Kukis Demand A State Of Their Own

Another political crisis seems to be in the offing in Manipur with the Kukis campaigning for their ‘own’ state

Ratnadip Choudhury
Imphal

Photos: RK Suresh Manipur quietly waits for a crisis to unfold yet again with the 3.5 lakh strong Kuki community demanding a separate Kuki state, a Kukiland, to be curved out of Manipur. The demand is being vehemently opposed by other ethnic groups, making space for another conflict in a state known for its fragile ethnic divide. Ever since Manipur faced an economic blockade last year in demand of a separate district in the Kuki heartland of Sadar Hills, the chasm between the hill and the valley has widened further on lines of ethnicity. The blockade lasted more than hundred days, with the Central and state governments doing almost nothing to end the standoff.

The Nagas, the second largest ethnic group of Manipur after the Meiteis, have been asking for a separate administrative set up, with the United Naga Council (UNC) spearheading the movement. In the Imphal valley, people consider UNC’s agenda as more of a shadow of National Socialist Council of Nagaland (NSCN-IM) demand of greater Nagaland that will include the Naga villages of Manipur, Assam and Arunachal Pradesh. The Meiteis, whether intellectual groups, or the from the underground or the common man on streets, all in one voice oppose the idea and Manipur has already seen enough protest warning New Delhi not to compromise with the landlocked state’s territorial integrity.

The Kukis are following the footsteps of the Nagas. The Kuki State Demand Committee (KDSC) feels that it is high time to protect the land of the Kuki tribe. They have sent a memorandum to Prime Minister Manmohan Singh. “We want to sever all ties with the Manipur government which is trying to encroach upon the land of the Kukis by instituting various incriminating laws such as the Manipur Land Regulation Act. Hence the Kuki people want a separate Kuki state and the KSDC is representing the will and wants of the people,” says K Khongsai, spokesperson KSDC. The KSDC also lamented the Manipur Land Revenue Act as an incriminating ‘attack administration’ to undermine the customary institutions and land holding system of the Kuki community.

K Khongsai, spokesperson, KSDC

The Kukis for long have been angry about the Manipur government keeping them deprived. “Thus the Kukis are compelled to seek a separate state to preserve our land, identity and culture. If we peep into history we will find that Kuki inhabited areas of Manipur made for a separate entity outside the kingdom of Manipur, when Manipur was an erstwhile princely state. The Kuki National Assembly which was established in 1960 submitted a memorandum demanding a separate Kuki state to the then Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru on 24 March 1960,” Khongsai adds.

In a bid to draw attention from the Union home ministry, the KSDC has already called for a 72-hour general strike across the Kuki-inhabited areas of Manipur from 12 to 15 May. The renewed demand for a separate state came even as the Union government is reportedly trying to appease the NSCN (IM) with a purported Greater Naga state.

The fact that the fresh impetus to the Kuki land demand comes at a time when nearly 20 Kuki militant groups, who had once waged armed rebellion for a separate state demand, have signed a suspension of operation agreement with the Manipur government and the Centre, and are insisting for a political talk in parallel with the GOI – NSCN (IM) peace parley that had entered its 15thyear, is significant.

Supporting the demand of a Kuki state, some of the Kuki militant groups currently in truce with both the Union government and the government of Manipur have threatened to pull out of the ‘suspension of operation’ agreement while urging New Delhi to acknowledge the demand and establish a meaningful and purposeful dialogue with concerned Kuki groups. If they take up arms once again, violence might flare up in the hills of Manipur. The Kukis are already haunted by memories of fierce ethnic clashes with Nagas on numerous occasions.

Meanwhile, the KSDC has asked the Union government to find a ‘political solution’ for the demand of the Kuki community in the region for self determination within the constitutional framework of the country while warning of intense agitations in the coming days. Khongsai says, “We don’t want any hand or opinion on the issues of other communities but the Indian government must not distinguish or differentiate between the grievances of the Kuki community and other tribal communities.” In a bid to increase its pressure, the KSDC is reportedly mobilising the issue within and outside the civil societies in the Kuki inhabited areas of Manipur.

It seems it is high time for the Centre to look into a new strategy of mitigating crisis situations in Manipur. Its effort to lend an ear to one demand of statehood is inviting many other ethnic groups to air their grievances, and push for their demands. The Centre should act before the unique diversity of Manipur suffers another blow.

