
I remember the day I
was travelling to Oinam village in Manipur’s Senapati district. The beauty of
Manipuri landscapes made me wonder if I was journeying through a world of
paintings. As I shifted my attention from the far mountains, rivers and
grasslands to the road that connects to Oinam, I saw armed men in uniform
walking on either side of the road, mostly from army camps en route to nearby
villages.
As “Vidai kodu
engal nade” (grant me farewell, my land!) was playing on my headphones, a
song that explains the peril of locals in a zone of armed conflict, I
opened The Judgment That Never Came by Nandita Haksar and
Sebastian Hongrey. This book was given to me by Babloo Loithanbham,
founder of Human Rights Alert, that morning when we started out to collect
information on extra-judicial killings under Operation Bluebird in Oinam
village after the Supreme Court order of July 7. Throughout the ride, what
remained immovable was the torture that villagers in Senapati district suffered
in Operation Bluebird. The accounts by Nandita Haksar were no different from
what I heard in Onaeme Hill. On its 30th anniversary, here is the story of the
suffering people in Oinam and other villages in Senapati district endured in
Operation Bluebird.
Bluebird(July-October
1987), according to an Amnesty International report, was retribution for an
attack by the National Socialist Council of Nagaland (NSCN) on the army post in
Oinam where they killed nine soldiers, and stole 150 guns and 125,000 rounds of
ammunition.
According to the
report, and activists, the excesses in Oinam and 35 surrounding villages in
Senapati district were rationalised as an operation against the NSCN, though it
was an act of revenge. People were not allowed to return to their homes, and a
number of people locked inside the community church were not even given the
chance to go out to urinate. Cattle were let loose to graze the fields, as a
result of which crops were damaged, leaving the village with little to no food.
It is claimed that soldiers ate the little food left over and killed the cattle as well. Many villagers were used as slaves to cook for army units. Slavery, torture, rape and hunger became the fate of villagers for over three months.
It is claimed that
soldiers ate the little food left over and killed the cattle as well. Many
villagers were used as slaves to cook for army units. Slavery, torture, rape
and hunger became the fate of villagers for over three months. Several people
died as a result of this abuse. Those who survived the operation are still
waiting for justice because many parts of the state are still under the Armed
Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA). Oinam is still hung over from Operation
Bluebird.
The popular belief
that the army can do no wrong has coloured all public perception of its
activities. This perception has enabled civilians not affected by the operation
to legitimise the brutal response in Senapati as a reasonable and worthy answer
to the acts of NSCN. At the same time, assuming it was legitimate, it is hard
to understand why villagers who were merely suspected to have housed the NSCN
rebels should be subjected to torture. And despite first-hand evidence such
excesses were not considered a violation of human rights even in the courts.
Generally, a killing may be indemnified and be termed an encounter if armed
personnel submit an account of the arms and ammunitions seized in the encounter.
Indeed, one of the reasons for Bluebird was the recovery of stolen arms and
ammunition. Not once did any unit give accounts of the weapons and ammunition
recovered from the village during the operation between July and October 1987
in spite of numerous request from civil authorities.
At Oinam we spoke to
the elders and with their help worked until dusk. It was while watching the
dusk set in that the stories of Oinam shone in a new light.
Manipur showed me a
reality, less known to the rest of India—the reality of life under AFSPA. There
have been 1,528 recorded killings by the armed forces, mostly extra-judicial,
in the last two decades. I was in a land where a family could never be certain
that their father/mother/sister/brother would come back home alive every time
they stepped out. The risk to which one is exposed, living in Manipur,
threatens the very right to life, let alone the right to living in clean,
healthy surroundings.
It has created a
situation where the Manipuri, to whom such aggression by the armed forces is
unjustifiable, still prefers to become a police commando as that is one way to
ensure that he and his family survive without harassment. When only brute
aggression guarantees survival rule of law loses its meaning. It is like an
epidemic where the assertion of power via violence is the only key to survival.
At dinner, there were
more stories. The King Chilli, one of the hottest in the world, served to us,
was used as an instrument of torture in Operation Bluebird. People were
force-fed the chilli and some Assam Rifles troopers even shoved the powder up
the anal or other organs of men, women and children, if accounts are to be
believed. The village headman sat with us after dinner to tell us about
Operation Bluebird. He was more than willing, we didn’t have to push him.
