There are lives that shine briefly like fireworks, and there are lives that burn quietly like a lamp through the longest night. Oken Amakcham belonged to the latter.
On 19 July 2026, after a prolonged struggle following a series of strokes, Manipur lost one of its most devoted creative souls. He was sixty-four. His passing leaves behind not merely an empty chair in the world of cinema and theatre, but a silence that echoes through every stage, every film frame and every melody he helped create. It is a silence made heavier by the painful thought that perhaps, with greater resources and timely care, this remarkable life might have continued to enrich generations yet to come.
Born in 1962, Oken Amakcham devoted his entire life to the service of Manipuri arts and culture. He was not simply a filmmaker. He was an actor, playwright, music director, mentor and cultural visionary whose work spanned theatre, cinema and music with uncommon dedication. Across three decades, he directed twenty-nine feature films, composed music for twenty-two films, created more than ninety Manipuri film songs, acted in numerous films, and nurtured young talents through the theatre group The Juvenile Theatre, which he founded to inspire the next generation.
His artistic journey was marked by excellence from the very beginning. His debut feature film Khonthang (Echo) was selected for the Indian Panorama in 1993, representing the finest of Indian cinema. His second feature, Mayophigee Macha, won the National Film Award for Best Feature Film in Manipuri in 1995. His documentary Ratan Thiyam: The Man of Theatre earned another Indian Panorama selection, affirming his ability to tell both fictional and real-life stories with equal depth. Numerous honours followed, including State Film Awards for Best Feature Film, Best Director and Best Music Director.
Yet awards alone cannot measure Oken Amakcham’s contribution.
His greatest achievement came at a moment when Manipuri cinema stood at the edge of collapse. Following the ban on Hindi films in 2000, cinema halls across the State emptied, productions dwindled and uncertainty engulfed thousands who depended on the industry for their livelihood. It was during this bleak chapter that Oken dared to imagine a different future.
Rejecting despair, he embraced affordable digital technology long before it became commonplace. In 2002, his film Lammei, produced with a digital video camera on a modest budget, became the first digital Manipuri feature to be released commercially in a cinema hall. That single decision altered the course of Manipuri cinema. It proved that storytelling did not depend upon expensive celluloid but upon courage, imagination and an unwavering belief in one’s own culture. What began as an experiment soon became a movement, reviving an industry that many feared had reached its end.
Even in his final years, Oken Amakcham remained immersed in preserving Manipur’s cinematic heritage. As a senior Executive Board Member of the Manipur State Film Development Society, he was directing a documentary on the father of Manipuri cinema, Sapam Nodiya Chand, tracing the origins of the State’s film movement. It was characteristic of him that, even while creating his own legacy, he worked tirelessly to preserve the legacy of those who came before him.
His death also reminds us of a difficult truth.
Too often, the artists who dedicate their lives to safeguarding a people’s cultural identity spend their final years struggling against illness, financial hardship and inadequate support. They give the State its songs, its stories, its collective memory and its pride, yet when they themselves become vulnerable, the institutions and society they enriched are seldom equipped to protect them. The passing of Oken Amakcham is therefore not only a personal loss but also a quiet indictment of how fragile the lives of our cultural custodians remain.
A civilisation is remembered not merely by the monuments it builds, but by how it honours those who shape its imagination.
Oken Amakcham gave Manipur more than films. He gave it resilience at a moment of despair, confidence when its cinema searched for direction, and hope when the future seemed uncertain. His camera documented our dreams; his music gave them rhythm; his theatre gave them voice.
The man has departed, but the light he kindled continues to flicker across the screens, stages and hearts of Manipur. As long as Manipuri cinema tells its own stories, somewhere within every frame will remain the quiet imprint of Oken Amakcham—a filmmaker who refused to let the screen go dark.