The recent human chain protest organized by various civil society organizations (CSOs) in Imphal—led by COCOMI, AMUCO, ATDDUCO, and other grassroots bodies—was not merely an act of dissent but a collective assertion of identity, dignity, and historical consciousness. The immediate spark may have been the controversial removal of the word “Manipur” from a state-run MST bus by personnel of the 4th Mahar Regiment, but the deeper undercurrents reflect years of accumulated discontent and apprehension over the perceived erosion of Manipur’s distinct political and cultural identity.
In democracies, protest is an essential tool of civic engagement. It provides people a voice when official channels fall silent or turn indifferent. The human chain that stretched for over 7 kilometers through the heart of Imphal was not disruptive; it was dignified and peaceful. Yet, it carried a strong message—one of growing unease over attempts, whether symbolic or systemic, to erase Manipur’s name from the administrative, cultural, and political imagination of the Indian Union.
The word “Manipur” is not just a geographical label. It embodies a proud history of self-rule, culture, resistance, and identity. Removing it, even from something as seemingly mundane as a bus, is not an administrative oversight—it is a deeply political act. Symbols matter. They form the grammar of our collective belonging. When such a symbol is stripped away, especially by a military unit, it sends a dangerous message of control and erasure.
CSOs like COCOMI and AMUCO have stepped into a void that many feel the elected government has abandoned. Their role in organizing community-led resistance becomes even more crucial when state institutions appear compromised, absent, or aligned with central policies perceived to be hostile to the state’s interests. Their response has been measured, constitutional, and people-driven—characteristics essential to a functioning democracy.
Furthermore, the demands raised during the protest were not inflammatory. They called for accountability from senior officials, including the DGP, Chief Secretary, and Governor, alleging their complicity in or indifference to actions that many see as anti-Manipur. These are legitimate concerns that deserve a transparent response, not dismissal.
It is also important to understand the protest in the broader context of current tensions in Manipur. Since May 2023, the state has been engulfed in a humanitarian and political crisis marked by violence, displacement, and institutional paralysis. In such times, symbols of unity and identity become even more important for a people fighting to preserve their sense of belonging amidst chaos.
The narrative that Manipur’s protests are anti-national must be rejected. There is nothing anti-national about defending one’s heritage, name, or rights within the framework of the Indian Constitution. If anything, such protests reaffirm faith in democratic values, showing that people still believe in civic action as a means of redress. To criminalize or delegitimize this would be to silence democracy itself.
At a time when Manipur is striving to recover from a prolonged crisis, the central government must listen rather than suppress, understand rather than impose. The act of protest is not against the nation—it is against policies and actions that alienate, marginalize, and diminish the voice of a people. The human chain was a symbolic act of unity—a line that said, “We are here. We matter. We will not be erased.”
The message from Imphal is clear: the people of Manipur will not allow their identity to be tampered with, whether through careless oversight or deliberate policy. The least the government can do is listen—before the silence of neglect turns into something far more irreversible.