This is a searing critique highlighting Manipur’s deepening crisis—a vacuum of genuine leadership, eroding cultural pride, and a disillusioned youth trapped in cycles of hypocrisy and geopolitical neglect.
By Marjing Mayanglambam
It is human nature to harbor a sense of superiority in this so-called “society.” We often assume that being a leader is easy, thanks to movies and fictional stories. Without delving into the affairs of other countries or Indian states, as usual, I prefer to focus intently on our beautiful motherland, Manipur. Home to dozens of Indigenous tribes and communities with distinct cultural and traditional richness, our Manipur has long struggled to enjoy sustained peace and stability. This has been due to numerous external pressures and some internal challenges as well. I wish I didn’t have to write so often about Manipur’s decline and hardships, but how can a true lover of this land remain silent while it is relentlessly ridiculed and tormented—both by hostile neighbors and some of its own misguided children?
Perhaps we were never properly taught civic sense in our schools, which still follow the outdated British clerical-style education system—nor were we guided well by our elders. Our schools provide only the bare minimum knowledge needed for life. As for the much-hyped New Education Policy (NEP), it seems more effective on paper than in practice. I’ve never once needed to use Euclid’s axioms, nor have I proudly discussed the Mughal invasions. Most of our youth—and even many adults—know very little about Manipuri history, myths, or legends, yet are well-versed in foreign cultures. This is not a badge of pride, but a troubling sign. A disconnect from one’s own history and roots inevitably leads to apathy and a lack of patriotism toward one’s birthplace. Only a handful of politicians and rare individuals possess deep knowledge of Manipur, and often that is only to serve personal agendas like winning elections or clearing public service exams.
But let me ask—who is leading Manipur today? Who has ever led it with true dedication? Before the crisis caused by narco-terrorism and illegal immigration, Manipur was progressing—albeit slowly—under fairly good governance. Now, with the government toppled and the state in a seemingly bottomless abyss, recovery appears nowhere in sight. Everyone is trying to reshape society based on their own ideologies and limited power. Retired officials, aging politicians, local village elders, and a growing number of social media keyboard warriors are vocal in echoing the same complaints again and again. A classic case of male chauvinism is evident in the way countless TV talk shows feature men endlessly discussing Manipur’s problems, yet when it’s time for protests or real action, it is women who are pushed to the frontlines as instruments of struggle.
We are trapped in an endless loop of hypocrisy, ego clashes, power struggles, betrayals, and confusion. Even as I write this, I am searching for solutions that could restore the harmony and normalcy that we Manipuris have deserved ever since our seemingly coerced annexation into India. We are slowly approaching the end of our legacy, dancing to the tune of those who desire our collapse. Strategically, we live in a crucial geo-political region, and thus, our existence still matters to the nation. No matter how much we criticize the government, we continue to plead for their support—just to survive.
It’s not an exaggeration to say that we youths lack a clear path and sufficient guidance on how to serve our motherland. Meanwhile, our elders are no longer in a position to lead us meaningfully toward peace and progress. This is the harsh reality—a game of survival in what feels like an almost post-apocalyptic existence.
(Marjing Mayanglambam is a folk musician and pursued Graduate Studies at UNT Denton, Texas, United States)