Operation Bluebird haunts their memory. As he explained how his hands were tied
with rope, he lifted them up in the air and crisscrossed them with so much
pressure that one felt the hurt seeing it. He pressed his toes against the
ground while explaining he was suspended in the air and was desperately trying
to touch the ground with his toes. It was as if his torture demanded he
relive those moments of pain. I wept before even someone translated his
Manipuri to me. It seemed to me that the language of pride the security
nation-state spoke did not understand this language of suffering.
As he narrated his
journey between life and death, his anger at the indignities to which he was
subjected was plain to see. He refused to die because his heart desperately
yearned for justice, for himself and his land. Three decades have passed and
many like him are still striving for a measure of justice for their land and
people.
As an outsider, every
cultural symbol of the Naga people of Oinam in the dinner hall, like the King
Chilli and their totem sticks fascinated me. I wanted to know the cultural
significance of the stick and chilli, to know more about it. When I did ask,
the replies I got stunned me. When I pointed to the totem stick, he told me how
one of their women was tied to the stick and raped by 7-8 armed personnel. I
realised that the torture of Operation Bluebird had erased the cultural
memories associated with their symbols. Their original significance had been
overlaid with memories of torture, pain and rape. The erasure of their cultural
memory by this rewriting had changed the nature of storytelling among a group
of people and this is possibly the worst aspect of the new world wrought by
AFSPA in Manipur. The change in the nature of narratives from familiar
tradition to construct of horror could affect the community not only in the
present and past but also in the future and across generations.
On the foggy drive
back to Imphal, our guide Lucky told us the fog reminded him of the day
Bluebird was launched. As he was in his mid-20s, Lucky seemed to have
internalised his grandmother’s memories. “Things were just too close to normal
before the fog. When the fog covered our hill, we could see a change in
normalcy. When it was clearing we faced Operation Bluebird.” I could sense the
three realities of the normal that existed in the car as he spoke. The first
was a normalised normalcy with AFSPA of Lucky and many other Manipuris; a
normalcy without AFSPA (mine or that of other non-Manipuris in the cab); and
when AFSPA manifested itself as Operation Bluebird to normalise violence in
their community.
Only a sustained
search for the truth in Manipur can bring out the excesses that seem to be
routinely committed during such operations and encounters. On July 14, 2017,
the Supreme court ordered the CBI to institute a SIT to probe the alleged
extra-judicial killings in the case of Extra Judicial Execution Victim
Families Association (EEVFAM) &Anr. Versus Union of India &Anr.
Such a special investigation
team may not aid in helping the truth to surface. First, the investigation of
truth by such a body gives the process of discovering the truth a bureaucratic
stain. Secondly, it becomes a commercial substitution by awarding compensation
and serving it up as justice. What is lost is the ritual of confession, the
expression of true remorse and denial or acceptance. A society filled with
people defending their own stance will not aid in its ethical repair. It is the
coming of community in forms of confession, repentance, and forgiveness that
makes way to rebuild conflict zones.
In a place that has
been torn apart in blood and death, and where everydayness has become a ritual
of violence, will atonement be the fitting reply? That is for Manipuris to
decide. As an outsider, the only question that rings in my mind is that, “Will
there be a chance for a truth commission like South Africa that will heal the
scars of many such operations in Manipur and also aid the catharsis of memory
and culture?”
It would be something
to see the North-Eastern people re-creating memories of joy and connecting once
again with the symbols of their cultural importance. I wish to see the
certainty of returning home when they step out. I wish to see fewer widows,
half-widows and orphans. I wish to see the communities learning to co-exist
with their multiple ethnicities .As Desmond Tutu puts it, quoting the
sociologist Shiv Visvanathan’s words in his Catharsis and Creation lectures, “I
am because of who we are”. We here would be inclusive of the community,
security personnel and the state.
“As we part, let us
spread a smile across our lips
Let us hide our soul in our bodies
We are journeying from here only as empty shells”
— Excerpt from “Vidai Kodu Engal Nadu”