[Reader-list] A follow up...............silence won't count anymore!

anupam chakravartty c.anupam at gmail.com
Mon Aug 10 20:51:33 IST 2009


Dear Rajen

Is it possible to resolve conflicts through something as elusive called
governance?

- anupam

On 8/10/09, Rajendra Bhat Uppinangadi <rajen786uppinangady at gmail.com> wrote:
>
> Dear all,      extremely sad, but true state of affairs at Manipur, as
> governance has gone for a toss, the administration is in the hand of
> unlawful persons with and without uniforms, sad commentary of  how bad
> governance or lack of it affects the "identity" of the citizen and how lack
> of concern of the central governance affects the state and federation of
> India.!
>
> Regards,
>
> Rajen.
>
> On Mon, Aug 10, 2009 at 1:04 PM, Rajkamal Goswami <
> rajkamalgoswami at gmail.com
> > wrote:
>
> > *CURRENT AFFAIRS* *cover story*
> >
> > *Life In A Shadow Land*
> >
> > *As Manipur comes to a boil in the aftermath of a fake encounter, **SHOMA
> > CHAUDHURY** maps the fractured truths and complex wars raging in the
> state.
> > Photographs by **SHAILENDRA PANDEY*
> >
> > ON JULY 23, 2009, on an ordinary day in Imphal, six people were going
> about
> > their morning chores in a crowded market on BT Road. P Lukhoi Singh, a
> > rider
> > working with the Assam Rifles, had just delivered a packet to the SP
> (CID)
> > and had stopped to chat with a friend. Gimamgal, a peon, was cycling to
> > work. Ningthonjam Keshorani, mother of three, was selling fruit. W Gita
> > Rani
> > had just visited her doctor and was trying to catch an autorickshaw.
> Rabina
> > Devi, five months pregnant, was holding her 2-year-old son Russel’s hand
> > and
> > buying a banana before she met up with her husband, working at a mobile
> > shop. And 22-year-old Chongkham Sanjit, a former insurgent, was on his
> way
> > to buy medicine for a sick uncle in hospital.
> > [image: image]*Counter kills* Sanjit, killed in cold blood; Rabina Devi
> > lies
> > next to him, shot by accident
> >
> > *View slideshow<
> > http://www.tehelka.com/story_main42.asp?filename=Ne150809coverstory.asp#
> >
> > ***
> >
> > Suddenly, a young man ran from a police frisking. Shots rang out. Lukhoi
> > Singh heard a sound like “automatic firing” and tried to duck beneath his
> > motorbike but was badly hit. He saw two cops walking into the crowd,
> > firing.
> > He told them he was hurt but they did not stop. Gimamgal heard a burst of
> > sound and kept cycling. He didn’t realise he had been hit till he saw
> blood
> > pouring down his body. His left arm was shattered. N Keshorani heard the
> > gunfire and started to push her fruit cart away but buckled suddenly. She
> > had been shot in the calf. Gita Rani just heard a sound. She didn’t
> realise
> > she had been hit till she saw blood staining her chest. Rabina Devi just
> > dropped dead. A bullet went straight through her forehead and out of her
> > neck. Her little son saw his mother lying in a pool of blood and began to
> > scream.
> >
> > Sanjit was standing at a PCO when within minutes he was surrounded by
> > commandos. There were four civilians injured and one dead on the road:
> the
> > cops needed an alibi. On that busy road, in the middle of a crowded
> market,
> > in full view of Manipur’s citizens, Sanjit was dragged into a pharmacy
> next
> > door and shot point blank. His body was then dragged out by the commandos
> > and tossed into a truck along with Rabina Devi.
