The Forgotten State: As the Northeast Rises, Manipur is Left Behind

In a grand auditorium in New Delhi, as ministers, bureaucrats, and business leaders raised their glasses to the promise of a rising Northeast, a quieter, grimmer reality remained buried in the background. The recently concluded Rising Northeast Investors Summit 2025 was billed as a landmark moment. And why not? A private conglomerate pledged a staggering 80,000 crore across eight states, sparking hope of transforming the region into a thriving hub for manufacturing and services linked to ASEAN and the BBN corridor. The speeches were ambitious, the vision compelling, and the enthusiasm palpable. Growth, it seemed, had finally arrived. But as one senior official noted offstage, “Let’s wait six months and see if the ground changes.” That quiet caveat, though, is not the most urgent story here.


For the “forgotten” people of Manipur, the passage of time feels cruelly static. Over 60,000 (or more) remain displaced, trapped in limbo by the conflict between the Meitei and Kuki-Zo-Hmar communities that erupted two years ago. Relief camps were clearly meant to be temporary shelters, but they now seem to be turning into semi-permanent settlements. Children are growing up behind tarpaulin walls. In one particular relief camp in Churachandpur, for instance, there is a severe scarcity of water. Privacy is not even a question as over 100 inmates currently share a makeshift toilet, separated from the outside world by thin plastic sheets. “More than 100 people in this particular camp, no proper toilet, no drinking water, no privacy, no table or desk for students to study, and not much scope for help. Looks like a forgotten community,” I am told. Of course, the young adults of Manipur are missing out on education, livelihoods, and any real vision of the future. And yet, the national conversation has moved on perhaps, not out of malice, but simply out of momentum. 


Will time and tide wait for anyone? It wouldn’t. I’m reminded of that old adage first heard in school in Imphal, where I grew up.


Clearly at least going by a very busy May calendar, the rest of the Northeast is celebrating. Sikkim, for instance, was in a jubilant mood, deservedly so. In Gangtok, the state was commemorating 50 years of statehood, or in other words its integration into the Indian Union 50 years ago, with a cultural crescendo: from literature festivals to butterfly races, folk music to state-wide dialogues on sustainability. The golden jubilee was not just an occasion; it was a reflection of a remarkable democratic journey. From a Himalayan kingdom to one of India’s most progressive states, Sikkim made its transition in 1975 not through coercion but by choice. Its people “voted for democracy, and in doing so, they didn’t just redraw a political boundary—they reimagined their future.”


The celebration’s centrepiece was a well-attended conclave, ‘State of The States Sikkim@50’, where Sikkim’s Chief Minister, Prem Singh Tamang, was hailed for his clean image and connection with the grassroots, received accolades alongside other leaders. Sikkim was applauded for being a rare democratic success, “green, grounded, and global.” The stories shared were about protected forests, AI-enhanced agriculture, and educational outreach to even the remotest valleys. There was vision, conviction, and continuity.



“And what a future it has become. Sikkim has not merely caught up with the rest of India—it has often sprinted ahead. It banned chemical fertilizers as early as 2003, and by 2016, it became India’s first fully organic state. Over 6,000 farming families now reap the benefits of healthier soils and premium prices. The UN’s Future Policy Awardoften called the “Oscar for best policies” recognized Sikkim globally for its pioneering work. The state leads India in cardamom production, exports organic produce worldwide, and remains one of the cleanest, greenest pockets of the country.” The audience was reminded of all the state’s achievements.


Mizoram, once marked by a difficult past, has made history by becoming the first Indian state to achieve full literacy. On May 20, 2025, Chief Minister Lalduhoma officially declared the state fully literate. This milestone is the result of years of steady investment in education and a strong, community-led effort under the Understanding Lifelong Learning for All in Society (ULLAS) Nav Bharat Saksharta Karyakram.This centrally sponsored scheme, running from 2022 to 2027, follows the guidelines of the National Education Policy (NEP) 2020. It seeks to support adults aged 15 and above from all backgrounds who missed out on formal education, helping them integrate into society and contribute more effectively to the country’s development.


In 2023, more than 3,000 people in the state were still non-literate. To address this, 292 students, teachers, and volunteers travelled across towns and villages, not for politics, but to bring education to those left behind. According to the latest PFLS survey, Mizoram now has a literacy rate of 98.2 per cent. In a country facing deep social and economic divides, Mizoram’s achievement shows what can be accomplished through focused policy and collective effort.


