Operation Sindoor for the Mainland, Silent Surrender in Manipur

As the entire nation swells with pride on Operation Sindoor Day, celebrating the decisive strikes that erased foreign terrorists who dared spill Indian blood on sacred soil, a chilling silence engulfs the hills of Manipur. 

While the country basks in the glory of national resolve against external threats, Myanmar-based militants from the KNA(B) and PDF brazenly crossed into Indian territory. They torched homes in Kamjong district's border villages—Namlee, Wanglee, and Z Choro—kidnapped civilians including women from different communities, and unleashed terror on innocent souls. 

No red alerts blared across national channels. No candlelight vigils lit up Delhi's streets. No chest-thumping editorials decried this as an assault on India's sovereignty. Why? Because it happened in the Northeast. Again.

This is not mere oversight. It is a pattern—a deep, systemic indifference that treats the Northeast as a distant appendage, whose pains are "localised issues" unworthy of national outrage. 

For an inch of land in Kashmir or a skirmish in Galwan Valley, the nation unites as one. Parliament debates, TV studios rage, and the collective Indian conscience burns red-hot. But when hundreds of square kilometers along the Manipur-Myanmar border bleed—villages razed, families shattered, women abducted across communities, territory effectively ceded to foreign insurgents—who cares? 

The eyes of "every Indian" remain dry. Political parties issue perfunctory statements, if at all. Leaders in Imphal and Delhi alike shrug it off as yet another "border incident."

On May 7, 2026, in the pre-dawn hours, Myanmar-based militants struck with sophisticated firearms and explosives. Houses and vehicles went up in flames. In Z Choro village, almost every home was reduced to ashes—except the local church, a poignant symbol perhaps of faith enduring amid savagery. 

Villagers recounted horror: gunfire echoing through the night, families fleeing into the darkness. Multiple civilians were abducted, including Olina Ningshen (45), a Tangkhul Naga woman, wife of Lukcyson Ningshen, from Namlee village. Reports also point to the abduction of other individuals, such as a Tangkhul man named Zingran Ningshin, and crucially, one Meitei woman abducted from Wanglee Market managed a daring escape from the clutches of KNA(B) elements and returned safely to her family, her ordeal highlighting the indiscriminate nature of the terror. 
Myanmarese refugees sheltering in relief camps were also targeted and taken. This was no random raid by "local volunteers." Assam Rifles' own statement confirmed it as a combined force of KNA(B) and PDF intruded into Indian territory, carried out abductions, and operated with impunity. 

However, the response from our own state apparatus? Denial and deflection.Enter Manipur's Home Minister Govindas Konthoujam. Visiting the affected villages—accompanied by MLAs including Phungyar AC's Leishiyo Keishing—he admitted "gaps" in security deployment along the Indo-Myanmar border. Fair enough, one might say. Lapses happen. 

But then came the astonishing denial, "There is no report of foreign aggression." No mention of "foreign aggression" in the reports submitted to the government, he claimed, despite local MLA and organisations raising the alarm. He appealed for cooperation in installing "security fencing" and assured villagers of the government's commitment to protect lives and property.

When Assam Rifles explicitly stated they secured the release of Olina Ningshen from KNA(B) and Village Volunteers Eastern Zone (VVEZ), and with accounts of Meitei women also falling victim before escaping, the minister's narrative crumbled. Who, pray tell, will the government wait for—a signed confession from the terrorists themselves? Or perhaps a Kuki CSO to claim it was all a misunderstanding by "local volunteers"?

This is not incompetence alone. It reeks of a dangerous minimisation of threats that have plagued Manipur's borders for years. The Myanmar crisis—its civil war spilling over with PDF and ethnic armed groups—has turned our international boundary into a porous sieve. Refugees pour in, militants find safe havens, and Indian villages, regardless of whether inhabitants are Tangkhul Nagas or Meitei, bear the brunt. 

The abduction and subsequent escape of Meitei women highlights that this terror does not discriminate by community; it targets Indian civilians on Indian soil. Yet, the state Home Minister's careful wordplay—"examining the matter," no "foreign aggression" in reports—echoes a familiar script. 

When it suits political convenience, threats are downplayed. When it involves Kuki versus Meitei narratives, facts are twisted. Assam Rifles, the sentinels of our eastern frontiers, have spoken clearly. A Tangkhul woman was abducted by KNA(B) elements alongside others, and releases/escapes occurred due to their concerted efforts south of Z Choro. 

The evidence is irrefutable. Why the reluctance to call it what it is: foreign aggression on Indian soil? This incident lays bare the double standards that have long fractured India's response to its peripheral regions. 

On Operation Sindoor Day, the nation rightly honours the elimination of terrorists who struck at the heart of India. But what about the daily terror in Kamjong, Ukhrul, or Bishnupur? Why does the destruction of one house in Kashmir trigger national mourning, while entire villages in Manipur's borderlands burn, women from Naga and Meitei communities are snatched, and survivors recount nightmares without a whimper from the mainland? 

Is it because the Northeast's people, with their distinct features and resilient cultures, are still viewed through the colonial lens of "frontier tribes"—expendable guardians of remote borders rather than equal citizens deserving the full might of the Indian state?

The hypocrisy runs deeper. Political leaders and parties that mobilise entire ecosystems for perceived slights in the "mainland" fall conspicuously silent here. For Galwan, we demand accountability from China. For Manipur's border, we appeal for "cooperation" in fencing. 

The government remains "committed," the minister says. Committed to what—visiting the site after the damage, admitting gaps, and then passing the buck to villagers for fencing? This is not governance; it is damage control. 

The people of Kamjong—Tangkhul Nagas in the main, but with Meitei presence in markets and camps—deserve more than assurances. They demand action like robust deployment, intelligence-led operations, and diplomatic pressure on Myanmar to rein in these groups. 

Manipur has endured enough. The ethnic tensions since 2023 have already strained the social fabric. Now, foreign militants exploit these fault lines, intruding, abducting women across communities, and arsoning with impunity. The involvement of KNA(B)—a faction with known cross-border ties—cannot be wished away. 

Assam Rifles' press release and ground reports of multiple abductions (with some escapes) are not hearsay; they are operational truth from the ground. If the state government waits for "confirmation" before escalating to the Union Ministry of Home Affairs and Defence, it risks normalising these incursions. 

Tomorrow, it could be another village. Then districts. The security zones and fragile peace could evaporate. 

We must ask uncomfortable questions. Why this selective blindness? Is it electoral calculus—avoiding ruffling feathers in hill areas? Or the ingrained habit of treating Northeast crises as "management issues" rather than sovereignty breaches? 

The nation that celebrates surgical strikes elsewhere must wake up to the reality that our eastern flank is equally vital. Operation Sindoor symbolises zero tolerance for terror. That yardstick must apply uniformly—from Kashmir to Kamjong. No "localised" exceptions, and no selective outrage based on community.

The people of Manipur are not asking for pity. We seek equity. The blood spilled and trauma endured are Indian blood and Indian trauma.

As flames engulfed Z Choro's home, while the nation toasted its victories elsewhere, one truth rang clear: India's unity is incomplete if its eastern sentinels remain forgotten. 

On this Operation Sindoor Day, let the lesson sink in. Terrorism knows no regional boundaries or community lines. Neither should our resolve. The government in Imphal and Delhi must rise above denial. 

Call it foreign aggression. Act decisively on all abductions and escapes reported. Or risk losing not just villages, but the trust of millions who call the Northeast home. Manipur's borders are India's borders. Protect them as fiercely as you would any other.