Wungreiyon Moinao
IN 1955 Pete Seeger wrote the famous song ‘Where Have All The Flowers Gone?’ expressing disdain for war. The song is cyclical in nature expressing the futility and the unending cycle of war. It opens with a simple question “Where have all the flowers gone?” And comes the answer- they are all picked up by the young girls. What do the girls do with the flowers? The girls have given them to their loved ones. Where have the boys gone? They have gone to fight in a war and to return home only to be buried in a graveyard. And where have the graveyards gone? From the graveyard blooms the beautiful flowers to be plucked again by the next generation of girls for their loved ones. The hard-hitting line in the song is the refrain “When will they learn, when will they ever learn?” that pokes fun at the naivety or ignorance of the young girls and the society.
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Listening to this song I cannot help but ask myself the question- where have all the Tangkhul MLAs gone? For the first time in the history of the Tangkhuls, the community has uniformly elected three MLAs from the same political party that purportedly strive for the rights and identity of the people. The election result was celebrated with much fanfare, marching and singing gospel hymns. The sane and the lunatic alike proudly proclaim that their visions have finally come true- a vision of unabashed roosters crowing in the hills of the Tangkhul. The Roosters were elected affirming “To work and assist in any possible manner on any approach for a peaceful solution of the Indo-Naga political issue, thereby moving towards a renaissance of Naga brotherhood by making constant appeal to Naga conscience within and without (Article II, Clause 2(a) of the party Constitution).”
Where have they all gone today? Are our lives any better now that the Roosters are here? Yet here we are walking on the same dusty roads, gazing at the same debilitated educational and medical facilities and lacking all other basic amenities to have a decent life. And our rights and identity waning away each passing day. Are the Roosters really crowing or are they kept shut inside their respective coops with their muffled voices? Or have the Roosters turn out to be shams or have we failed to identify the right Rooster?
We have often been swayed and beguiled by simple political gimmicks of the establishment. Not long ago we rejoiced when one of our representatives was granted an inconsequential position of Advisor to the Chief Minister and our hearts throbbed when Shirui Festival came to town for the first time not realising a tripartite talks on alternative arrangement was taking place in Senapati on the day the festival commenced, allowing the media to bury the more important event into oblivion. Just recently, the government held a cabinet session in Ukhrul announcing the district to be soon made the summer capital and forged an unholy bond of brotherhood. Rather than questioning the politics of such moves, we were too quick to beat the celebratory drums. We sing of the flower but are not mindful of the land that produces the beautiful species.
When will we learn, when will we ever learn? Have we, like the naive love stricken young girls, squandered our precious votes eyeing only for the flowers, not discerning the graveyard underneath? Should we continue to chime the concocted and redundant note of we are the ‘Jerusalem of Manipur’ while our life is half buried in a grave and the world getting far ahead of us?
Where have all the Roosters gone? Have they stopped crowing or have they moved their coops from the hills to the valley? Why have they gone mute when churches were ransacked and burned? Not long ago, they were heard crowing the name of God while gathering votes but when the house of God is destroyed, they have stooped crowing. Where are their voices when many of our innocents, the people who have put them on their chairs, are waylaid on the road randomly to be heckled, molested and beaten? Not even a whimper. A lot many condolence messages were conveyed for the dead but not even a whimper is heard for the living victims or sufferers. A simple note of empathy for the victims or condemnation for the incidents would have sufficed. But no, they are too absorbed in keeping their chairs in the valley, intact.
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Why have all the Roosters gone silent on the scrapping of Free Movement Regime (FMR)? While ministers from other states are raising their voices, our Roosters remain cold as ice. The Free Movement Regime was never acknowledged by us from the beginning. This is India’s post-independence construct to show its far-reaching arm of authority. Even before the colonial period and the birth of India, we have always been living together with our kindreds who now live beyond the artificial boundary. By remaining silent we have allowed Delhi to invade our homes and monitor our movements in our own backyards. Shouldn’t it be their cardinal concern to protect the land and its people? They have failed miserably. They have relinquished their responsibilities of representing the peoples’ interest without relinquishing their chairs.
For too long the Roosters have been playing Hide and Seek- disappearing when their presence are needed the most and appearing only during occasions or festivals as chief guests with their claptrap. Aren’t we curious to know why they do what they do? Is it in their own wisdom to remain hidden and eschew the cry of the public or is there a Svengali at the backdrop to manoeuvre them? Most likely they have been an obedient Roosters taking orders from the invisible Svengali. Who can this be? The answer is obvious and is out there for everyone to see.
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It is clear that they have stopped to be MLAs. They are bureaucrats clothed as People’s representatives. Bureaucrats, because they neither act of their own volition nor have independent opinions. They speak what they are asked to speak and do what they are asked to do, exactly like how a bureaucrat functions in government’s offices. And yet we still take them to be decision makers and allowed them to lord it over us.
Being in a society, where we are expected to lead a circumscribed lives within a marked parameters and are censured if we deviate from the accepted laid down norms, we have been taught to simply respect the elders and the leaders without questioning their judgements or decisions. But our leaders have taken the public for a ride for too long and without any civility and restraint of words it is time for the public to say, “To hell with the Roosters! Let them remain hidden and never appear again. We will choose our new Roosters uncoerced by external force. To hell with the Svengalis! They no longer represent the aspirations of the public.”
Wungreiyon Moinao teaches Literature at Tagore Govt College of Arts, Pondicherry University. Views are personal. The author can be reached at moinaoayon@gmail.com.
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