Even in his wildest dreams, Oscar Wilde would have never imagined that Happy Prince and his close confidant little Swallow (two of Wilde’s most adorable characters) from his famous short story “The Happy Prince” would one day land up in Manipur, a trouble torn geo-political structure in India.
But, they did, the two do-gooders, when they came for a pilgrimage on Earth, they decided to visit a place which has been ignored the most, even when it suffers the most.
As they entered Imphal, the state capital of Manipur, all they saw was Indian armed forces lining on the road, as long as it gets. The long queue of jawans in fatigues and bandanaas, created a hallucination like feeling for the visitors. They are spread everywhere. As if trees of a particular height are being planted all over the place, holding their rifles with great pride.
But what Happy Prince and little Swallow missed the most is the hurly-burly of civilian population, which generally provides the first impression of a place.
“Where are the people?” whispered little Swallow.
Cabbie Suresh, a local Manipuri youth, who was ferrying the visitors from Imphal airport to a hotel, smiled at the question raised right in front of him.
“This is Manipur. A bandh is on, and a blockade at national highways. How could you expect people on road? Everything is closed here. Since you are special, our state guests, so we are moving on the road without any restrictions,” Sunil answered.
Swallow got more curious.
“Is the situation that bad? I know, Manipur is a violence affected area, killings and counter-killings among militant groups and army is a general trend, but never thought life would be missing in Imphal. It is a sad sight,” softly muttered little Swallow.
The desolate roads and closed shutters of shops dotted across Imphal created an eerie feeling. Happy Prince moaned within, and closed his eyes, as tears rolled down his cheeks.
Sunil tried to console his bereaving guests.
“Please, don’t cry! I know it is difficult for a sensitive person like you to experience such a situation. But truth is always harsh, and we Manipuris (as people of Manipur are commonly addressed as) are living a painful existence. Life is difficult here, and we have accepted it,” Suresh elaborated.
In order to calm down the situation, and make his guests comfortable, Suresh turned on the local Manipuri FM radio channel. A sweet female voice crooned love notes, expressing her desire to be in the arms of her man, whom she did not meet for few years.
“This is a beautiful voice. What is she singing about?” asked Swallow.
“This is a love song, a woman longing to get re-united with her lover. Now, you must be thinking, love in Manipur? Is it practical? But, then love has always defied all norms, so does Manipuri people. In spite of everything, we Manipuris have not forgotten to fall in love, and experience the most beautiful thing in nature,” Suresh smiled.
Suresh further cheered his visiting friends.
“Get yourself ready for the evening, I will take you to a party,” Suresh announced.
“What? Party?” Swallow questioned.
“Yes, I will take you to Manipur Sangai Festival, a yearly ritual underway at Hafta Kangjeibung, Palace compound. The 10-day-long festival showcases everything beautiful about Manipur. Be it art, culture, indigenous sports, eco and adventure sports, to scenic natural beauty of our land, everything is at display in the carnival,” said Suresh, as he took his permission to leave, promising to treat them in the evening.
Evening came as another surprise for Happy Prince and Swallow. As always, Happy Prince was quiet, expressing himself only when he felt the most. Swallow took the lead in inter-mingling with everyone he met, opining on issues and concerns of the state, making large numbers of friends on his way.
On a complete contrary note, as whatever Happy Prince and Swallow had witnessed at their arrival in Imphal, festival in the evening was choc-o-bloc with people.
“Entire Manipur has descended here. They don’t get such as an opportunity every day, so making most of it,” explained Suresh, as he guided the duo through the festival venue.
Seeing people, from all age groups—beautiful women in their traditional fineries, men holding their little ones in laps, to youngsters in latest fashionable clothes, everything looked normal now. A smile spread across the face of Happy Prince. He smiled for the first time, after he reached Imphal.
“This is beautiful, life at its spirited best. I love this. God bless Manipur,” Happy Prince muttered his prayer.
But, Swallow was concerned.
