A long drive along the picturesque highway in Imphal, immersed in the height of the magnificent peaks piercing the blue sky, came to a sudden halt. I peeked through the dark glasses of the car and found a few gunmen engaged in a conversation with our driver. ‘We can’t go ahead,’ said the driver.This came as a major disappointment. I was looking forward to what seemed an useful trip to the tribal area of Churachandpur, which is supposed to have the highest incidence of HIV cases in the state. I tried flashing my press identification card, but in vain.We — a group of journalists — were forced to beat a retreat. It seems a grenade had been hurled at an army picket in the area. The place had been cordoned off and a combing operation was going on. ‘An encounter between the army and militants of the Kuki tribe is likely,’ our driver informed us.We now had to find an alternate site for the visit. The next day we tried a small shopping trip to the nearby market. When we reached we discovered that not a single shop was open. ‘A rebel had died in the Churachandpur encounter,’ we were told.‘Rebels’, ‘militants’, ‘combing’, ‘cordon’, ‘search’,‘ encounter’ and ‘operation’ — familiar words that had come to haunt me again. But this wasn’t Kashmir, my state, this was another end of the country which doesn’t even share its border with that ‘infamous neighbour of ours’.Two distinct ends, same circumstances. The similarities were striking. On every trip to a suburban area, the locals were thoroughly frisked and we, as visitors, were spared. My experiences of Srinagar soon came to be superimposed on Imphal. Shutters would drop every time there was a death. The security men seemed as distinct and distant as they were in Kashmir.Largely ignorant about the reasons for the insurgency, I tried to find out more. But when questioned, apprehension was writ large on people’s faces. They refused to comment. ‘I am also from a state facing similar problems, so I understand what you all must be going through,’ I said, trying to show empathy — using ‘in-group’ psychology which comes into play sometimes.‘These guys don’t want to be part of India and claim they were supposed to be independent after 1947,’ said my local guide, a trifle apprehensively.‘But isn’t the majority community Hindu here?’ I asked and was informed that the Meties, the Kukis and Nagas have their own distinct agendas.Yet, we were always told that extremism is a characteristic of ‘a particular minority community’. A small sojourn to this distant region helped me clear that wrong perception. It showed that there was no simplistic way to view the ‘territory of violence’ — and that there are no simplistic solutions either.But the question remains, why do people resort to such extremism? Why is the country, which was formed on the principles of unity in diversity, witnessing uprisings in its two extreme corners? Something has definitely gone wrong somewhere. We have to find out what that is.