With inputs from RK Suresh in Imphal

Ratnadip Choudhury is a Principal Correspondent with Tehelka.ratnadip@tehelka.com

Zo Indigenous Forum Submits Memo To PM

Imphal, May 28 : Ahead of Prime Minister Manmohan Singh's visit to Myanmar, Zo Indigenous Forum, an indigenous organisation in Mizoram and Burma Center Delhi submitted memorandum to the prime minister of India on the current construction on Indo-Burma link road Kaladan Multi Modal Transport Project in Mizoram and Burma.

Appreciating the PM's visit to Myanmar, the ZIF memo highlighted it is the most appropriate time for India to show its sincere commitment for democracy in Burma while the country is going through political reforms.

It also highlighted concern of those drawing examples from the past where construction and infrastructure projects in Burma have been associated with forced labor, land confiscation, and other serious human rights and labor violations, governments of both the countries must ensure that international and domestic standards are followed in the Kaladan Project and must benefit the people.

Social and environmental impact assessments must be conducted and local community on both sides (India and Burma) must be informed on the possible impacts (negative and positive) of the project.

Search For Quality Mithuns in Northeast’s Mountains

By Samudra Gupta Kashyap

Guwahati, May 25 : Scientists at the National Research Centre on Mithun (NRCM) at Jharnapani in Nagaland have broken new grounds by carrying out a successful embryo transfer, leading to the birth of the first ever mithun calf through this method. Mohan, as the newly-born calf has been christened, was delivered by a healthy female mithun on May 12 after she played the role of a surrogate mother.

“It is a landmark case, especially because the population of this animal is not in a comfortable status. The embryo transfer technology (ETT) that we resorted to will definitely help propagate quality germplasm of this magnificent species of animal,” says NRCM principal scientist K K Baruah. The NRCM in Nagaland is one of the several such research centres for different animals under the Indian Council of Agricultural Research (ICAR).

Similar efforts have been successfully carried out on cow, sheep, goat and horse, but this is the first time such an experiment has succeeded on mithun, claims Baruah. “Mithuns being exposed to the wild have been suffering from cross-breeding as well as in-breeding, posing a major threat to this animal so dear to the tribal communities in the Northeastern states. The ETT method has raised hopes of creating a quality stock of mithuns,” says Baruah.

Others who worked in the ETT team were NRCM director Chandan Rajkhowa, senior scientists M Mondal and Bhaskar Bora, while B C Sarmah, B C Deka and D J Dutta from the College of Veterinary Sciences, Guwahati, and Dr P Chakraborty from NRC on Yak in Dirang (Arunachal Pradesh).

Mithun (Bos frontalis) is the domesticated form of gaur (Bos gaurus) and is often referred to as the “ship of the highland” or “cattle of the mountains”. It is an example of the integration of agro-ecology, subsistence livelihood, culture and livestock rearing. People, however, mostly do not keep them at home, and let them remain in the jungles. They are reared under free range condition in dense forests in a very unique manner, with zero input, at altitudes ranging from 300 to 3,000 metres above sea level.

The last census conducted for mithuns in 2007 had put the number of this animal at around 2.64 lakh, of which Arunachal Pradesh alone had roughly 82 per cent of them. Nagaland (12.6%), Manipur (3.8%) and Mizoram (0.8%) are the other states where mithuns can be seen. While mithun is also consumed as meat, its milk is very rich in fat, proteins and other nutrients, compared to other milch animals. Moreover, its hides, when processed, give one of the best quality leathers.

The NRCM that has been engaged in propagation of mithuns in the region has been working on this project for the last five years. “Since mithuns are largely used as a meat animal, it is very important to promote better animals, which we have been trying to do through preservation and propagation of quality germ-plasm,” says Baruah.

Healthy female mithuns ovulate every 21 days, and give birth to one calf a year. “But since a sizeable population of female mithuns are not in a state of normal ovulation, we think converting them to surrogate mothers by ETT will lead to faster multiplication of mithuns,” he adds.

Comparing ETT to artificial insemination, Baruah says while the latter process only spreads superior male genetics across a herd of animals, embryo transfer technology would now help spread superior female genetics across a specific herd or even in many herds. “Moreover, each of these offspring like Mohan would potentially carry superior traits of the original mother, such as increased weight gain and more milk apart from disease control,” he adds.

