Look at the hills. Look at the smoke rising where homes once stood. Look at the silhouettes of elders, mothers, children standing before ashes that used to be villages.
Scene that should haunt a nation
This is not a distant tragedy. This is the burning of Naga homes. This is the spilling of Naga blood. This is the question burning hotter than the flames: Why is not a single Naga MLA openly condemning the burning of Naga villages and the killings of Nagas by Kuki terrorists?
Retrospectively, the Naga people have known war, exile, and survival. But there is a particular kind of pain when your own elected voice goes quiet while your house burns.
Biblical, moral foundation
Biblically, silence in the face of bloodshed is not neutrality. It is complicity.
“Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter” Proverbs 24:11.
“The Lord works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed” Psalm 103:6.
Morally, leadership is not a title. It is a burden. It is to stand between the wolf and the flock. To hold office and say nothing while villages burn is to trade conviction for convenience.
God is a God of justice. And justice begins with naming evil by its name.
Political, democratic betrayal
Politically, an MLA is not elected to manage files. An MLA is elected to be the voice of the people in the halls of power. Democratically, that voice must be first and loudest when the people are under attack.
To be silent is to tell the widow: your tears are not worth a statement.
To be silent is to tell the child: your burnt school is not worth a press conference.
To be silent is to tell the attacker: you may continue.
Tremendously and vehemently, we must say this: power without courage is cowardice. Representation without risk is decoration.
Social, emotional wound
Socially, a village is not just houses. It is the morung where stories were told. It is the field where ancestors are buried. It is the dialect spoken at the hearth. When you burn a Naga village, you do not just burn bamboo and tin. You burn memory.
Emotionally, the plight of the Nagas today is this: we are asked to be patient while our people die. We are asked to be “strategic” while our mothers run from fire. We are asked to wait for “proper channels” while graves multiply.
That is why the wound is deep. That is why the question is not angry, it is anguished.
Intellectual, insightful answer
Insightfully, we must ask: What system produces leaders who cannot speak when their own are killed?
Is it fear of losing party tickets? Is it pressure from alliances? Is it the politics of calculation that weighs votes more than lives?
Whatever the reason, it is not worthy of the Naga name.
Nationalistically, a people who cannot defend their villages cannot defend their nationhood.
Patriotically, love of people is proved not in speeches during peace, but in condemnation during bloodshed.
Prayerful, prophetic call
Prayerfully, we cry to the Lord of Hosts: Give us leaders with the courage of Esther who said “If I perish, I perish.” Give us elders with the boldness of Nathan who confronted kings. Guard our youth from despair. Heal the grieving.
But prayer without action is empty.
What must happen now
1. Speak, Unafraid: Every Naga MLA must publicly and unequivocally condemn the burning of Naga villages and the killing of Nagas. Silence must end today.
2. Stand, United: Across tribes, Ao, Angami, Lotha, Sumi, Tangkhul, Konyak, Chakhesang and all — the tapestry is stronger together. Division is the enemy’s weapon.
3. Act, Prudently and Powerfully: Demand protection for border villages. Demand accountability. Demand that the State and Centre treat Naga lives as precious, not expendable.
4. Remember, Virtuously: We do not seek revenge. We seek justice. We do not seek war. We seek the right to live on our land in peace and dignity.
Conclusion
Amazingly, beautifully, awesomely, the Naga people have survived centuries because we refused to be erased.
But survival is not enough. We must live with honor.
To our leaders: The hills are watching. The ancestors are listening. The children are remembering.
History will not ask what committee you chaired. History will ask: Where were you when the villages burned and our people were killed?
So let it be written. Let it be known.
We are not asking for permission to grieve. We are demanding the right to be defended.
From the highest hill to the deepest valley, let the voice rise:
“This is our land. These are our people. This fire will not consume us. And silence will not define us.”
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Michael Meiphami Shaiza is Co-incharge of BJP Manipur State Political Programmes and Meetings and President of Ukhrul-based NGO Ecological Rehabilitators’ Association (ERA).
(Views expressed are writers’ own and do not, in whatsoever manner, reflect that of Ukhrul Now)
