Leopold Café and the Mizo Peace Accord: A Tale of Scars, Struggle, and the Pursuit of Peace

Leopold Café – Mumbai’s Symbol of Resilience

Leopold Café and Bar, located in the heart of South Mumbai, is not just a restaurant—it is a symbol of endurance, history, and communal unity. Established in 1871 by Iranian immigrants, it began as a wholesale oil store before transforming over the decades into a general store, then a pharmacy, and finally into the iconic café it is today.

When I visited Mumbai recently, Leopold Café was one of the top items on my personal bucket list, right after the Gateway of India. I went there particularly for the famed buffalo soup, though unfortunately, it was not available at the time. I tried other dishes instead, savouring not only the food but the atmosphere steeped in history and memory.

Interestingly, the café is named after King Leopold of Belgium—most likely Leopold I. However, many associate the name with Leopold II, one of history’s most brutal colonial rulers, notorious for his atrocities in the Congo Free State. The irony of such a name associated with a place of peace and diversity in India offers an additional layer of reflection.

Leopold became internationally recognised after its mention in Gregory David Roberts’ bestselling novel Shantaram. But its place in world consciousness was cemented by a tragedy—the 26/11 Mumbai terror attacks in 2008. On that fateful night, at around 9:30 PM, it was among the first locations targeted by the terrorists. Armed gunmen fired upon the café from outside, killing 11 people and injuring 28 others. The attack left permanent marks—bullet holes in the walls and shattered glass—that remain visible to this day.

Unlike many other establishments that might have covered or repaired the damage, Leopold chose to preserve these scars. They serve not as grotesque reminders of violence, but as dignified symbols of resilience, of pain confronted and transformed. People from all over the world continue to visit, not only for the food but to witness this living memory—a café that chooses remembrance over revenge.

The Mizo Peace Accord – A Journey from Armed Struggle to Harmony

Long before Indian independence, the Mizo people had a distinct system of governance through hereditary village chiefs. When the British arrived in what they called the Lushai Hills (now Mizoram), they continued to recognise and work with these chiefs to administer the region.

As independence approached, political consciousness began to grow among the Mizo people. In 1946, the Mizo Union, the first political party in the region, was formed just before the British exited India in 1947. However, post-independence, the Mizo-inhabited areas were divided among India, Burma (Myanmar), and East Pakistan (now Bangladesh). Within India, Mizos were scattered across Assam, Manipur, Tripura, and what was then the Lushai Hills District.

In 1952, this district was officially made part of Assam. However, dissatisfaction simmered among the Mizos, particularly among youth who feared the erosion of their cultural identity under Indian influence. The situation worsened when Mautam, a cyclical ecological phenomenon that causes famine every 48–50 years, struck the region in 1959. During the crisis, many Mizos felt neglected by the Indian central government and the Assam state government.

This frustration led to the formation of the Mizo National Famine Front (MNFF), a group that later evolved into a political movement. On October 22, 1961, the Mizo National Front (MNF) was officially established with Laldenga as its president. The MNF demanded complete independence from India and aimed to unite all Mizo tribes spread across international borders.

On March 1, 1966, the MNF declared Mizoram an independent nation. The Indian government responded with military action and thus began a violent and prolonged insurgency. The people of Mizoram endured two decades of armed conflict, witnessing massive loss of lives, destruction of homes, broken families, and widespread trauma. Churches were affected, villages were burned, and countless people lost not only their possessions but also their dignity and hopes.

The Peace Accord – The Turning Point

After 20 years of conflict, sustained efforts by NGOs, church groups, political leaders, and civil society paved the way for peace. On June 30, 1986, a historic Peace Accord was signed between the Government of India, the Government of Mizoram, and the MNF. This accord did not merely end an armed conflict; it restored trust and gave birth to a new era of reconciliation.

The day the accord was signed is now celebrated annually as Remna Ni— ‘Peace Day’ in Mizo. On that day in 1986, the streets of Mizoram echoed with tears, songs, drums, and dances of joy. Children dreamed not of wealth, but of playing safely in the streets. For a generation that had known only fear, peace was the most precious gift imaginable.

The MNF, once a militant organisation, transformed itself into a political party within the Indian democratic framework. Since the accord, the MNF has not supported any other insurgent or separatist movements. Former MNF leaders continue to live peacefully, honouring the commitments made in 1986. Their loyalty and sincerity remain exemplary in the history of peace processes in India.

Two Stories, One Lesson

The story of Leopold Café and the story of Mizoram may seem unrelated on the surface—one is an urban restaurant, the other a state in Northeast India—but both offer profound lessons on pain, remembrance, and peace.

Leopold Café was attacked by Lashkar-e-Taiba, a Pakistan-based Islamist terrorist organisation. Yet, the café never adopted a policy of hatred or exclusion. It continues to welcome customers from all walks of life, including those from Muslim-majority regions. It chose forgiveness over vengeance, remembrance over bitterness. It proudly preserves the bullet holes as symbols—not of defeat, but of dignity.

Similarly, Mizoram’s past is full of bloodshed and brokenness. The MNF once raised arms for independence but later chose reconciliation and peace. Since the accord, Mizoram has not witnessed any major political violence or insurgency. It remains one of the most peaceful states in India—a shining example of how former rebels can become constructive participants in democracy when given trust and respect.

The people of Mizoram do not forget the cost of their peace. Remna Ni is not just a day off; it is a collective memory of sacrifice, resilience, and forgiveness. Like the scars in Leopold Café, it is a celebration of survival, not sorrow.

Conclusion: Peace Is Priceless

Peace is not an abstract ideal—it is tangible, vital, and often, painfully earned. While the neighbouring regions of Mizoram in Myanmar continue to suffer civil war, and nearby Indian states like Manipur face ethnic conflict and political unrest, Mizoram stands as a testament to what peace can build.

Let us not take peace for granted. It cannot be bought. It must be cultivated, protected, and respected. Our democracy and secularism are only as strong as our commitment to nonviolence and mutual respect.

Both Leopold Café and Mizoram teach us that scars should not be hidden—they should be honoured. They remind us of what we have endured and why we must never go back. Let us spread love, practice forgiveness, remember the past, and protect the future.

Peace is not a weakness. It is the highest strength of people who have seen the worst and still choose the best.