security check or logistical miscommunication. Jawans on patrol do not make such decisions independently. Orders come from higher levels. Their action sends a message: certain symbols, names, or affiliations are not acceptable in some areas, even if they belong to the same state. If public transport is no longer neutral, if it can be stopped because of its identity, then Manipur’s territorial and civic integrity is being quietly eroded.
Even more troubling is the implication behind such actions: that the state cannot or will not ensure safety for citizens travelling through certain districts unless it is under special circumstances. And what were those circumstances this time? A festival. The same state that cannot guarantee basic movement for its displaced citizens was able to mobilise enough security to host Shirui Festival. If that is what it takes for travel to become possible, maybe more festivals should be organised in Senapati or Kangpokpi—just so buses can pass without obstruction.
The situation calls attention to a deeper problem. The internally displaced—still living in camps, still without homes—found no mention, no invitation, no representation in this year’s Shirui Festival. They were neither participants nor guests. Their absence is not an oversight; it reflects the selective nature of the event’s outreach. A festival meant to project unity cannot do so by ignoring those most affected by the conflict. If they cannot be included in something as symbolic as a state festival, what chance is there of addressing their long-term resettlement?
Civil society’s response, including the call for a bandh, is not an attack on the festival itself. It is a protest against the selective functioning of state institutions. If roads can be made safe for guests and performers, they can also be made safe for ordinary travellers. But that choice is not being made.
The incident on the way to Shirui Festival has exposed more than a single act of restriction. It shows a broader pattern—where movement, identity, and even safety are being managed through informal lines of exclusion. This cannot become the new normal. A functioning state cannot depend on festivals to create zones of peace and access. It must ensure these as basic rights, every day, for everyone.