Silent Scream: A History of Safest Haven to Crossroads of Fear Kohima

The tale of Nagaland, and of our capital Kohima, was once the tale of collective security of an implicit trust, a distributed possession. We wore our state’s identity as a badge of honour, boasting about it as the safest place in India for a woman. It was not merely an example but reality. It was in the liberty of a young woman to walk home alone in the darkness, with the comfort attitude that the community was our extended family.

Today, that arrogant announcement of being a proud Naga is like a distant fading echo of yesterday. The scream of every headline tells a different and heartbreaking truth. The news of every day is another wound: murder, cruel attack, molestation, rapped, robbery, fraud and you can name them. The very streets with which the feeling of security we felt, now whispers with fear. The question we have to put to ourselves which was not imaginable a generation ago is: “Is Kohima a safe place for women?”

Let us talk about a glimpse back to the world we have lost as we should not forget the past before we attack the present. It was the period when the doors were left unlocked, not because people were naive, but because they trusted their neighbours. Our mothers and grandmothers went about with an unconscious confidence. The tribe and the community provided safety to them through its embrace. There were crimes, but it was different in extent and in the pure brutality that we know nowadays. The societal ostracism of battering women was so great that it was the ultimate deterrent. The character of a man was judged by the treatment he gave to the weakest ones and to disgrace his family by doing so was worse than being convicted by the law.

The Destroying Now: An Unraveled Tapestry

Now, look around. Our social trust is becoming unraveled. The news is the relentless scroll of horrifying tales which leave us numb. A young girl is attacked as she goes home. Someone she knew takes away her life brutally. Women are raped in streets, molested in daylight and robbed. The worst forms of crimes are no longer a remote thing in the history of big cities; they are occurring here, in our hills, our neighborhoods. It is not merely a statistical change but it is visceral. It is the anxious phone calls that the daughters have to make when they leave home. It lies in the pepper sprays which now is a necessary accessory. It is in the dread that now is flashing the eyes of women who once walked proudly with their heads held high. This is the tragic reality that we are about to face. We are seeing our fundamental values being eroded and it is a painful thing to see.

Where Did We Go Wrong? What Are We Doing?

The question that is tormenting us is: Why? Is it the gradual watering down of our old values under the light of the rapid modernisation? Is it the parental authority and community responsibility erosion? Do we blame the toxic influence of the external media which sanctions violence and objectification? Is it that we have a failed justice system in which individuals with perpetrated crimes have a feeling of impunity? The reasons are hard to come by, but the result is easy: our women are paying the price. And in the light of this crisis we have to ask ourselves: What are we doing? Are we, as a culture, simply being reactive, posting our outrage on social media one day and then the next sadness of a tragedy before the next one takes up our focus. Do we educate our boys of respect and consent as fain as we educate our girls of safety? Are our tribe, civil society and church speaking with a united thundering voice, against this moral decay?

Wake Up, Naga People! This is Our Revolution. It is not the call of a vigilante justice, but a revolution of conscience. It is a wake-up call to get out of our sleep. These crimes should not become new normal of today. This revolution should start from home. It starts with fathers educating their sons that they should never use violence to show their strength based on the women. It starts with the mothers inculcating in their daughters a sense of unalterable self worth. It starts in our churches, whereby sermons should take care of this moral emergency. It starts with our tribal councils where defense of all the members including women should be the ultimate law. Our law enforcement should be held to higher standards; they need to be quicker in responding, must treat their cases with sensitivity and have the justice system administer swift and sure punishment. However, the community has to act before the police can act. The spirit of collective responsibility should be reborn.

“Rise up, Nagaland”. Do not let this continue. Not in our place. Not in our community. Not even in our families and tribes. It is the soul of Nagaland that is on stake. It is not negotiable in terms of the safety of our mothers, sisters and daughters. We should not be the generation that led to the destruction of our best heritage. Our generation shall be the one that erected itself; let’s join our hands together, to take it back. This is the need of the hour. This is our fight.

Petekhrienuo Kulnu,

Research Scholar,

Department of Journalism and Mass Communication,

Nagaland University, Lumami.