> >
> > All of this passed for a routine day in Manipur. The area was not
> cordoned
> > off, no forensics were called in. The State Assembly was in session when
> > the
> > incident happened. By late afternoon, Chief Minister Ibobi Singh had
> tabled
> > a statement saying Sanjit, a member of PLA, a proscribed militant outfit,
> > had shot five civilians while trying to escape a police frisking but
> > Manipur’s brave commandos had killed him in an encounter. A 9mm Mauser
> was
> > found on him. The CM also said there was no way to stem the menace of
> > insurgents except to “eliminate” them (a statement he later denied). The
> > Opposition swallowed the story without question. Everyone went back to
> > business.
> >
> > Manipur is a dark shadow land. Nothing there is what it seems. Fear and
> > fatigue have become its universal character traits. It is estimated that
> > about 300 people have been killed in 2009 alone between insurgents and
> > state
> > forces. But nobody dares to raise any questions. People suspect things,
> but
> > in the absence of proof, they look away. Each time someone dies, the
> > neighbourhood constitutes a Joint Action Committee (JAC). Token protests
> > are
> > made, sometimes followed by token compensations, and everyone tries to
> live
> > on. The same would have happened this time, except an anonymous
> > photographer
> > captured the damning extra-judicial killing of Sanjit on camera.
> Terrified
> > of publishing the pictures in local papers, the photographer contacted
> > TEHELKA.
> >
> > Our story – *Murder in Plain Sight *– published last week was like a
> > pressure cooker burst. As the story traveled, protests erupted across the
> > state. People everywhere poured into the streets, demanding a judicial
> > enquiry and the chief minister’s resignation. Young boys fought off
> > commandos with slingshots and marbles. Women stretched their *phaneks*
> > across
> > roads as deterrents (Manipuri men are traditionally forbidden to touch
> > women’s clothes drying on a clothesline) and openly courted arrested. As
> L
> > Gyaneshwari, a women protestor recovering in hospital, says, “TEHELKA
> > opened
> > the gates to the tears blocked within us. We have always known the truth
> > about these killings but we never had any evidence and had lost the
> > strength
> > to speak. Now, we’ve found courage again. If a vegetable vendor had not
> > grabbed Rabina Devi’s bag and kept it with her, the commandos would have
> > put
> > a 9mm in it and passed her off as a militant as well.” “TEHELKA has woken
> > up
> > Manipur,” says Arun Irengbam, editor of the news daily, *Ireipak.* The
> > sentiment runs strong. “We cannot thank TEHELKA enough for bringing the
> > truth to light,” says Dayanada Chingtham, co-ordinator of the Apunba Lup,
> > an
> > apex body of activist groups. “We wish you had done this story two years
> > earlier, our police have become too brazen,” says a man, working —
> > ironically — in the office of Joy Kumar, the DGP of Police and the man,
> in
> > a
> > sense, at the heart of the storm.
> >
> > True to script, as the valley erupted in unarmed protest, the State
> > responded with typical ham-handedness. Commandos were deployed everywhere
> > and protestors were beaten back with water cannons, tear gas and smoke
> > bombs. Curfew was imposed. In a telling detail, Rabina Devi’s
> grandmother,
> > MRK Rajesana, was among a group of elderly women marching towards the
> > Governor’s house when they were stopped by commandos. “Arrest us”, they
> > taunted. Instead, the cops began to hurl smoke bombs at them. Some of the
> > old women ran into a tiny chicken shop for shelter and pulled the shutter
> > down. A cop found a small chink in the shutter and threw three smoke
> bombs
> > in. “Die, you hags”, he shouted. Imagine the outrage of the grandmother:
> a
> > pregnant granddaughter shot dead, buying a banana, and now the oppressive
> > suffocations of a vengeful State. “Manipur’s women fought the British in
> > 1904 and 1939. We fought the Indian army in 2004 for Manorama Devi. It is
> > time for another *nupi lal* (women’s war). I am inviting our women to
> come
> > forward for another war,” says she.
