In Nagaland, stepping out of the circle is not easy. You will be called anti-tribal, anti-party, anti-faith. You will be isolated.
I watched this while I was returning from Kohima to Dimapur on a Saturday rainy night. Scrolling through social media reels to pass the long journey, I came across a raw video from rural India. A large bonfire was lit for a traditional event. A man herding goats walked his flock around the fire — once, twice, thrice. Then he stepped away. But the goats kept going. Round and round they went. No leader. No destination. Just movement for the sake of movement, blindly following the one ahead.
Suddenly, it was not just a circle. It was a cycle. A vicious, self-perpetuating loop. As the rain hit the windshield on that Kohima-Dimapur road, I could not stop thinking about Nagaland.
How often do we do the same? In our villages, in our churches, in our politics, in our student bodies and tribal hohos — we keep circling. Not because we believe in the fire in the middle, but because we are conditioned to follow the one in front of us. To step out of the circle takes courage, and in a small, close-knit society like ours, courage can feel like betrayal.
We have many fires we circle around.
We often vote for our tribe, not for a vision.
We support a candidate not because of merit or roadmap, but because "our man" is there. We know there is no clear plan, but we follow because our tribe, our village, our range is following. The circle continues.
We continue to circle around political divisions we did not create.
For decades, Naga society has lived with factional loyalties. In every organisation, celebration and appointment, we check which camp, which group, which patron it belongs to. We move without asking why.
We sometimes follow the ritual of faith without practising its substance.
We are a deeply Christian state, and that is our strength. But sometimes faith becomes formality. We follow the form — Sunday service, fasting prayer, conventions — without questioning whether we are living out compassion, honesty and justice, or simply circling the bonfire of religion.
We keep circling around the same patronage system hoping for favour.
A youth who wants a government job, a contract, a backdoor appointment knows the system is broken, but he keeps circling around the same political godfather, hoping some ash of favour will fall on him. Because everyone else is doing it.
The tragedy of the goats is not that they were foolish. It is that they were conditioned. The herder left, but the conditioning remained.
That is happening to us.
Our biggest social issues today — unemployment, drug abuse among our youth, the exodus of talent, the distrust between overground and underground, the slow death of our own work culture — are not just policy failures. They are the result of years of blind circling. We have been in motion, but not in direction.
We need to stop and ask: Is this custom helping us, or are we just following it because our forefathers did?
Is this leader leading us somewhere, or are we just following because others are following?
Am I supporting this because I believe in it, or because I am afraid to be the one who steps out?
In Nagaland, stepping out of the circle is not easy. You will be called anti-tribal, anti-party, anti-faith. You will be isolated. But that is the price of thinking.
The state does not need more people walking in circles. It needs people who have the courage to stop, look at the fire for what it really is, and walk in a straight line towards a purpose.
So ask yourself today — are you thinking, or are you just following?
Are you chasing purpose, or are you just circling the flame?
Mathew Rongmei