Manipur Can Simply Be Manipur

Vik Sorensangbam *

An aerial view from Chingmeirong of the Imphal City on March 18 2018 :: Pix - Shankar Khangembam

Imphal, Manipur, the place I used to know, seems to be slowly washed away by time. I went looking for the old cinema theatres, Asha, Jina, and Mini Friends but they are gone, almost as if they were never there. Yet, for me, they still exist in memory.

I remember watching Game of Death and seeing Bruce Lee on the big screen at Asha, sitting there with my Don Bosco buddies after bunking class. Those were the days. Then there were Moonraker, Star Wars, and so many other movies that became part of our childhood and our lives.

Mini Friends holds some particularly special memories for me. I remember watching Casper there, the first Jurassic Park, and many other amazing films that transported us into worlds we could only imagine. And Enemy at the Gates was the last movie I watched at Mini Friends. I never knew at the time that it would become my final memory of that theatre.

I'm not really comparing Imphal with Montreal, my current hometown, but living here has made me appreciate something I wish we had preserved more back home. Here in Montreal, I love how people make an effort to preserve old places. Why? Because these places hold memories, not just for one person, but for generations of people who lived, loved, laughed, struggled, and grew up around them.

A tree, an old wall, a building, a theatre, a street corner, you name it. They may look ordinary, but they can carry hundreds of living memories. Once these places are gone, you can't really rebuild the memories attached to them. Maybe progress doesn't always have to mean erasing the past. Sometimes, preserving a small piece of yesterday is also a way of honoring the lives that once surrounded it.

Those cinemas were more than just buildings with a screen and rows of seats. They were places where friendships were made, where we escaped into other worlds for a few hours, where we laughed, screamed, cheered, and occasionally even bunked class. Today, the buildings are gone.

The names are fading. But the memories remain, quietly playing in the little cinema inside our minds. Perhaps that's why old places matter. They don't just occupy space in a city. They occupy space in our lives.

And when those places disappear, we don't just lose a building.

We lose a small piece of the Manipur we once knew.

One thing I've noticed with the new generation is the growing culture of imitation, copying almost everything without really understanding the consequences or the context behind it.

You can see it everywhere, especially in fashion, social media trends, and, sadly, in parts of the Manipuri film industry.

Instead of developing an identity of our own, much of what we see today feels like a blind carbon copy of mainstream Indian cinema, item numbers, vulgar dance moves, exaggerated glamour, and storylines that seem designed more to imitate a trend than to tell something meaningful.

What concerns me even more is how this kind of imagery can be exploited by people with money and influence, turning women and performers into objects rather than respecting them as artists. Somewhere along the way, the sense of decency, dignity, and cultural identity seems to have been pushed aside in the name of being modern. I'm not against change. Cinema must evolve. Fashion must evolve. Young people should experiment and create something new.

But evolution doesn't have to mean losing our identity.

I often think about the legacy of films like Imagi Ningthem and Matamgi Manipur. Those were more than just movies; they represented a period when Manipuri cinema had its own voice, its own stories, its own sensibility, and a certain dignity that made it distinctly ours. Perhaps that was the golden era of Manipuri cinema.

The question is: did we fail to carry that legacy forward?

Being modern is not about copying what everyone else is doing.

Being modern should mean having the confidence to create something that is uniquely our own.

Traffic is chaos. Our roads have lost their pride, and when the rain pours down, some parts of Imphal almost feel like they're turning into a flood zone.

Traffic chaos in Imphal can be addressed, at least in part, by investing in a reliable and affordable public transportation system. Not just public transport for the sake of having buses, but a system that people can actually depend on, affordable fares, predictable schedules, clean vehicles, proper routes, and, most importantly, respect for passengers' time.

If public transportation is convenient and reliable, people are far more likely to leave their private vehicles at home. That alone could make a significant difference to traffic congestion. Of course, building new roads, flyovers, or even a sky train could be amazing ideas for the future. But let's not rush toward quick development without proper planning.