> >
> > *‘The problem is as much with Delhi as with Imphal. The situation in
> > Manipur
> > can get much worse than Jammu and Kashmir but the Centre just does not
> want
> > to recognise it’*
> >
> > *Ved Marwah,* former governor of Manipur
> >
> > The central hospital in Manipur is full of such brewing stories. KH
> Lokhen
> > Singh, an autorickshaw driver, was walking down the road, not even part
> of
> > a
> > protest, when a passing commando hurled a smoke bomb at him. As the bomb
> > exploded, Lokhen’s face was scalded. He lies in a hospital room now, face
> > burnt, blinded. His tiny two-yearold daughter Sangeeta — a baby with an
> > angelic face — lies sleeping on the floor on a mat beside him.
> >
> > Finally, on August 5, 2009, a full week after the story first broke,
> Chief
> > Minister Ibobi Singh called a press conference, admitted he had been
> > misguided into making a false statement about the “unfortunate incident”,
> > and promised a judicial enquiry. Six commandos, including a
> sub-inspector,
> > were suspended. Though protests continued to rage across the state even
> > after his announcement, for the moment, the immediate crisis seems to
> have
> > been defused.
> >
> > THE FAKE encounter of July 23, however, tells a darker story about
> Manipur.
> > It lays bare the pent up triumvirate of emotions that have come to
> dominate
> > the psyche of people here: extreme fear, extreme distrust and extreme
> > fatigue. Speak to anyone in the state — the sweetshop owner at the
> airport,
> > the taxi driver, historians, housewives, journalists, activists, vendors,
> > doctors, mechanics — and despair curdles just beneath. Everybody has
> > stories
> > to tell. Stories of extortion. Kidnapping. Threats. Demand notes.
> > Corruption. And extra-judicial killing.
> >
> > Far away from the national gaze, in fact, this tiny emerald valley
> > surrounded by cloud-kissed emerald hills is on the verge of internal
> > collapse. Much of this contemporary mess has historical roots. Manipur
> has
> > never entirely been a willing participant of the Indian Union. Its
> dominant
> > community — the Meiteis — claim a proud and unbroken history that goes
> back
> > 2,000 years. In 1947, when the British left, the Manipur Kingdom
> > established
> > itself as a constitutional monarchy and held elections to its own
> > parliament. Two years later, in 1949, the Maharaja of Manipur agreed to
> (or
> > was forced to, claim the Meiteis) merge with India. First as an inferior
> > C-State, then in 1963 as an Union Territory, and finally in 1972 as a
> State
> > of India.
> >
> > *‘Guns will not stop the insurgency. Just stop the cycle of killing and
> > peace will come. We can earn money, we can manage our family, but “the
> Act”
> > is beyond bearing’*
> >
> > *L Mem Choubi,* Apunba Lup
> >
> > Almost immediately, in 1964, the first underground movement for
> > independence
> > was born as the United National Liberation Front (UNLF). Other insurgent
> > outfits with varying versions of nationalism followed in the 1970s: the
> > PLA,
> > the PREPAK, the KCP, the KYKL.
> >
> > But these were not all. Manipur is made up of a rainbow community. Fifty
> > seven percent of its people are the Vaishnavite Hindu Meiteis, who live
> > dominantly in the valley. In the surrounding hills live the Nagas, Kukis
> > and
> > Mizo- Chin tribes. The Nagas and Kukis, which themselves have sub-groups,
> > are mostly Christian. About seven percent of the state’s population is
> made
> > up of Muslims — Pangals — who also live in the valley in a district
> called
> > Thoubal.
> >
> > Historically, the Meiteis have always felt and behaved superior to the
> hill
> > tribes. Predictably then, each of these communities have sprouted their
> own
> > militant underground movements. The Naga movement, in fact, predates the
> > UNLF to the 1950s. To simplify a long and complex history, what all of
> this
> > essentially means is that over the years, this tiny valley with a
> > population
> > of no more than 25 lakh people has sprouted almost 40 insurgent groups.
