Imphal

Would I write about flooded streets, sixty thousand people languishing in relief camps, or about peoplewho accommodated me, the food they offered to make me survive or i would rather mention more about sanjit who escorted and accompanied me through the valley and its periphery areas.I lived locals over staying at monotonous govt residences. The sun would rise early five in the morning every day, i read and learned more about the state's culture, ethnic groups, and religion to better understand and decipher the reasons for year long conflict. I spent my days and weekends sitting at libraries, bookshops that offered snippets, short stories, history, poems written by and on state affairs. I interacted with inmates of my homestay, the owners, spent days fixing my thoughts and narrative. For months we saw burnings, villages set on fire, every night flames would rise up to the sky, warning people of the valley, mentioned one. The valley observed its nine to five every day, people were less affected of whats happening in far flung areas of manipur. Slowly and swiftly retaliation started. I ended up sitting at madam saroja's office and discussing all of it from a perspective of government administrator, i survived on caffeine and she talked about the day third, May and when it all started. The regular staff stopped attending their duties, officials decided to work remote or get out of the state. In my few interactions at relief camps, twenty to ten accommodated in a single, grade five clasrooom, fifties packed in a once golden jubilee auditorium of one of the renowned colleges of the districts, water tankers running on evenings, the bed and bedsheet is on lease, donated grains, of all whom once lived in leisure. Churachandpur, moreh, bishnupur and to name few others. The fear of future. 

I spent days at tea shops, momo corners, mandatory bakery hoping, cafes, where girl on the counter smile and shies because i speak in hindi, hindi they call a tongue of the mainland. The land that secluded them on policy matters, internal and external affairs, riots, power, and politics. The other days I spent walking, walking to ima keithel, one of the largest women-run markets or drive through thoubal, kakching, leimrang and stopped at loktak or to hindu temple and understand vaishnavite hinduism and sanamahis of the state. 

I stayed locals, finding places out of flooded plains was a challenge. I stayed with a Christian family and shifted to Tangkhul. Tangkhul, the tibeto Burmese ethnic group from ukhrul district of Manipur. Aunty cared for her plants over everyone. I wish for the sun to rise again, the meira paibis to fight against the atrocities, each leikai to rise and unite for one. 

Imphal delhi was long, terminals and terminals,  cities and states, layovers and halts. I waited for every  moment, counted on every second, read through each page of the 'days spent at morisaki booskshop' to land at indra gandhi this time

 

Ukiyo Bookstore, Imphal

Relief camp, Imphal