Sudeep Chakravarti's 'Highway 39' About Complexities in Northeast India

Sudeep Chakravarti is the author of 'Red Sun: Travels in Naxalite Country' and the novels 'Tin Fish', 'The Avenue of Kings' and 'Once Upon a Time in Aparanta'.

His latest book gives a detail account of the socio-political complexities and ethnic divisions prevalent in the North East region as one travels from Numaligarh in Assam to Moreh in Moreh along NH 2 (erstwhile NH 39) .

The book is divided into 31 chapters. Here are excerpts from the book:

The Day ‘Caman-do' Took Away a Little Girl

Basanta and Ranjeeta are upbeat. It's just after seven in the morning. The day is sunny and crisp, the damp of monsoons a memory. Even the battered Bolero off-roader of Human Rights Alert has stopped its wrenching sighs; the engine growls without missing a beat. To get out of Imphal is always a pleasure, the relief of breathing clean air, smelling it the way nature intended.

The valley, so narrow to the north towards Senapati, opens up in the south after Singjamei as Imphal's encompassing hills fall away. We pass the landmarks, small towns and smaller towns: Wangoi, Mayang Imphal, Sekmaijin Bazar. There's paddy everywhere, some green and young, some ripening with grain. We pass stray huts and picture-postcard lotus ponds, some tranquil cattle, and villagers engaging with their day. We pass the posts and patrols of Central Reserve Police Force - the 109th battalion - and Assam Rifles: there they are, resting along the paddies; at a roadblock ahead, keeping watch from the sandbagged rooftop of a commandeered telecommunications outpost, eyries of India in a place deliberately made alien.

It reminds us why we are on the road. Basanta and Ranjeeta work with Imphal-based Human Rights Alert. We're all off to see Vidyarani Chanu: they for their work; me, because it made me both angry and curious when I heard about her situation.

Vidyarani is 11. She was recently arrested.

We press deeper into Bishnupur district, edging towards its borders with Thoubal district and beyond. At Sekmaijin Bazar, we turn right to follow the gently twisting python of a sluggish brown river, the sun sometimes to our right, sometimes to our left. It is disorienting, but we do know we are now south of Loktak lake. We push in five, ten, 15 kilometres, always following the river.

This place is poor. Few houses are of brick. The roofs are weathered aluminium sheeting, but the walls are little more than mud and thatch applied to skeletons of latticed bamboo - some walls are so worn you can see the frame. The signs for NREGS - the grandly named and corrupted National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme - on walls of houses and shops gradually lessen.

Some walls have signs that urge differently: ‘Get Out India. Long Live UNLF'.

Rushes of jobakusum - hibiscus in rich red, peach, white - that adorn the tiny yards or entrances of nearly every home offer bizarre counterpoint, careless beauty in the face of fear and death.

We are lost in this land of slippage. Basanta and Ranjeeta need to ask for directions after Phouakchong Bazar. We are past a small community of Meitei Pangal, and back on Vaishnavite territory. Some locals have killed a pig, and are cooking it by the river in a pit fired with straw and bamboo. It's a pre-wedding feast, Basanta explains. Children walk and skip towards the gathering, some holding large grapefruit, a few balancing on their heads fruit larger than their faces.

Everyone has heard of Vidyarani. We get directions, and these take us past the village of Khordak Ichin and, after more bone-rattling minutes on a road that has for long deteriorated to an impossible track, to Nongmaikhong Mayai Leikai, Vidyarani's home village. A resident tells us her house is across the river. After half-an-hour or so of shouting to people across, explaining our purpose, a neighbour arrives with a flimsy boat, just planks nailed together. It can take two at a time, crouched low. Basanta goes across first; I follow.
But she is not at home, we find. The house is shut; the worn wooden door is locked. The walls painted a pistachio green show the mud layer through a peeling of time and weather, the tiny raised porch with a floor of mud has a rickety bench to the left. A tattered reed mat, what I know as madur from a childhood in Bengal, lies on the floor. A naked electric bulb, lit, hangs from a ceiling of wood slats and thatch. I step past a bush of red hibiscus to the porch to get a better look at a row of posters placed above head height on three sides of the porch. They are a quite typical mix of religious and Asian School of Sugary-cute. A small blond girl wipes her eyes; the message by her side proclaims: ‘Without you my world is lost'. A buxom southern Indian shepherdess with goats in the background forms the next exhibit. A large poster of the goddess Saraswati follows. Then the door, with a ‘YOU ARE WELCOME' invitation between two painted earthenware lamps, followed by an ageing poster, again of Saraswati, but this time with her sister Lakshmi and brother Ganesh. Thus embellished, the tiny house stands mute to horrors that have visited it.

