In the early hours of October 23, 2022, I held my daughter, a two-month-old, close to me as I turned on my laptop. She was wrapped around me in a traditional Mizo shawl, fastened with a knot at the two loose ends. In the upcoming week, I planned to deliver a paper focusing on the theme of “National Media Representation of the Mizo War of Independence.” This presentation is part of my doctoral research, which explores how Mizoram, a small state in India’s northeast and one among twenty-eight in total, constructs its sense of national identity through media coverage of significant events, spanning from the post-colonial era to the present.
When I turn on my laptop I am greeted with a black and white picture of a family of eleven, my father, a young boy of ten standing in the middle surrounded by his uncles and aunts and two younger siblings. The picture is one of only two family pictures taken by my father and his family in their home village of Bawngchawm.
My father often told me how, in 1967, the Indian Army forced the entire population of his village to another village, as part of a regrouping attempt so they could more closely monitor them.1
My father used to hike up a barren hill every year to remember his home, before the forced evacuation and regrouping in a neighboring village. It is now a barren hill, the vibrant village that once stood there only exists in his memory.
But it was not just my father’s village. Out of 764 villages, 516 were evacuated and the people were compressed into 110 designated Planned and Peripheral Villages (PPVs). This was a result of a severe famine in 1959 which led to a rebellion of twenty years as pleas for assistance were met with indifference from state leaders. The Indian government decided to react with air strikes – the first and last time against its own citizens on March 6, 1966 – and other measures including the regrouping of villages.2
During my doctoral research, I have found that this information was not recorded or published. It is a forgotten history, deleted from the public memory, a history that was never meant to be. It exists only in the memories of the people, and the recounted history now that they have learned to read and write.
When I started my journey as a researcher, I was a young woman eager to learn and record her people’s history. But in the course of time, I became a parent, and it became clearer to me that whatever I write and record could be important for my children and future generations. On that particular October 23 morning, as I typed out my presentation with my daughter wrapped around me, my heart thumped loudly and I felt a strong surge of emotions. Because now I understand more than ever that the purpose of my research goes beyond the goals of publications and academic accolades.
On their last night in their village, the people from my father’s village in Bawngchawm did not sleep, instead they sang and cried through the night and by daybreak, every man had tears in his eyes. The papers and articles I write may garner hundreds of citations or none at all, but they will be a document that my daughter and her daughters can hold on to, to remember the history that has formed their identity.
This essay is dedicated to the author’s father, Lalchansanga Colney. A man who stayed true to his roots and faith and whose stories of resilience inspired many.
- After the bombing, the Union Government executed a policy known as the “regrouping of villages,” forcibly displacing thousands of Mizos residing in the hills and hamlets of present-day Mizoram.For more information, see David Buhril, “50 years ago today, Indira Gandhi got the Indian Air Force to bomb its own people,” Scroll.in, March 5, 2016, https://scroll.in/article/804555/50-years-ago-today-indira-gandhi-got-the-indian-air-force-to-bomb-its-own-people.
- Abheek Barman, “Air attacks in Mizoram, 1966 – our dirty, little secret,” The Economic Times, February 19, 2013, https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/opinion/et-commentary/air-attacks-in-mizoram-1966-our-dirty-little-secret/articleshow/18565883.cms?from=mdr