Development isn't simply about building more. It's about building the right things, in the right places, for the right reasons.

Let's first understand the problems, plan for the long term, listen to the people who use these roads every day, and then build accordingly. Imphal doesn't need development just for the sake of looking developed.

We need thoughtful development that actually makes life better for the people who call Manipur home.

And this brings me back to something I've noticed with the new generation: we are incredibly good at copying things from social media, Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, you name it. Trends, fashion, dances, lifestyles... we can copy almost anything.

So, why not copy something good for a change?

Can we copy cleanliness?

Can we copy respect for public property?

Can we copy good civic habits from places that have figured out how to keep their cities clean?

Seriously, if we can copy literally anything, why not this? It doesn't require huge investments or complicated solutions. We can start with very simple habits.

Stop throwing plastic bottles and recyclable waste into drains.

When drains are filled with plastic bottles, wrappers, and garbage, water can't flow properly. During heavy rain, blocked drainage contributes to water backing up and overflowing onto the roads. Put the trash where it belongs. Recycle what can be recycled. Keep the drains clear.

It's really that simple.

We don't need to reinvent anything. We just need to adopt some basic best practices and actually practice them. If we are going to copy, let's copy something that makes our home better.

During my short visit to Imphal, I could see so much potential in Manipur. The beautiful mountains, with clouds gently resting on their peaks, offered views that were almost impossible to put into words. Away from the city, the open fields stretched quietly across the landscape, constantly reminding me of the simplicity of life.

There was something deeply calming about it all. Standing there, surrounded by the mountains, clouds, and fields, I was reminded that perhaps we don't need much to live a meaningful life. Sometimes, the simplest things are more than enough.

No, we don't need to become Switzerland.

We don't need to become Korea.

We don't need to imitate anyone else.

Manipur can simply be Manipur.

We already have so much of what we need, a unique culture, rich traditions, talented people, beautiful landscapes, natural resources, and a strong sense of identity. We have the ingredients to build a sustainable and prosperous future on our own terms.

But development isn't only the responsibility of the government. Citizens have a role to play too. Sometimes, it starts with very simple things: keeping our surroundings clean, respecting public property, protecting our environment, following basic civic rules, and taking pride in the place we call home. We don't need to copy someone else's identity to progress.

We just need to preserve what makes Manipur special, learn from the best practices of the world, and build a better Manipur in our own way. Manipur doesn't have to become Switzerland. Manipur doesn't have to become Korea. Manipur just needs to become a better Manipur.

There are little things about the old Manipur that I find myself missing more than I expected. I miss the Singju that was simply Singju not dressed up with a fashionable name. I miss hearing Eyamba, Ibung, and Eche, words that carried a certain warmth and familiarity, now increasingly replaced by the more polished "Sir" and "Madam." Perhaps these changes are small.

Perhaps they are simply signs of a changing time. And there is nothing wrong with change. But sometimes, in the rush to appear modern, we forget that culture lives in the smallest things, in the words we use, the way we greet one another, the food we share, the names we call each other, and the traditions we carry without even realizing their value.

Modernity does not have to mean abandoning our roots.

Civilization does not require us to erase our identity.

And progress should never demand that we forget where we came from.

Manipur has never needed to pretend to be somewhere else.

Let the mountains remain our mountains.

Let the fields remain green.

Let Eyamba, Ibung, and Eche continue to live in our language.

Let Singju remain Singju.

Let our traditions breathe alongside the new.

We can move forward without leaving ourselves behind. Because Manipur doesn't need more polish, more imitation, or more borrowed identities. Manipur needs to remain Manipur.

Not yesterday's Manipur.

Not someone else's Manipur.

But a modern Manipur that still remembers its soul.

No extra spices. No borrowed flavour.

Just Manipur, simply, proudly, beautifully Manipur.