“What if there is a bomb planted here? With such huge turnout, the place could be a prospective target for anti-social elements,” said Swallow.
“Yes, yes, why not? But risk is our constant companion. We play hide-seek with risk. Sometimes we win, sometimes risk,” agreed Suresh.
In fact, on last day of the festival (November 30), a bomb went off just near the entrance of festival venue. Thankfully, it was during morning hours, and public presence was very negligible, helping in restricting death toll.
However, a rickshaw-puller who was hired by a little-known militant group to carry the bomb inside the festival venue was killed in the incident.
Next morning, Happy Prince and Swallow decided to take a stroll on the roads of Imphal, to understand the valley better.
Again similar situation greeted them. Deserted streets, closed shops, and few vehicles plying on roads, were enough to give the impression of situation at ground. Human presence was almost negligible, all that was there was army marching on the road.
“Is this a war zone?” Swallow wondered.
“I guess, worse than that. No war, but still fear of a war is lingering on. Fear is a silent killer. It can make anyone go insane,” Happy Prince regretted.
On their way near Kangla Fort-- the seat of erstwhile Manipuri King and former home to the Assam Rifles—they met a child, carrying a bottle of milk in his hand.
Happy Prince and Swallow greeted the kid.
“How are you, little one?” asked Swallow.
“I am fine. Thank you.”
“What are you doing here,” asked Happy Prince.
“I have been to my Uncle’s place to get some milk for my little brother. Milk is very expensive. Everything is very expensive here. My mother cannot afford to buy milk for us. My brother is sick, I want him to drink some milk,” said the boy, holding the bottle close to his chest.
They learnt during their stay in Imphal that due to regular blockades everything in Manipur is beyond the reach of commoners. When in rest of India, a gas cylinder costs around Rs. 450, in Manipur during 120 days of blockade the price went up to Rs 2000. The difference between the “mainstream” India and tiny state in the Indo-Myanmar border is huge.
Forget about its precarious geographical location, or the distance that separates it from rest of India, problems of Manipur is a reflection of neglect being meted to the state and its people since ages.
“What happened sweetheart? Your father?” questioned Happy Prince.
“My father is dead. He was mistaken as a militant, and was shot dead by the army. My mother has no job. She stitches clothes for people, whenever she gets an order. Money is always a problem for us,” boy said, as tears rolled down his cheeks.
Happy Prince started searching himself all over, if any thin leaves of fine gold are still left in his body. But, unfortunately, all his body was dull and grey, bereft of all previous possessions.
He had nothing to give to the boy. So, saddened was Happy Prince, he almost cursed himself.
All he could afford to do was took the boy in his lap and kissed him on his cheeks. The boy bade goodbye, and marched his way towards his home.
As they continued their walk, they came across famous Ima Keithel or Women’s Market, where few brave women entrepreneurs were doing brisk business.
The beauty of the Ima Keithel is that thousands of mothers “Imas” run the place.
At one corner of the huge market, an old mother with her handloom products was eagerly looking for buyers, to purchase her products.
“Good to see you. How are you?” greeted Swallow.
“I am fine. But, you’ve come at a wrong time. The Market is almost empty, except for few of us, opening our shops. Had you been here on any of these normal days, which actually is a rarity these days, you could have witnessed a sight of great amusement. Women here trade and bargain their way out with customers, selling vegetables to handloom and handicraft products,” smiled the mother.
Swallow asked the mother about her views regarding complete lawlessness and almost missing administration in the state.
“What to tell you son? We’re a cursed lot. Our problems are never ending. The 120-day long blockade might have been removed now, but then another blockade will be imposed. Bandhs as you have seen is a daily affair. So, we at times also ignore it, and brave our way to open our shops,” she introspected.
Happy Prince and Swallow then decided to meet someone special, whom they admire a lot. The Iron lady of Manipur, Irom Sharmila Chanu, about whom the angels of heaven also talk in great reverence, is nothing sort of an idol for both of them. The civil rights activist from Manipur who has been on an indefinite fast since November 2000 is demanding repeal of the draconian Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act, 1958 (AFSPA).