Vidyarani's grandfather Salam Ningthemba Singh arrives after ten minutes or so to inform us the girl is at school. It's on the opposite bank, the one we had only just left. People were reluctant to tell us where she was, he apologises by way of an explanation, until they had vetted our purpose. There's a larger boat half a kilometre from the house, he offers, and we can all return together. We do, crouched low as before, but without the imminent fear of toppling into water, as Salam expertly pulls us along a cable with rings on it. That is how we finally arrive at Immanuel Grace Academy.

Its exterior has the same rundown feel of the neighbourhood, simple dignity hobnobbing with poverty. Like the houses around, the school is straw, thatch, mud, and tin roofing. The mud walls have posters advertising telecom services from Airtel, the movie Titanic, the heavy metal band Scorpions, the Orchid Textile Centre in Yangon, Myanmar. The rusted gate is welcoming with a slightly relaxed variation of a saying from the Bible, the Book of John, 6:37: ‘The one who comes to me, I will never drive away.' And so, Immanuel Grace Academy in all takes 30 boarders and 300 students from nearby areas.

We are welcomed by Ningthoujam Ongbi Memcha, who describes herself as the wife of the founder of the school; he isn't around. Her description doesn't sound self-important, merely matter-of-fact. We are shown to a room at the northern end of the courtyard, around which are classrooms. The blackboards must have at one time been black, the benches and tables new. A wing houses a decrepit two-storey hostel, with separate dormitory rooms for boys and girls. The room we enter boasts a worn sofa, where we sit. In front is a chipped table of plain wood, on the other side a bed with faded covers. To the right, there's a clutch of oversized, ancient microphones. We're all quiet as Vidyarani is escorted in by a young lady staffer at the school.

Vidyarani's head is lowered. The straight, lustrous black hair typical of her people covers her face. She sits on the bed. She wrings her hands. When she doesn't do that, the hands cover her face. As a comfort, her grandfather strokes her hair. But Vidyarani's hands never stop moving.

As Basanta prepares to question her, for a few seconds I'm overcome with emotion before I regain control. Watching Vidyarani is a wrenching experience. She is the same age as my daughter. She is of the same height. She attends the same class, 6. But my daughter has thus far not been abducted by police and detained illegally because the state is upset with her parents.

The document Basanta pulls from his backpack is a template from South Asia Forum for Human Rights, a Kathmandu-based organisation not - unsurprisingly - on the list of favourites of the region's powers that are. ‘Understanding Impunity,' goes the long-winded title, ‘Failures and Possibilities of Rights to Truth, Justice and Reparation.' Highlighted by the peculiarly detached yet verbose manner in which such documents are described is the chilling and necessary purpose of it: ‘A unified database design to capture human rights abuses committed by State and non-state actors and failures of guaranteed rights and the justice system contributing to impunity.'

The sections are straightforward. The first is to explain the principle of ‘Informed Consent', all too often missing in India's due process across governance and business alike. The next records ‘Respondent Information'. Another queries the details of ‘Searchand Seizure'. Things begin to warm up, as it were, from here.

Was search and seizure carried out with or without a warrant? Were witnesses present? Which agency in a bewildering array carried it out: the Army? Border Security Force? CRPF? SOG (Special Operations Group)? Assam Rifles? State police? UnifiedCommand/Joint Operation? Or, ‘Others (Please Specify)'? The following section pertains to ‘Arrest and Detention'. And the next, ‘Investigation', has a sequence that queries 26 separate kinds of torture, including choking; electric shocks; forced disrobing; forced ingestion of non-edible substances - not excluding faeces; forced to assault and/or sexually abuse members of the family, friends or associates; leg stretching; mock execution; pulling off nails or hair; sexual assault; the relatively moderate slapping, kicking, or punching; stubbing lit cigarette butts on the body; suspension by rope or cord; and the ever flexible category of ‘Others (Please Specify)'.

