With the result that ever since I've come back, I can't keep my hands off chicken! Though we laughed and talked through our meal, not one of us was ever unaware of the paradox of the situation- That Sharmila had been on a fast for six years, and here we were, eating dinner in her house.

When we voiced this to lrom Shakhi, she simply smiled and said that it is her pleasure to have us. We all decided however, that when Sharmila succeeds, we would all feast together again, this time to celebrate her victory, not just her struggle.

Through the course of our research, we had heard and read a lot about the women's movement in Manipur, and the most fascinating were the Meira Paibi's.

The term Meira Paibi means 'torch bearers', and the movement emerged in the 1970s when Manipur was declared 'disturbed' and many innocent people suffered at the hands of the insurgents, other terrorist groups from Burma, and Para-military forces.

In order to protect their homes and villages, women emerged out of their homes, to patrol their localities, and to stand up against all injustice and violation to human rights. They were housewives, with no other agenda except to protect themselves and their communities from the onslaught of violence.

They voluntarily come out of their homes to discuss matters, face challenges, and participate in rallies, and have played an important role in the social and economic development of Manipur. They would patrol the villages at night, carrying long, hollow, and kerosene-filled bamboos.

The conditions in the North East had also turned the youth to waywardness, and in the face of unemployment and poverty, a lot of young men turned to drugs and alcoholism. A porous border with Burma ensured a steady supply of both.

Domestic violence was at an all time high in Manipur when the Meira Paibi's decided to take things into their own hands. They would patrol the villages, and anyone found guilty of drinking or violence towards a woman would be punished by the women.

No serious punishments - just a bit of slapping around and a night spent in the cold out of the house seemed to bring the boys around (ha ha ha!) It was the Meira Paibi Movement that eventually led to Manipur being declared a dry state.

The special Meira Paibi march had been planned in the villages outside Imphal to celebrate the six-year anniversary of Irom Sharmila's fast. We went to visit.

After driving for twenty minutes outside the city of Imphal, we were now amongst the villages and the fields, and in an area where AFSPA is very much applicable and considered necessary. The drive was beautiful - moonlit fields against the backdrop of olive coloured moist hills.

There were rows and rows of hills all around us, holding the valley of Imphal in the centre, like a giant bowl. Babloo told us that when they were children, they believed that the whole world was shaped like a giant bowl, and that they were in the middle of it.

This was their entire world. It was hard for us to imagine driving in the midst of such beauty that such a place was 'disturbed area'.

Hard to imagine that the calm of the night and the fields could actually be the playground of volatile violence. All of us sat quietly, watching field after field zip by us, mesmerized by the night, letting this experience seep in on top of the already touching experience of the dinner at Sharmila's home.

Suddenly, there was a white flash across the fields. Is that lightning, we wondered, recalling all that we had heard and read about the unpredictable weather of the North East. Much speculation and plenty of flashes later, we now started to hear a strange sound.

A faint 'pop', exactly like the opening of a champagne bottle. I immediately realized what this was. I remember reading this description somewhere in my college days- 'when a gun shot is fired in the air it sounds like the pop of a champagne bottle'.

Sitting in the college library at that time, I had wondered how someone could put such a merry description to something so sinister. That night though, driving towards the sounds, I smiled to myself, about how accurate the description was.

We carried on, determined not to turn back yet. We finally saw them - the Meira Paibis, with their burning bamboo torches held high as a silent symbol of protest.

In the distance, we could see the torches burning bright. We parked our cars and walked towards them. Around 30 women, all mothers and housewives, stood together with their torches held up high. But something was wrong. We weren't moving.

On asking we found out that the march had gotten too close to an Assam Rifles Camp, and the march had come to a road block. The police or the army personnel up ahead (we couldn't see who it was, it was too dark) had been firing warning shots in the air (the ones we had seen and heard on out way) and were now shouting into the microphone for the women to go back home, warning them of disastrous consequences otherwise.

The women refused to budge and had been standing there for a while. They were getting a bit irritated and many of them were now hurling abuses back at the road block ahead. Now the crowd also included men and reporters, and some of them started to chant "Go back, Indian Army!"

Someone suggested that we join them and show our solidarity by singing some songs for them. After all, they weren't doing anything wrong.

This was a peaceful protest in a democratic country. But then we faced yet again what had been our biggest problem in Manipur- the language barrier. We didn't speak Manipuri, and most women there understood only a spattering of English and Hindi.

So what should we sing?

to be continued.....

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5