> > Some
> > of them are fighting the Indian State; many of them are fighting each
> > other.
> > Equally, as Central funds for development have poured into the valley,
> but
> > failed to climb the hills, the fights have become less over identity and
> > more over money. With an eye on the pie, many of the big insurgent groups
> > have splintered into innumerable small factions. As every Manipuri
> citizen
> > will tell you with disgust: “Every sub-ethnic group in Manipur has its
> own
> > militia, and every militia has its own extortion industry.”
> >
> > The stories of extortion in Manipur are epic. All well-heeled citizens
> are
> > routinely sent “demand notes” in the form of threat calls, kidnappings,
> > grenades or Chinese bombs hurled into shops and homes, or outright
> > killings.
> > Apart from these individual payouts, every government contract or
> > development fund has a fixed scaffold of cuts that go to the underground
>> > or “UG” as they are collectively known. These fixed cuts have now peaked
> at
> > 38 percent of every project. In early 2009, Dr Kishan, a officer of the
> > Manipur Civil Service, was shot for resisting extortion demands from a
> > development fund. As historian and former Apunba Lup leader, Lokendra
> > Arambam — an eloquent and disillusioned elder — puts it mildly, “There
> has
> > been a qualitative degeneration of the militants.” Things are so bleak
> that
> > the outfits that restrict themselves to “institutional extortion” are now
> > seen as honourable or principled.
> > EVERY ETHNIC GROUP HAS ITS OWN MILITIA, EVERY MILITIA HAS ITS OWN
> EXTORTION
> > INDUSTRY
> >
> > The UG is everywhere in Manipur, permeating the skin of everyday life.
> Most
> > of them run parallel governments, complete with Finance-in-Charge,
> Auditor
> > General and Secretaries of military and cultural affairs. In several
> > heinous
> > incidents, as in the infamous Heirok village episode, the PREPAK group —
> > fanatic revivalists who want the Meiteis to go back to their pre-Hindu
> past
> > — walked into a village celebrating a pre-Diwali ceremony and shot a boy
> > and
> > girl in cold blood as a lesson for the village.
> >
> > But the trouble is, the UG is only one facet of the fear that stalks
> > Manipur. The more damning facet — because you are groomed to expect
> better
> > from it — is the State itself.
> >
> > LIKE CHAUVINISTIC nation States everywhere in the world, from the very
> > start, India has responded to the riddles of identity in the North-East
> > with
> > brute force rather than patient dialogue. In 1958, it responded to the
> Naga
> > movement with a draconian version of an old colonial law: The Armed
> Forces
> > Special Powers Act (AFSPA). This Act allows even junior officers of the
> > army
> > to arrest, torture or kill any citizen on mere suspicion, and to search
> and
> > destroy property without a warrant. It also stipulates that no army
> officer
> > or jawan can be punished without the sanction of the Central government.
> >
> > With every passing year, different districts of Manipur were brought
> under
> > this Act. By 1980, all of Manipur had begun to live under its shadow. It
> is
> > difficult to imagine the history of violence this Act has brought to
> > Manipur, and the “psychology of impunity” it has bred. Think of a
> conflict
> > zone — a place where death comes easy, where everyone is jumpy — and
> think
> > of young men enabled to do as they please, ungoverned by law, unmindful
> of
> > any punishment.
> >
> > *‘Our morality was so muddied and the fear of State and non-State players
> > so
> > rampant, even civil society had taken a backseat. Tehelka has retrieved a
> > bit of our humanity’*
> >
> > *Lokendra Arambam,* historian and dramatist
> >
> > In the 30 years that the Act has been valid in Manipur, hundreds of young
> > men and women have disappeared, been tortured, raped or killed. Despite
> > dozens of human rights reports, no action was taken against the army. In
> > 2004, the frustration pent up over decades spilled out like lava. A young
> > woman, Manorama Devi, was dragged out of her house in the middle of the
> > night by jawans of the Assam Rifles and led away. Her body was found the
> > next day, brutalised, raped. A spontaneous rage ran through Manipur.