As a resident of Imphal, Irom has seen the dance of violence in her state from close quarters. But that day on November 2, 2000 when ten innocent people were mowed down by security forces in Malom, a village near Imphal, Irom could not bear it further.
She told her mother that she had to embark on her non-violent protest, to get Manipur rid from the curse of AFSPA.
Within three days of her fast, Irom was arrested by the police and charged with an "attempt to commit suicide". Since then, Irom Sharmila has been regularly released and re-arrested every year.
She has been lodged at the security ward of Jawaharlal Nehru Hospital in Imphal, where she is being forced-fed through her nose. The security around Irom was too tight, and all their effort to have a glimpse of their idol proved futile. As Happy Prince and Swallow decided to leave the premises of the Hospital, a young man came running towards them and handed them a letter, saying it was sent by Irom.
When the letter was opened, a poem was found tucked between the crumbled piece of paper.
We have lost our paradise/tell the gods of your heaven/to come visit us someday/every day we are dying/ Music has fallen silent on Lai-Haraoba too/ Shiroy Lily does not flower anymore in Shiroy Kashang Mountain/My land is left with only orphans and widows/No body walks on the road anymore/Dogs are scared to even bark/do tell your gods not to create another Manipur on Earth/for human life comes cheap here/falling prey to guns of army every day.
However, nobody signed the poem, so they were not sure whether it was written by Irom (who is also a prolific poet) or someone else. But, truth was spoken in those few lines, and was enough to make Happy Prince cry again.
On the second day of their Manipur trip, Happy Prince and Swallow decided to visit Churachandpur, around 65 kilometer from Imphal. On their way, as they passed through the hilly terrain of Manipur, they came across beautiful hills and dales, with wild flowers waving their path in a sunny November morning.
Once in Churachandpur, the streets got crowded and congested. Small time vendors sitting in various corners of the street with their fares, is a common sight in the town. Right from hot chillies, to dry fish, to trendy clothes smuggled from border of Myanmar, in Churachanpur, shopping is something to indulge into.
But inside the dark alleys of crowded Churachandpur, Happy Prince and Swallow did not expected something as shocking as they got to witness first hand. Boys and girls, as young as 15 years old, were found injecting drugs, smoking cigarettes and becoming part of prostitution and drug peddling, to keep their supply of drug flowing.
Proximity to Myanmar border ensures easy and quick flow of drugs into Manipur. Users are multiplying with time, but who cares, in a place where guns and drugs are the only solace to provide some relief to the complexities of Manipur.
Simon, a former drug user came face to face with Happy Prince and Swallow. Simon realised the two are new to the place and somewhat lost. He joined the two, and walked along with them.
“So, what do you want to see? You won’t get anything here. But, yes free flow of drugs and booze. I was part of the web, but thankfully, has left my previous life,” said the lanky chap, as he handed over his half smoked cigarette to Happy Prince, thinking it would provide some relief to the visitor, after they witnessed dark secrets of Manipur.
Taking his first puff, Happy Prince looked at Simon, and smiled back.
“Would you go back to drugs again?”
“No. Here reality is much more intoxicating then drugs could ever provide you. I am part of this unpalatable secret, and I am not going to run away anywhere,” Simon replied.
Then and there itself, Happy Prince and Swallow decided to tour across northeast India, and its neighbouring countries, to understand the alienated geographical crevices dotting the world map. Perhaps the journey has already started, and we don’t know where they are now.
(Those who have not read the beautiful story The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde, here is the link http://fiction.eserver.org/short/happy_prince.html. The poem in the text is not written by Irom, I wrote it, as part of the blog. I don’t even know whether it could be considered as a poem or not. But, never mind. And, I am not sure whether Happy Prince and Swallow ever visited Manipur. But yes, all the incidents and episodes, in regard to Manipur mentioned in the blog are true.)