And, of course, there is Section IX, which deals with the chilling holy grail of human rights nightmares: ‘Enforced Disappearanceand Fake Encounters'.

As Basanta explains what his organisation does, what the document is meant for, Vidyarani hunches, draws in her knees, and assumes as foetal a position as possible for a seated person. I can't any longer see the message on her faded pink T-shirt - ‘Don't believe the type' - or the crucifix around her neck. The toes of her bare feet are tightly curled. The trembling of her crushed cotton capris suggests acute fear.
When were you born? Basanta asks her in Meeteilon.

"Ninety-eight." Her voice is barely above a whisper.

Class?

"Six."

Basanta fills the rest with the help of her grandfather, turns some pages, a skip-to-next-question-if-these-don't-apply sort of thing. He is practised at it. He tries to coax replies from Vidyarani, but she freezes.
What community are you? He asks after a while.

"Meitei."

For five minutes or so she replies to pro-forma questions, gently urged by Ranjeeta and the calm presence of her grandfather. But then she stops, spent, replying nothing at all to Basanta's stream of conversation and query in soft tones, an attempt to soothe her nerves as he traverses the geography of human rights fact-finding. Vidyarani looks now and again at him, then at me. She is terrified, and neither her grandfather's hand, which she clutches, nor the stroking of her hair by Memcha help.

Attempting another approach, Basanta decides to reintroduce himself, and tells her what he is doing and why he is here. He tells her that I am writing a book, and I am not a policeman; don't mind the close-cropped head of hair or Indian face. It helps. She resumes talking; her replies, though still halting, come more clearly. She still keeps her eyes lowered.

The "caman-do" took her away, she says.

What do you study in Class 6? Manipuri?

"Mmm."

History?

"Mmm."

Geography?

"Mmm."

Basanta turns to me after ten minutes or so of taking her through the section titled ‘Arrest and Detention'. Her grandfather and Memcha having done most of the talking. Do you have any particular questions, he asks me.

Yes, I say, many. But first will you please tell her that I have a daughter who is as old as her. Grandfather Ningthemba and Memcha nod acknowledgement. When I go back home, I will tell my daughter about this day, about meeting Vidyarani.

And I want to ask her: when she was in custody, what was she doing, what was she thinking. Did she pray to God? Did she pray for her parents? What did she tell herself to keep her strength going?

"I wanted to see my parents," Vidyarani whispers. Her composure, such as it is, begins to crack.

"Tell, nothing will happen," Memcha gently urges.

"I was very scared." Pause. "I sometimes thought that the police will go to my house when I am not there. I thought if my parents got arrested they would be tortured. I was afraid for my two younger brothers. I was scared the police would arrest them."

How old are her brothers? I ask, hating myself for taking Vidyarani back to the place she looks unlikely to escape from for years, perhaps never, a dark place where her mind now lives.

"One is in class 4," she says, "the other in class 1."

Do you remember where you were kept? Did it look like a jail, with bars, or was it just a room?

"A room."

Were you alone?

Basanta now explains: her two grandmothers were with her. They came to ask for her release, but when that didn't work, they asked to remain with Vidyarani.

I resume: Did the police tell her anything when they took her - when was it? Day or night?

In the morning, Basanta now takes over. Vidyarani has stopped speaking.

Did the police…

She was preparing to cook, Basanta says while consulting his notes, when she heard police commandos arriving. She was very scared. One of the commandos pointed his automatic rifle at her and at the grandmother. Since they could not find her parents, suspected of associating with the People's Liberation Army, they took Vidyarani.

Vidyarani is crying silent tears. Grandfather Ningthemba gently wipes her eyes with a hand, then gives her a large light-blue handkerchief he has kept in the other hand all the while, as if knowing she would need it sometime during the interaction. The little girl clutches the piece of cloth.

She suddenly gets up and rushes out of the hut. The young lady who brought her in rushes after her. Memcha rattles off in Meeteilon, and Basanta translates, his matter-of-fact tone almost formal. "She feels like vomiting."

Memcha talks some more. "She worries that if she speaks the truth something bad will happen to her parents. They are still in custody. So she is afraid to speak."

