"Had not the Kuki mother warned me, I might have..."
Source: Chronicle News Service / Thounaojam Brojendro Singh
Imphal, August 03 2023:
"Had not the aged Kuki mother warned me, I might have never met my family and...," said Maiten, who was visibly shaken on remembering how close he and co-workers were to their ultimate end as the violence erupted on the very next day after they left Churachandpur district following the warning of the Kuki woman.
In the quietude of Koutruk Makha Leikai, where life's struggles intertwine with the whispers of generations past, Thangjam Maiten, a weathered soul of 54 years, found himself at a crossroad.
His existence, like the fields he once tended, was entwined with uncertainty, a testament to the hardship etched into his furrowed brow.
As dawn's embrace painted the sky, a dear friend's call pierced the morning air.
Oinam Mangi, who is a little older than me, spoke words that sent a shiver down my spine.
"It has begun here," his voice trembled.
In that moment, a sense of urgency awakened me from my slumber.
Seeking blessings from Ima Leimarol Sidabi and Lainingthou Sanamahi, as well as from my parents that watched over my path, I embarked on my journey, my camera a silent witness to the unfolding chapters of life.
Through days marred by strife since May 3, Meira Paibi members stood sentinel in distant corners, verifying identities and safeguarding communities whenever I went to cover gunfights in the peripheral areas of the state.
However, Thursday morning was a little different as I could not see any Meira Paibi along Uripok-Kakchup road, which made me wonder if the information I received from my friend was true.
However, I got my confirmation when I saw large number of Meira Paibis checking vehicles at Phumlou Keithel area.
As I had visited the foothill areas on multiple occasions to cover gunfights they might have recognised me as a journalist since they did not stopped me.
As soon as I entered the vicinity of Koutruk, I heard sounds of gunshots and bomb shelling.
Safely parking my motorcycle, I ventured towards the heart of the commotion, capturing moments that spoke of humanity 's clash with chaos.
I collected information and took some photos after which I retreated and went to a house adjacent to the local club.
Here, fate introduced me to Maiten, a man of toil and perseverance.
A mere mortal, he bore the weight of five lives - two sons, three daughters - and a past etched in the sweat of laborious days.
For two decades, he had worked as a daily wage earner in road blacktopping projects, contributing his essence to the blackened asphalt beneath his feet since the last two decades.
With eyes that mirrored the weight of countless burdens, Maiten narrated his tale.
The crisis, born of shadows, had consumed the light from his days since May 3.Narrating the hardships he and his family have been facing ever since the humanitarian crisis broke out on May 3, Maiten, with a heavy heart, asked how long the crisis would continue.
Maiten is a marginal farmer, who double up as road construction worker after the harvest season, but the ongoing crisis has snatched away the only source of additional income from him.
He is now facing not only the threat from the persistent attack from Kuki militants but also fighting the battle of livelihood and food.
He confided that he could see his future becoming darker with each passing days.
Left at the mercy of the government to end the crisis and restore peace, Maiten has no choice but to pray to God that the crisis may end soon.
Among the shards of recollections, Maiten's voice wove a tale of survival.
He and his comrades, a band of labourers bonded by shared struggle, had stood on the precipice of calamity.
Recollecting his experience in the crisis, Maiten said he along with 15 other labourers have been working on a road project near Churachandpur town under a contractor.
The project was nearing completion when Kuki mobs started vandalising and burning government infrastructure in the last week of April.
They did not pay any attention thinking that the mobs might be simply expressing their resentment against the government.
However, an aged Kuki mother in the area where they worked kept asking them to leave the place for their safety.
Till that time, they just ignored her warning and more anxious about getting their final payment of around Rs 6 lakh after finishing the project.
However, in the early morning of May 2, the aged Kuki mother looked really worried for their safety and she pushed them to leave the place immediately to avoid any misfortune.
Her worried look and the way she pushed them to ensure that they leave the place made them rethink their situation.
This time, they paid heed to her warning, packed their belongings and left the place hurriedly without waiting for payment of their wages.
With an intensity only experience could summon, Maiten confessed the truth that lingered in the recesses of his mind.
"Had not the aged Kuki mother warned me," he murmured, his voice a fragile vessel of gratitude, "I might have never met my family again".
He voice broke down on remembering how close they were to their ultimate end as the violence erupted on the very next day they left Churachandpur district following the grandmotherly warning of the aged Kuki woman.
On reflection, Maiten couldn't help but ponder the nature of the unfolding crisis, questioning whether the events that erupted into ethnic violence on May 3 were premeditated.
The repeated warnings of the Kuki mother weighed heavily on his mind.
As the memories of her anxious countenance lingered, Maiten found himself considering the possibility that the crisis might have been brewing.
The aged Kuki mother's insistence on their safety seemed more than a mere precaution; it carried an air of forewarning, as if she knew the storm would soon break.
He wondered if the threads of fate had interwoven their lives with a purpose, nudging them away from harm's reach.
Perhaps, in her unassuming presence, the aged Kuki mother held a deeper understanding of the unrest that gripped their land, a wisdom that transcended the boundaries of time.
From there, I went again to the site where the gunfight took place, gathered some more information, and retrace my steps back to my office at Keishampat.
All the way to my office, Maiten's words stuck with me unable to get over the perturbing feeling I got after hearing his story.
Comment
