My dear Naga brothers and sisters,
I write this letter not as someone who has figured life out, but as someone still learning; often through mistakes, pain, and the slow, humbling work of self-examination.
I do not write from a place of righteousness. I carry my own share of pride, prejudice, and failure. I have misunderstood people. I have held onto bitterness longer than wisdom would allow. Life has been a patient teacher, and I remain one of its slowest students.
Yet through this long and often uncomfortable process of learning, one truth has emerged clearly: there is a deep and growing bitterness among us today, rooted in the wounds of our past. There are real losses and wounds among us that need to be acknowledged today. The pain is real and it must never be denied or diminished. But I have come to understand something equally important—the solution to our problems does not exist in the past. It exists in how we choose to live today.
When we speak, let us speak the truth with humility, so it can be heard without prejudice. Aggression and self-righteousness do not strengthen our message but weakens it. The moment we begin blaming or attacking, people stop listening and start doubting our intentions. There is no answer waiting behind us. If we want progress, it must be built in how we speak and act today.
We must not let history haunt us but at some point, we must learn, remember and then release. Let us stop organizing our lives around that which is already gone. My appeal goes to both young and old alike.
Life has taught me another sobering truth: We behave as if time will wait, as though tomorrow is guaranteed. It is not. Tomorrow is a possibility, not a promise. All we truly possess is today; this fragile and fleeting present moment. And it is this present, not the past or some imagined future, that quietly shapes whatever tomorrow may come.
Yet too often, we destroy today in pursuit of something abstract, something we hope to achieve “someday.” In doing so we damage relationships, justify cruelty, and postpone compassion. We convince ourselves that sacrifice is necessary, that the end will vindicate the means, and that our children will thank us for the hardness we showed today.
Consider the pattern we have inherited: Our ancestors sacrificed for our forefathers. Our forefathers suffered for our grandfathers. Our grandfathers endured hardship for our fathers. Our fathers gave up their peace for us. And now, we are doing the same, sacrificing our present for our children’s future.
Generation after generation, we have postponed living, postponed peace, postponed joy, always for the sake of the next generation. But when does it end? When does any generation actually get to live the good life that all the previous generations suffered to create?
If this cycle continues unchecked, no generation will ever truly live. We will become nothing more than bridges to a promised land that no one ever reaches.
Yes, we must plan for the future. Yes, we must think of our children. But not at the cost of making today so unbearable that we teach them; that life is meant only for suffering. There must be balance. We must build a future, but we must also live today, with dignity, with love, and with some measure of peace. Otherwise, what are we passing down except the blueprint for perpetual sacrifice?
And perhaps this is the most important thing for us as Nagas, not as tribes, not as factions, not as competing narratives of victimhood but as a people and as a family: to know that in times of genuine need, we will not turn away from one another.
I do not have all the answers. I am still learning. I will continue to stumble and fall short. But I believe this with increasing conviction; we do not have to destroy today in pursuit of a tomorrow that may never come. Let us choose dignity over dominance, understanding over suspicion, brotherhood over bitterness, not someday but today.
If we waste it waiting for the perfect moment to forgive, to reach out, or to begin again, that moment will never come. The perfect moment is a lie we tell ourselves to justify inaction. This imperfect moment is enough.
The solution to our problems will not be found by endlessly reopening old divisions, preserving every grievance, or teaching our children to inherit our enemies. It will be found in the present in how we treat each other now, in the choices we make today. If tomorrow exists, it will be shaped by today. Unity will grow not from grand declarations but from ordinary acts of restraint, kindness, and quiet courage.
Let us begin with small things: how we speak, how we disagree, how we show up for one another. Let us take unity as a responsibility.
With humility and hope from a fellow Naga, still learning.
(The author is Interim Convenor, Western Naga Youth Front. Views are personal)
Also Read: The Battle Within