> Amidst
> > protests across the state, a dozen elderly women stripped themselves
> stark
> > naked and demonstrated in front of the Assam Rifles headquarters carrying
> > searing placards: “Indian Army Rape Us.”
> >
> > Their extreme despair had a tiny impact: The Jeevan Reddy Committee was
> set
> > up to review the Act. Its recommendations have still not been
> implemented,
> > but in a minor victory, the Act and the army were removed from the city
> > districts of Imphal.
> >
> > In the five years since, a new monster has been born on Manipur’s already
> > ravaged landscape: the Manipur Police Commandos. With the army pulled
> back,
> > the state and Central governments took a conscious decision to groom a
> wing
> > of the state police to “stamp out” the insurgents. Unfortunately, that
> has
> > bred a fear in the people as crippling as their fear of the UG. As the
> > editor of*Ireipak,* Arun Irengbam, puts it, “The psychology of the AFSPA
> is
> > like a contagious disease. The commandos move around with the same sense
> of
> > impunity the army used to.”
> >
> > He is right. The official mindscape in Manipur is so militarised, it
> cannot
> > think of approaching any problem except through violent suppression. As
> in
> > every conflict zone, the arguments are complex. On the one hand are the
> > excesses of the insurgents: the extortions, the murders, the intra-outfit
> > killings. As a top police officer puts it, “We can either let things
> drift,
> > or we can decide to take action. The truth is, we are hitting back more
> in
> > the last two years. Look at how the Punjab problem was sorted out. I
> accept
> > our boys might go too far sometimes, but you have to understand their
> > psychology too. They too can be shot at any time and they get jumpy. Our
> > police stations are unviable. We have just 10-15 men, we need at least 58
> > per station. We need more men, we need more weapons.”
> > IT IS DIFFICULT TO IMAGINE THE‘PSYCHOLOGY OF IMPUNITY’ THE ACT HAS
> BROUGHT
> > TO MANIPUR
> >
> > But power is a heady pill and the atrocities of the army over 30 years
> have
> > found a twin face in the commandos. The two years since the police
> decided
> > to “hit back” coincide with a huge spurt in police atrocities. The brazen
> > killing of Sanjit — in broad daylight, in a crowded market — is only a
> > symptom. The list of similar (but unproven) illegal executions in just
> 2008
> > runs a mile long. Even if you suppose for a moment that they are all
> > militants, as the police might claim, Johnson Elangbam of the Apunba Lup
> > has
> > a timely reminder. “If even Kasab can be put on trial for Mumbai 26/11,
> why
> > don’t Manipuri boys deserve the same treatment under law?”
> >
> > This absence of law — the absence of sanity — has created a corrosive
> > paranoia in Manipur. Drive into Imphal and you feel the fear everywhere.
> > Jeep-loads of commandos drive around the city, heavily armed, shooting
> and
> > bullying at will. According to activists, in 2005, Lokhon Singh, a
> > commando,
> > was shot by Vikas, a PLA cadre, who in turn was killed. During Singh’s
> > funeral, the police stormed into Vikas’ house and arrested everyone in
> his
> > family. Then they allegedly gang-raped his girlfriend, Naobi. When Naobi
> > told the court, “They have taken whatever they could from my body,” an
> > officer apparently threatened her in front of the magistrate. No action
> was
> > taken.
> >
> > In another sign of this paranoid fear bred by the State, after TEHELKA’s
> > story on Sanjit’s fake encounter, journalists and activists in Imphal
> tried
> > hard to deter anyone from TEHELKA visiting Manipur. “We cannot assure
> your
> > safety,” they said. “The commandos are looking everywhere for the
> > photographer who gave you the pictures.” At the chief minister’s
> > conference,
> > local journalists who had helped us navigate the city asked us not to
> > recognise them for fear of reprisal. Sometimes, distrust can be more
> > damaging than empirical fear.