"I understand," I say; and it's partly a lie. I can understand why Vidyarani is afraid to speak, but I can never understand the degree of her trauma. We remain silent for a while. A young lady brings us small glasses of warm milk.

When did this happen? I ask. What was the date?

14 August 2009. A day before India's independence day. The school was on holiday from the twelfth, so Vidyarani had gone home to her parents. When the staff of the school heard Vidyarani had been arrested, they rushed to her home. Why had she been arrested, they asked. Memcha takes the story from here. She says that when they saw Vidyarani, she was unconscious. They were told she had fainted. Memcha wanted her taken to hospital. The police declined - "denied that," Basanta adds. They then insisted "women police" arrive and, sensing the mood of the people, the raiding party decided to acquiesce. When the police finally tried to take Vidyarani, the people insisted they would first have to issue an "arrest memo". Memcha says she told them not to take the "baby" because they could not find her "mama" and "papi". The police then told her that Vidyarani's parents should surrender. Memcha and others still held on, asking the police if there was any law by which they could arrest a child.

How dare you talk like this, Memcha says she was asked. Who are you?

I'm the wife of the founder of the school where the girl studies, she replied. If you are taking her, she insisted, you should take at least one member of her family, the grandfather or grandmother. She said again that they would all try to arrange for the surrender of the parents, but they should leave the child alone. That didn't work.

How many police were there? I ask.

"It was a combined force of Assam Rifles and Manipur Police commandos. They came in Gypsies."

Vidyarani was released on the evening of 18 August. She first went home. She reached Immanuel Grace Academy a day later. Before her release, the police had already picked up her parents - which was why she was released. They came out of hiding to surrender, driven to panic with what might happen to their child.
What was she like when she arrived at school, I ask Memcha. Would she talk? Would she keep to herself? Avoid other children too?

When she reached home, Grandfather Ningthemba says, now wiping some tears of his own, she got off the vehicle and fainted.

"I've seen a lot of change in her," Memcha says. "When we ask her to do something, even the simplest thing like cutting vegetables, she does not pay attention to that work."

On 20 August they took her to RIMS in Imphal.

What was she like before her arrest? Was she a smiling, happy child? Was she playful?

"She was so active." Memcha smiles in recollection. "She loved to be with her friends. She had a good presence of mind."

How do you see her now, after all this?

"She doesn't like to talk. She doesn't want to talk. She is afraid of other people."

What are you trying to do to help her come back to normal?

"We keep telling her to not worry, that her mother and father will be released from custody some time."
Does she ask often about her parents?

"She keeps asking if she can go to meet her parents." The mother is in the central jail in Imphal, Basanta offers; just behind the main police station. The father is in Sajiwa jail to the northeast of the Valley, on the route to Ukhrul.

The two younger brothers, one four, the other nine, also have changed since their parents were taken away, Memcha tells us. They preferred in the beginning to stay at home; but now they stay at school as boarders. The school is now both family and sanctuary for the three children. The grandmothers visit as often as they can.

The boys arrive then. First into the room is little Sanamatum, the youngest. How old are you? Basanta teases him.

"I don't know how old I am," he smartly replies. Everyone bursts out laughing, and the boy laughs with us.
Which class? Basanta persists, ruffling his hair.

"B."

Nursery-B? KG-B?

"B."

Sanamatum rescues us from gloom; we laugh and cry as our hearts simultaneously warm and break. I turn to look for the other brother, Malamnganba.

"He is afraid of us," Ranjeeta explains. The boy waits outside, reluctant at the calls to enter the room. It's okay, I say, don't force him.

He comes in anyway after a few moments. "Class 4," Malamnganba timidly announces by way of introduction. "I am nine years old."

Does Vidyarani talk to you both?

"Sometimes she cannot talk," he says.

Do you try to get her to spend more time with you?

"Mmm," he says, and stops. He lowers his head. "I see a lot of change in my sister. She used to play with us. Study with us. Now she always speaks of our parents."

Then he starts to cry.

Ranjeeta takes the boys out to the yard. As Basanta and I leave after a few minutes, we see them seated on some steps by the entrance. She hugs both the boys, all the while speaking softly to them.

I ruffle the younger brother's head, and for it I get a smile which lights up the day. I accord more dignity to the older boy and shake his hand. His grip is firm.

