Choked up in Manipur

Diana Ningthoujam

In Imphal's Khwairamband Bazaar, Sangeeta RK, a housewife and mother of two, is buying grocery and toiletries in bulk, defying the logic of penny pinching at a time when prices of essential items have catapulted because of the economic blockade in Manipur. But she has a logic of her own: "We cannot cut back on everyday items, so I am buying more right now when these things are still available. Thankfully, the state hasn’t reached a stage yet when we have run out of things. Of course, I cannot pamper myself with clothes and shoes. Already, our daily expenditure is much more than R1,000.”
Grocery shop owner Nambam Tombi is a witness to this hoarding. “Though we still get a supply of grocery items and other sundries, we are being forced to sell them at prices above the MRP. But despite the escalated prices, people do not cut back; rather they buy more, fearing things will run out
of stock.”
Living under the shadow of an over 100-day blockade, one can’t blame residents of Manipur for this insecurity. Even before they could breathe a sigh of relief on the midnight of October 31, when the Sadar Hills Districthood Demand Committee (SHDDC) lifted the longest-ever economic blockade in the history of Manipur after 92 days, the two main Naga bodies in the state—the United Naga Council (UNC) and the All Naga Students Association Manipur (ANSAM)—decided to show their disapproval. On November 1, reacting strongly to the signing of the MoU between the government of Manipur and the SHDDC, they escalated their counter-blockade, which they launched on August 21. The state is still in a gridlock.
A government report pegs the losses incurred in the state during the 92-day blockade by the SHDDC at R245 crore—a criminal waste when the state is stuttering from underdevelopment, rampant corruption and massive unemployment.
A 55-year-old government employee gives vent to her frustration, but on the condition of anonymity: “The people of Manipur are very tired and angry. Rice, vegetables, eggs, all have become a luxury. The blockade has driven up prices in Manipur by as much as 300%. An LPG cylinder costs R2,000. It’s a pity to have come upon such hard times in a place where you were born and brought up.”
Her brother, meanwhile, prepares to spend the night at a petrol pump just to get his car filled up. It’s difficult to fathom what hurts more—the chilly winds that he has to brave all night or the fact that petrol costs R170 a litre.
And though buses and autos still ply on the roads, the petrol shortage has made the rides more expensive. The worst hit are schoolchildren, who are unable to reach school several times as the school vans fail to get any fuel. Sangeeta RK adds here: “Even though school vans have a separate line at petrol stations, they sometimes fail to get petrol. So we are forced to make separate arrangements or not send our children to school at all.”
But amid all this, the state and its people go about their business, resigned to the daily challenges and even adapting to them.
As Moirangthem Amarjit, a resident doctor at JN Hospital, does, "The routine medical supply that we used to receive at government hospitals pretty much ceased around two months back. It has become very irregular. Sometimes we ask patients to buy even syringes or IV fluid. At times we have used mineral water to clean wounds as we ran out of saline water. Our scarce provisions are kept aside only for emergency situations.”
Asheema Haobijam, a Manipuri student at Lady Hardinge in New Delhi, aptly sums up the bleakness of the situation: “My brother, despite being well educated and qualified, is unemployed in Manipur. He is running from pillar to post in search of a job, but it is futile. He would have to cough up lakhs and crores as a bribe to even get a job at a lower level. On top of all this we have blockades, which are slowly smothering society.”