> >
> > *‘We can either let things drift, or we can decide to take action. The
> > truth
> > is, we are hitting back more in the last two years. That is how the
> Punjab
> > problem was sorted’*
> >
> > *Senior police officer,* requesting anonymity
> >
> > Ved Marwah, former super cop and former governor of Manipur affirms, “No
> > police in the country has a worse record than the Manipur police. There
> is
> > an allegation that they shot one their own officers in a fake encounter.
> > The
> > force is completely divided along ethnic lines and functions like the
> armed
> > militia of the ruling party. That place is like the Wild East.”
> >
> > There are immediate palpable reasons why the Manipur Police Commandos
> have
> > suddenly morphed into a new dragon face of the State. There is, most of
> > all,
> > the psychology of impunity. But since the decision to use the police and
> > army as a combined force to “stamp out” the insurgents, there has also
> been
> > a sudden rapid expansion of the force. From a mere 300, the commando unit
> > has shot up to a 1,000. Now, according to the police source, 1,600 new
> > commandos have been sanctioned. But where are these high caliber men to
> > come
> > from?
> >
> > Local journalists and activists speak of a massive recruitment scam. To
> > become a sub-inspector, you pay Rs 10-15 lakh with kickbacks running all
> > the
> > way to the top politicians. To become a commando, you pay Rs 5 lakh. To
> > become a rifleman, you pay Rs 1-2 lakh. Sources within the force confirm
> > all
> > this to be true. Unfortunately, logic demands you earn back what you pay
> > out
> > and the number of extortion demands by the police has risen
> proportionately
> > to the expansion of the force. Taking in former militants into the force,
> > as
> > well as giving gallantry awards to commandos who kill militants, have all
> > contributed towards creating a force that is, at least partly, motivated
> by
> > a combination of greed, testosterone, vendetta and unbridled power.
> >
> > “I admit 10-20 percent of our boys could be bad eggs,” says the police
> > officer. “We have to fine-tune their behaviour and make them more humane.
> I
> > also admit the AFSPA needs to be amended, particularly section 4 and 6
> > whose
> > wording now allows the boys leeway to torture or kill under any
> > circumstance. But, in general, the violence is unlikely to come down
> soon.
> > We need at least two years to clean up all this. We have to finish what
> has
> > been begun. And please don’t believe everything you read in the Manipur
> > press. First find out which UG outfit it is a mouthpiece for.”
> >
> > TRUTH IS, indeed, a difficult thing to ascertain in Manipur. The state is
> > like an illusory pool, you step into it, and you are lost. Militants and
> > politicians are friends. Commandos and extortionists are collaborators.
> > Friends are informers. Law enforcers are killers. Beneath the table,
> every
> > hand is interlinked.
> > TRUTH IS DIFFICULT TO ASCERTAIN IN MANIPUR. EVERY HAND IS INTERLINKED
> > BENEATH
> >
> > In early 2008, the police carried out a surprise raid in Babupara – the
> > elite colony where ministers and government officials live behind several
> > layers of thickly grilled iron gates. According to a top police source,
> who
> > asked not to be named, twelve KYKL insurgents were found in a Congress
> > MLA’s
> > house. According to the same source, UNLF cadres were also found in a MPP
> > member’s house. Others will tell you that politicians themselves inform
> the
> > UG about every new scheme that comes into the state – expecting tidy
> thank
> > you notes in return for their courtesy.
> >
> > What makes things worse is that, as the police officer alleged, the media
> > in
> > Manipur is certainly part of the many mirages in the state. A complex
> > matrix
> > of allegiance and coercion governs them. On August 4, for instance,
> > shockingly, *The Sangai Express*carried a glowing account of the KCP
> (MC),
> > a
> > proscribed militant outfit’s third anniversary. The next day, the paper
> > carried an open threat from the outfit to Vodafone masquerading as a
> story.