"Good luck," I manage.

"Thank you." He smiles. His eyes look directly, even defiantly, into mine. There's a sign by him, in the charming grammar of Immanuel Grace Academy. It's another saying from the Book of John, this time 10:11: ‘The good shepherd give his life for the sheep.'

Extracted from Highway 39: Journeys through a Fractured Land, 4th Estate, Harper Collins, Rs 450

Myanmar To Be A Bus Ride Away

Cabinet mulls Imphal-Mandalay service

New Delhi, May 25 : The cabinet is set to give its approval to a weekly bus service connecting the Manipur capital, Imphal, with the Myanmar city of Mandalay.

After the cabinet approval, slated for Thursday, a memorandum of understanding is expected to be signed between the two governments during Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s visit to Myanmar by the end of this month. The service will be available on Mondays only. On both sides, it will be outsourced to private bus operators, though the fare has not been decided yet.

The final technical discussions were held between the two countries during a two-day visit to Myanmar by joint secretary of the ministry of road transport and highways, S. Narendra, on May 10-11.

There were a few minor problems though. In India, while we have right-hand driven vehicles, Myanmar follows the European model of left-hand drive. There are also major differences in traffic rules. So at the border, the passengers have to disembark and board a bus of the other country.

Despite the bus-service, there is no proposal to relaxing customs or immigration requirements. The passengers will have to carry valid passports. They shall be granted a one-month single entry visa on arrival at Tamu and Moreh border checkposts by immigration officials from the respective sides.

Baggage will be restricted to one suitcase weighing not more than 20kg and one handbag of average size. No commercial baggage cargo will be allowed.

Currently, Indian traders are allowed upto 16km from the border inside Myanmar. Myanmar traders, too, are allowed passage upto 16km inside India (Manipur).

This project has been in the pipeline for the past nine years. A resolution was passed by the Manipur Assembly in 2003 to introduce a regular bus service between Imphal and Mandalay.

The government of Manipur has been pursuing the issue with the ministry of road transport and highways ever since.

The Prime Minister, during his visit to Manipur in December 2011, announced that “as part of our Look-East policy, we will suitably take up the request for bus service between Imphal and Mandalay with the government of Myanmar”.

The government also plans to set up a development corridor connecting India with Myanmar. In that case, the service will be important since India and Myanmar share a long and porous border of over 1,640km as well as a maritime boundary in the Bay of Bengal.

Four northeastern states of Arunachal Pradesh, Nagaland, Manipur and Mizoram share their border with the country.

Hmar Militants Flays Mizoram Govt Over Memo

Aizawl, May 24 : The Hmar People's Convention (HPC) General Headquarters, Sakawrdai Mizoram today alleged that the Mizoram government has been reluctant in implementing the Memorandum of Settlement (MoS) signed in 1994.

The Hmar outfit then accused that the intervention of  Young Mizo Association (YMA) recently in the HPC's demand for Autonomous District Council under the Sixth Schedule of the Indian Constitution, has been acting as disintegration force of the Mizos rather than unifying the community.

The HPC said that when Mizoram was given the status of Union Territory under Government of Union Territories (Amendment) Act, 1971 and North Eastern areas (Re-organisation) Act 1971, it had been deleted from  Sixth Schedule Para 20, Part III since 29 April  1972. "It no longer was Tribal Area, which will be regretted in future, and the then Mizo leaders are responsible for this. 

The districts of Lai, Mara and Chakma are the only districts under the Sixth Schedule. All these districts are within Mizoram, and are still administered by the ministers and government officials, and they never separated themselves from Mizoram, nor can’t they do so.

Likewise, the Hmar people have simply demanded the creation of Autonomous District Council, which will but safeguard the Mizos", the HPC stated.

The Hmar outfit then quoted the MoS  between the HPC and the Mizoram Government signed in 1994 which says, “The Government of Mizoram has appreciated the concern and pressing demand of the HPC delegation particularly regarding the political safeguard as available under the Sixth Schedule to the Constitution of India.

Accordingly, the government of Mizoram will take immediate measures for inclusion of an area to be specified with the HPC Demand Area of Mizoram and the other non-schedule areas of Mizoram in the schedule (Tribal) Area of the Sixth Schedule to the Constitution of India so that the above-mentioned areas are safeguarded under the Sixth Schedule to the Constitution of India.”

