In 'failed' Manipur, celebrations amidst tragedy
A national daily recently had a full-page feature on Manipur, calling it, among others, a failed state. Manipur is familiar with this label, but coming now, it should have a special significance. Above all, the concern is what such persistent negative publicity would do to the morale of the state and its people.
The pride with which every chest in the state swells at the news of their great achievers in arts, sports, and intellectual fields and heroic resistances to injustice by people like Irom Sharmila comes undone every time the state gets a public hammering in the press thanks to its politicians and babus.
The stigma of a rampantly corrupt state, slothful bureaucracy, tantrums of children of filthily rich officials and ministers with their nouveau riche opulent lifestyles, wayward killer policemen, the raging insurgencies most of which have lost the plot in the modern environment, the oppression of counter-insurgency measures like the Armed Forces Special Powers Act, the inability of the political and intellectual leadership to come up with imaginative solutions, and now the government's inability to even take care of a siege of the state for nearly four months, are nothing anybody would be encouraged by.
The ruling clique may brazenly disregard being abused publicly, but imagine the silent trauma students and young professionals from the state in various metropolises of the country would be going through reading about their home written in this manner. Since those accused would not challenge these reports, these young men and women too would have no other choice than to silently absorb the humiliation. Theirs is certainly not a healthy psychological environment.
Meanwhile, Manipur continues to be in multiple crises. It is a wonder it continues to trudge along despite so many different forces violently pulling it in different directions, some with the avowed intent of dismantling and destroying it. It is equally a wonder that the public have remained calm at such times.
But this response is a peculiar character of the place. Those curious about the WW-II experience of Manipur and go to people from that generation for their accounts are often left confounded at the consummate ease with which the latter handled the tragedy. Especially amongst the Hindu Meiteis, who had the hardest time, as their home ground, Imphal, became the target of the advancing Japanese Imperial Army since May 1942.
The first Japanese bombs landed in Imphal on May 10, 1942. Imphal residents were thereafter advised to evacuate their homes, which they did and sought refuge at homes of relatives and friends in the rural areas. What becomes conspicuous by its absence from these accounts is any sense of tragedy. The hosts as well as the refugees in most cases made these life-threatening adversities sound like playful adventures.
Anecdotal accounts in many of these stories also concur on how for instance several people were killed in bomb raids during a khubak eishei (a coquettish song and dance show performed by professional dance girls) or during a community feast or a shumang lila (courtyard play). Even in the times of the most fearsome wars, people continued to heartily take part in entertainment activities, performing arts never lost pace or patrons, feasting continued as much as during peacetimes.
Call it foolhardiness or resilience, but this is probably what has seen Manipuris through traumatic times, of which they have had a liberal share. The unconscious strategy is to shut off memories of these traumatic events from their collective consciousness. The love for the arts evident in these tales has raised performing arts of the place to the elevated position they enjoy today.
This unique personality trait is still loudly visible today. The manner in which they have absorbed the hardships of insurgency, and more immediately, the prolonged economic blockades with little complaint is enough to demonstrate this. Amidst the blockade, the manner their festivals including arguably one of their most cherished, Ningol Chakouba, were celebrated, would deceive observers about whether there is any semblance of embedded traumas within the society.
Perhaps this is the psychological principle of 'repression' or memory shutdown that individuals who have been subjected to extreme trauma capable of damaging his or her psychological constitution, undergo, although in this case on a societal scale. Perhaps this hedonistic exterior of Manipuri society has been keeping its sanity intact amidst all the madness of insurgency and counterinsurgency violence and other coercions.
While this 'ego defence' strategy may be an extreme and automatic self-preservation response, and despite the good it has done, it must be subjected to therapy ultimately for when it becomes a lifestyle rather than a situational reaction, it can even lead to neurosis.
A national daily recently had a full-page feature on Manipur, calling it, among others, a failed state. Manipur is familiar with this label, but coming now, it should have a special significance. Above all, the concern is what such persistent negative publicity would do to the morale of the state and its people.
The pride with which every chest in the state swells at the news of their great achievers in arts, sports, and intellectual fields and heroic resistances to injustice by people like Irom Sharmila comes undone every time the state gets a public hammering in the press thanks to its politicians and babus.
The stigma of a rampantly corrupt state, slothful bureaucracy, tantrums of children of filthily rich officials and ministers with their nouveau riche opulent lifestyles, wayward killer policemen, the raging insurgencies most of which have lost the plot in the modern environment, the oppression of counter-insurgency measures like the Armed Forces Special Powers Act, the inability of the political and intellectual leadership to come up with imaginative solutions, and now the government's inability to even take care of a siege of the state for nearly four months, are nothing anybody would be encouraged by.
The ruling clique may brazenly disregard being abused publicly, but imagine the silent trauma students and young professionals from the state in various metropolises of the country would be going through reading about their home written in this manner. Since those accused would not challenge these reports, these young men and women too would have no other choice than to silently absorb the humiliation. Theirs is certainly not a healthy psychological environment.
Meanwhile, Manipur continues to be in multiple crises. It is a wonder it continues to trudge along despite so many different forces violently pulling it in different directions, some with the avowed intent of dismantling and destroying it. It is equally a wonder that the public have remained calm at such times.
But this response is a peculiar character of the place. Those curious about the WW-II experience of Manipur and go to people from that generation for their accounts are often left confounded at the consummate ease with which the latter handled the tragedy. Especially amongst the Hindu Meiteis, who had the hardest time, as their home ground, Imphal, became the target of the advancing Japanese Imperial Army since May 1942.
The first Japanese bombs landed in Imphal on May 10, 1942. Imphal residents were thereafter advised to evacuate their homes, which they did and sought refuge at homes of relatives and friends in the rural areas. What becomes conspicuous by its absence from these accounts is any sense of tragedy. The hosts as well as the refugees in most cases made these life-threatening adversities sound like playful adventures.
Anecdotal accounts in many of these stories also concur on how for instance several people were killed in bomb raids during a khubak eishei (a coquettish song and dance show performed by professional dance girls) or during a community feast or a shumang lila (courtyard play). Even in the times of the most fearsome wars, people continued to heartily take part in entertainment activities, performing arts never lost pace or patrons, feasting continued as much as during peacetimes.
Call it foolhardiness or resilience, but this is probably what has seen Manipuris through traumatic times, of which they have had a liberal share. The unconscious strategy is to shut off memories of these traumatic events from their collective consciousness. The love for the arts evident in these tales has raised performing arts of the place to the elevated position they enjoy today.
This unique personality trait is still loudly visible today. The manner in which they have absorbed the hardships of insurgency, and more immediately, the prolonged economic blockades with little complaint is enough to demonstrate this. Amidst the blockade, the manner their festivals including arguably one of their most cherished, Ningol Chakouba, were celebrated, would deceive observers about whether there is any semblance of embedded traumas within the society.
Perhaps this is the psychological principle of 'repression' or memory shutdown that individuals who have been subjected to extreme trauma capable of damaging his or her psychological constitution, undergo, although in this case on a societal scale. Perhaps this hedonistic exterior of Manipuri society has been keeping its sanity intact amidst all the madness of insurgency and counterinsurgency violence and other coercions.
While this 'ego defence' strategy may be an extreme and automatic self-preservation response, and despite the good it has done, it must be subjected to therapy ultimately for when it becomes a lifestyle rather than a situational reaction, it can even lead to neurosis.
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