> > “Tabunga Meiti, secretary in-charge of the revolutionary government of
> the
> > KCP,” the story went, “says that the bomb attack at the office of
> Vodafone
> > was the first and last warning for not conceding to the request for some
> > monetary contribution to the outfit… To run an important organisation
> like
> > KCP which is fighting for the cause of a nation, money is required…”
> >
> > “The UG does try to use our papers as notice boards for their demand
> > notes,”
> > says Arun of *Ireipak* wryly. Issued a threat by the UG outfit a few
> years
> > ago for not toeing their ultra-revivalist line, he went underground for
> six
> > months, before he decided he’d rather die than live a life of a fugitive.
> > But many others cave in. As Pradip Phanjaobam, editor, *Imphal Free
> > Press,* says,
> > “The government also tries to issue guidelines to us, but we argue with
> > them. Most of our real self-censorship is out of fear of the UG.” Or out
> of
> > allegiance. For as another editor admits candidly, “I do have great
> empathy
> > for the UNLF.”
> >
> > *‘If even Kasab can be put on trial for Mumbai 26/11, why don’t Manipuri
> > boys deserve the same treatment under law? Why should they be
> eliminated?’*
> >
> > *Johnson Elangbam,* rights activist
> >
> > SANJIT’S MOTHER, Inaotombi, sits stoically in white against a bamboo pole
> > in
> > Khurai. She refuses to conduct the *shraddha* ceremony for her son till a
> > judicial enquiry is instated and the CM resigns. Inaotombi has borne more
> > than a mother should. Her son joined the proscribed PLA when he was 13
> > though she pleaded with him not to. By the time he was 20, he had a chest
> > injury and had come overground. Two years later, he was dead. She has
> three
> > other sons and must now contain their fear and anger. When the neighbours
> > start rattling a stone on a metal pole — a cops want to kill. What made a
> > 13-yearold boy join the PLA? Neither AFSPA nor commandos can answer that
> > question. The rift at the heart of Manipur is an internal one – between
> its
> > various ethnic groups. Neither AFSPA nor commandos can heal that either.
> >
> > Equally then, the intellectuals of Manipur could draw some lessons of
> their
> > own. How valid is the injured sense of alienation that has kept the
> > insurgencies buoyant over 30 years? “Is there space for us in the Indian
> > imagination?” own communities. It needs inclusive growth with inclusive
> > governance.”
> >
> > More emotional sensitivity from the Centre might help, though. When the
> new
> > Minister for the North-East, BK Handique was asked to comment on the
> crisis
> > in Manipur, he said, “Law and order is not our concern.” It should be,
> > though, because the militarisation has the Centre’s sanction and as
> Pradip
> > says, “You lose a bit of yourself every time you put up a fight. And you
> > lose more if nothing happens.”
> >
> > *WRITER’S EMAIL*
> > shoma at tehelka.com
> >
> > --
> > Rajkamal Goswami
> > PhD Student in Conservation Science
> > Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment (ATREE)
> > Royal Enclave, Sri Ramapura, Jakkur P.O.
> > Bangalore 560 064 Karnataka, India.
> > Phone: 080-23635555, extn: 145
> > Mobile: 09740362460
> > Fax: 91 80 2353 0070
> >
> > Web: www.atree.org
> >
> >
> >
> > --
> > Rajkamal Goswami
> > PhD Student in Conservation Science
> > Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment (ATREE)
> > Royal Enclave, Sri Ramapura, Jakkur P.O.
> > Bangalore 560 064 Karnataka, India.
> > Phone: 080-23635555, extn: 145
> > Mobile: 09740362460
> > Fax: 91 80 2353 0070
> >
> > Web: www.atree.org
> > _________________________________________
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>
>
>
> --
> Rajen.
> _________________________________________
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