"After such long period from 1994, the Mizoram government is not fulfilling its promise, just because it doesn’t take steps to fulfill", the HPC stated, adding that in comparison that, the Indian Government was very faithful as it fulfilled the MoS which it signed with the Mizo National Front (MNF) in 1986.

The HPC then accused the  Young Mizo Association (YMA) of disintegrating the Mizos rather than uniting the the community. "The YMA is apprehensive that the creation of Autonomous District Council is threatening the Mizo integration," the Hmar outfit added.

Wife Moves Court Against Hubby For Hiding HIV Status

Imphal, May 24 : A 20-year-old woman in Imphal filed a criminal case against her husband for hiding his HIV status and forcibly marrying her. She has now contracted the disease. The accused, a constable with Manipur police, was arrested and later released on bail.

The woman claimed she was drugged by the cop at a tea stall in Patsoi in 2007. When she regained consciousness, she was told that she had 'eloped' with him. She was finally forced into marriage in January, 2010. Later, she found documents in his diary that showed he was HIV positive.

When the cop found out his wife was aware of his HIV status, he thrashed her and locked her in a room for three days without food. The ordeal continued with her in-laws also torturing her.

She, however, managed to wriggle out of her husband's clutches and fled to her parent's house in Imphal West. She got her blood sample examined at an Imphal lab in February and tested positive for HIV, she said.

The woman told the chief judicial magistrate, Imphal West, that she was forced to marry a man who hid his HIV status and now, she was a victim of the disease. She also charged him and his in-laws with torture.

Human rights lawyer Rakesh Meihoubam said this is the first of its kind in Manipur and second in the country. In Delhi, a woman filed a criminal case against her husband for transmitting HIV without her knowledge, but the case didn't move forward as the husband died of AIDS. Till March 2011, 698 people have died of HIV/AIDS in Manipur.

Manipur Uses Methadone For Drug Dependence Treatment

The Controversial Drug Dependence Treatment "Methadone"

By Thingnam Anjulika Samom

The opening of the Methadone Maintenance Treatment (MMT) Programme - Thingnam Anjulika | Panos London

Last month, Manipur became the first state in north east India to initiate methadone courses for the treatment of drug dependence. The Methadone Maintenance Treatment programme, launched on April 14 at the Regional Institute of Medical Sciences here in Imphal, became the fourth such initiative in India. Altogether, 50 drug users will be given methadone treatment on a trial basis for one year. Previously, opioid substitution therapy (OST), which uses buprenorphine, was the most prevalent treatment.

The new programme has sparked heated discussion among the drug user and HIV and AIDS communities, as well as among NGOs, community based organisations and medical circles, regarding the pros and cons of methadone versus buprenorphine. When I inquired, I was told that methadone is cheaper than buprenorphine, and it has to be used only once a day. But on the other hand, some of the people I spoke to told me that methadone can cause withdrawal symptoms, addiction and overdose.

Another bone of contention is the number of drug users to be enrolled on the programme. The number of drug users in the state is very high but only 50 will get methadone treatment. So what criteria will they use to make the selection?

Another initiative that will help treatment of HIV and AIDS in the state is the Early Infant Diagnosis programme, which was launched in December last year. Before this initiative, parents living with HIV and AIDS had to wait and agonising 18 months before they could find out whether they had passed on the virus to their child. This is because the babies could not have the necessary antibody test until they were 18 months old.

The new programme means babies can be tested between the ages of six weeks and six months. A final confirmatory antibody test will also be done later on but the earlier tests mean care and treatment can be started earlier, giving the children a better chance of survival.

This is very important in Manipur as the HIV epidemic has moved from high risk groups such as injecting drug users into the general population. The first HIV case was reported in the state in 1989 and by 1994, the first pediatric HIV infection was also reported.

There were more than 2,500 children living with HIV/AIDS in the state as of January last year, according to the Manipur State AIDS Control Society. I fear that the actual figure will be much higher because even after so many years of awareness and sensitisation, there is still a lot of stigma and discrimination regarding HIV and AIDS, making many HIV positive people hide their status. This in turn creates a sort of crisis situation for future generations in the state, because if the children are not there, then there will be no future for us.

Source: panos.org.uk