No country for the 'outsider'
- Part 1 -

Kishore Seram, DNA *

Protest in Delhi against the killing of Nido Taniam - a youth from Arunachal Pradesh on February 01 2014. Pix : Debanish Achom

The attacks on North-Easterners reveal our ignorance of those we imagine as the 'Others'

The national outrage over the death of 19-year-old Nido Taniam in a suspected racial attack brings back memories of the discrimination I suffered. Twenty-five years ago, as a young journalist, I wrote an article in a Delhi-based daily, Patriot, to highlight the issue of psychological alienation that divides the so-called mainland Indians and the Northeasterners. Today, I wonder if we have made any progress in bridging the gap. The following is an abridged version of the original article:

"Er....in which country would Imphal be?"

The disarming ignorance with which my history professor asked me to clarify my nationality, floored me - that was in 1979, the first day in my college at Chandigarh.

"I am sure he is a Nepali", a smart alec chipped in, before I could regain my composure.

It hurt me bad, real bad. And brought back scenes of the recent past - my mother crying her heart out for her son going to a "foreign land", my father's concern, apprehensive as he was of the unknown awaiting me.

Ten years rolled by, and I have learned to breathe normally in the polluted city. I have learned to pick my way in the maze of building, traffic and people. I have learned to appreciate what the metropolis has to offer - but I haven't yet learned to project myself as unmistakably Indian. I don't know what an Indian looks like.

Perhaps my Manipuri brethren and I, who have crossed the nine ranges of hills, travelled 2,000 km and more to the Capital or other states for higher studies, are the 'sensitive kind', a volatile indignant lot. Out of the cocoon, perhaps we are edgy, ready to take offence at the first provocation. But I insist too, that if the reaction be sharp to the slightest touch, the touch is on a festering wound.

Back home all those with sharp features, pointed nose, big eyes, hairy arms - are addressed as 'Mayang'. The term though meaning 'outsider', is used in a different connotation, often with the undertone of 'alien'. And I admit, I crossed the border with much apprehension.

I remember the first three months of my hostel life in Chandigarh - cornered and sneered at by my 'big-bully brothers' in the very first week. I remember too, how humiliating it was when they wanted to know if my 'Nepali' sister was a prostitute.

How often I've had to declare that I am an Indian from the state of Manipur, only to hear them say with disdain: "Junglees!" And it hurt too, to be grouped with other foreigners, in spite of my vehement protests that I was an Indian. The head clerk in college was adamant that 'chinkies' were found only in Nepal and Thailand!

Perhaps I felt the discrimination more because of my acute sense of insecurity then. For some years I could never lightly brush off a query like, "Is head-hunting still prevalent in your state?" or, "Heard that your gals are good and sex is free". With time though, I have come to tolerate them, believing, that along with the coat and tie, we have inherited the contempt for what is native from the British.

It is not without reason that people from Nagaland, Mizoram and Manipur feel a strong alienation. Those who reach these states are only businessmen, the poverty-stricken, or officers on deputation. One set is busy exploiting the gullible, one is a recluse earning his daily bread, and the third set grumbles its way through the 'exile'!

(To be contd)