Manipur’s long wound – from operation bluebird to present turmoil

Manipur, a once-sovereign Asiatic kingdom, merged with the Indian Union in 1949 under contested circumstances. Since then, it has been a region where fear has often ruled over hope. The state’s long history of militarisation, internal suppression, and collective trauma points to a deeply entrenched pattern of state violence—an experience that has repeatedly left its people scarred. From Operation Bluebird to the present-day ethnic conflict, Manipur has endured cycles of suppression that continue to deepen wounds without justice or reconciliation.
Operation Bluebird in 1987 was one of the earliest signs of India’s militarised grip on Manipur. Launched in retaliation to an insurgent attack, the Indian Army stormed over 30 villages in Ukhrul district, subjecting civilians—mostly Nagas—to arbitrary detention, torture, and rape. Women gave birth under gunpoint, villagers were forced to carry supplies for the troops, and many faced brutal sexual violence. Yet, despite hundreds of testimonies, no one was ever held accountable. The Gauhati High Court dismissed the case after nearly three decades, citing lack of evidence. It was not just a military operation—it was a message that impunity was the norm.
In the decades that followed, similar tragedies continued. The Malom Massacre of 2000, where ten civilians were gunned down by Assam Rifles, sparked global attention when activist Irom Chanu Sharmila began a 16-year hunger strike demanding the repeal of the Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act (AFSPA). Her non-violent resistance made her a symbol of defiance, yet the Act she fought against remained intact. Her protest was repeatedly criminalised, and she was subjected to force-feeding under arrest for years.
Then came Thangjam Manorama’s custodial rape and killing in 2004, another horrifying chapter that prompted naked protests by Manipuri women in front of Kangla Fort, the then Assam Rifles headquarters. These women, the Meira Paibis, demanded justice and the end of AFSPA. Again, there was no justice. A judicial inquiry recommended prosecution, but the Ministry of Defence refused to grant sanction, shielding the perpetrators behind laws that prioritise “national security” over human dignity.
These incidents are not isolated. According to reports by Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International, hundreds of fake encounters, enforced disappearances, and cases of torture have gone unpunished due to AFSPA, which grants virtual immunity to security personnel. Even the Supreme Court, in 2016, acknowledged 1,528 extrajudicial killings in Manipur and ordered investigations. Yet, the silence from the government has remained loud and consistent.
Fast forward to the present, Manipur is once again bleeding—this time from within. The ethnic violence that erupted in May 2023 between the Meitei and Kuki communities has killed over 200 people and displaced over 60,000. Armed civilian militias roam with impunity. Relief camps are overcrowded and underfunded, while the internet shutdown—one of the longest in a democracy—has kept the rest of India in the dark. Reports of mass rapes, kidnappings, and arson are widespread, yet action has been minimal.
Manipur’s tragedy lies not just in these horrific events, but in the state’s complete failure to ensure justice, healing, or reconciliation. The institutions meant to protect have become sources of fear. Instead of promoting peace and dialogue, the Centre has viewed Manipur largely through the lens of insurgency, deploying boots and bullets rather than policies and people-centric governance.
The need of the hour is a fundamental shift: repeal AFSPA, prosecute all human rights violators regardless of rank, demilitarise civilian spaces, and facilitate community-led peace initiatives. Manipur is not a problem to be solved through force—it is a nation of proud people who deserve dignity, safety, and justice.
Until India reckons with its own history in Manipur, the wounds—old and new—will never heal.