When Democracy is Stopped at a Checkpoint

In a disturbing incident that calls into question the very foundations of India’s constitutional democracy, the recently elected Member of Parliament from Inner Manipur, Dr. Angomcha Bimol Akoijam, was reportedly stopped by security forces from entering Kangvai area—an integral part of his own constituency. This act, whether under explicit orders or as a byproduct of a systemic failure, is more than just an administrative lapse. It is a direct affront to the democratic rights of both the representative and the represented, and raises deeply troubling questions about the erosion of civil liberties in Manipur.
Article 19(1)(d) of the Constitution of India guarantees every citizen the fundamental right to move freely throughout the territory of India. Dr. Bimol, an elected parliamentarian and constitutional office-bearer, was exercising that very right—not merely as a citizen, but as a representative entrusted with the hopes, fears, and struggles of thousands. His visit to Kangvai was neither political grandstanding nor provocation; it was a legitimate exercise of duty, born from the need to understand the ground realities of a conflict-ridden region that has suffered immensely over the past year.
That such a visit was blocked by state actors—ironically, those sworn to protect the Constitution—reveals the dangerous normalization of authoritarian conduct under the garb of ‘security concerns’. If an MP can be denied access to his own people on his own soil, what then is the fate of the ordinary citizen? If the state does not permit dialogue and empathy even from within its own democratic institutions, what hope remains for justice or reconciliation?
This event must not be viewed in isolation. It reflects a grim continuum of policies and practices that have reduced large swathes of Manipur into zones of exception, where constitutional guarantees are suspended, and arbitrary power reigns. For over a year, the Meitei population—particularly those displaced or vulnerable—have witnessed not only physical violence but systematic marginalization. Relief efforts have been sporadic, resettlement plans vague, and justice elusive. And now, even symbolic gestures of solidarity from elected leaders are met with forceful obstruction.
Dr. Bimol’s barring is not just an insult to his office; it is a symbolic silencing of the Meitei voice in national discourse. It suggests, dangerously, that certain regions and populations can be isolated not only geographically but politically and morally. In a state already torn by ethnic strife, deep mistrust, and bureaucratic apathy, this sends a chilling message: that the state would rather avoid scrutiny than solve problems.
Those in power must be reminded that a representative government derives its legitimacy not from the barrel of a gun but from the will of the people. If security agencies, either under direction or due to institutional inertia, can override constitutional provisions and block parliamentary oversight, then democracy itself is under siege. A system where unelected officials determine the movements of elected representatives is not a democracy—it is a security state masquerading as one.
Furthermore, the larger implications for civil society are bleak. If an MP is not safe from arbitrary restriction, what protection exists for journalists, activists, students, or even ordinary citizens seeking justice or speaking truth to power? The Constitution is not a document of convenience. Its promises must be honoured not only in courts and textbooks, but in every police checkpoint, every relief camp, and every torn corner of our wounded republic.
Dr. Bimol’s calm and dignified response to the blockade—marked not by confrontation but by principled resistance—must be acknowledged. But his restraint should not be mistaken for acceptance. It is now up to every citizen who values democracy, and every institution that claims allegiance to the Constitution, to demand answers. Who ordered the blockade? Under what legal provision was an MP stopped from entering his own constituency? And most importantly, how long will we allow fear to override freedom?
The moral clarity of this moment cannot be ignored. If we remain silent when the rights of an MP are curtailed, we set a precedent for the silencing of every citizen. Manipur cannot be the testing ground for constitutional indifference. It must become the site where democracy is defended, not denied.