And then, there was Meghalaya, buzzing with energy, ambition, and an unmistakable sense of digital destiny.
A video of Chief Minister Conrad Sangma recently went viral. I took note of it, of course. His voice was full of pride as he announced the launch of a German language training programme in collaboration with the Meghalaya State Skill Development Society (MSSDS), Indie Talent, and 2Coms Group. Designed for overseas placements, the initiative is aimed at connecting Meghalaya’s youth with global job markets. In his speech, the Chief Minister described the programme as “super important,” emphasising that young people are Meghalaya’s greatest resource, and equipping them with international skills is a matter of both state and national interest.



But that’s just the surface. Meghalaya is charging into the digital age. Its government is deploying blockchain to manage employee data, IoT sensors (IoT sensors are physical devices that monitor environmental changes and gather data, serving as the link between the physical world and digital systems) to monitor water resources, AI to boost greenhouse farming, and robotics to enhance agricultural productivity. Shillong Tech Park, launched in 2022, is one of 300 projects introduced by the Meghalaya Government during the state’s Golden Jubilee year. With 74 per cent of the population under the age of 35 and 85 per cent under 45, Meghalaya is among the youngest states in the country. This demographic trend is shaping efforts to expand the state’s IT sector.


Two more tech parks are planned, with a combined job potential of around 15,000. The state is also advancing digital public services; over 1.3 million digitally signed certificates have been issued through its e-Governance platform, helping to cut bureaucratic delays.


To meet growing demand in fields like AI, cybersecurity, cloud computing, and software development, the “Skills Meghalaya” programme aims to train 120,000 young people by 2027.


Across the board, the Northeast is awakening. Or resurging. 


In many ways, the growing attention is genuine, as India shifts its focus to the Northeast—even if it carries the risk of diluting the region’s unique character and untouched, enigmatic quality. And certainly, for a region long excluded from the national narrative, this recognition is a milestone worth acknowledging. But so is the long suffering in Manipur, where none of these announcements—summits, tech parks, awards — translate into better living conditions, security, or closure. The state hosted its annual Shirui Lily Festival this year with a 6.3 crore allocation, a clear attempt to preserve cultural continuity. Held in Ukhrul district, far from the epicenter of violence, the festival seemed to showcase peace. But the splendour of the event was somewhat lost against the backdrop of grief and displacement.


For many, it felt more like an attempt to keep up appearances, to signal a return to normalcy while thousands remain in camps, waiting for basic amenities, waiting to go home.
What makes the contrast so unbearable is not that the rest of the Northeast is growing. It’s that Manipur is no longer part of that story — not in the headlines, not in the budgets, not in the development maps. It is, as some have started to say, being left to fester.


And yet, there is a difficult counter-argument that must be acknowledged. Should the rest of the Northeast and by extension, India halts its progress because Manipur is hurting? Would that not be unfair to the thousands in Assam, Nagaland, Tripura, Arunachal, and beyond who are striving for better futures? After all, consider this. Sikkim’s organic journey took years of dedication. Mizoram’s literacy drive wasn’t a reaction to the crisis; it was a product of long-term investment in people and values. Meghalaya’s digital aspirations are the result of visionary policy, not reactive politics.


The brutal reality is that time does not wait for tragedy. It continues to move. And the consequences of being left behind are borne not by those who succeed, but by those who cannot yet begin healing.
Still, one cannot help but feel uneasy. As the Northeast writes new chapters of success, one of its own remains in the footnotes, unsolved and untreated. Is it moral to celebrate while a part of the same region suffers in silence? Or is it practical to move forward, knowing that halting grief would help no one?


There is no easy answer. But there is a better question: Can we move forward without moving on?
Can we build roads and industries in Assam, grow startups in Shillong, and go organic in Gangtok—while also ensuring that Manipur is not left to decay behind barbed wires and barricades? Can the Northeast rise not by forgetting Manipur, but by helping it heal?


Because at some point, the silence around Manipur stops being ignorance and starts being indifference. And that indifference will not just hurt Manipur. It will erode the very foundation of regional solidarity.
Manipur does not need the world to stop. But it does need it to look back. To reach out. To act.
The Rising Northeast will be truly meaningful only when no state is left behind in its shadows.