Triumph over turmoil: Serene rebirth of Arunachal Pradesh's troubled triangle

Tirap, Changlang and Longding are three districts of Arunachal Pradesh that possess much more significance than meets the eye at first glance. The Tirap and Changlang areas of Arunachal Pradesh (Longding was later included in the ‘Triangle of Concern’) form a region that holds geo-strategic importance, connecting Assam, Myanmar and Nagaland. This region is also susceptible to trans-border insurgent activities and serves as a stage for the motivations, strengths and concerns of various anti-India organisations. These dynamics emerge from subterfuges that create a level-playing field for these organisations. I have undertaken multiple visits to the region and have witnessed the manner in which the expanse lends itself to (a) the cross-border agenda vis-a-vis India and Myanmar and (b) geo-strategic engineering by the NSNK(K), ULFA, affiliated groups of the NSCN (K) and, as I was informed by Brigadier Swarn Singh, even the NSCN(IM). The conduit is extremely novel, and if not for the Assam Rifles, the corridor would have been a veritable ‘grazing ground’ for the anti-India agenda of every hue and sort. Way back in 2001, I had visited the Assam Rifles HQ for a security briefing and, a few days later, had hiked to the far cranny of Lekhapani’s ‘Area of Responsibility.’ The briefing by the Commander of the 25 Sector (Assam Rifles), Brigadier Swarn Singh, on 7 October 2023, brought back memories of over 20 years ago. But the visit this time around was, I knew, going to be different. The flight from Imphal, where I visited Ground Zero in the war-torn state, to Dibrugarh lazed over a fog-filled runway. The clouds were refusing to allow a touchdown and the moustachioed Maharajah flirted with the clouds that had gathered to welcome us. I sat back, bemused, ‘unaware’ of the Air India captain’s announcement that ‘we have just 30 minutes of fuel left…we’ll circle over Dibrugarh and attempt an approach once the visibility is better.’ Indeed, the visibility, as one could fathom from my aisle seat myopia, was next to zilch. I could sense the anxiety in some of my fellow passengers. Perhaps the captain shouldn’t have confessed about the remaining fuel or the lack of visibility. However, years of enduring long-haul flights—over the Pacific and through turbulence—had strengthened my commuter composure. I remained smug. I thought about the Phumdis that I had seen from the helicopter flight from Imphal to Churachandpur instead. Dotted disk-shaped, spring green, speckled with Khangpoks were enough to keep my disquiet about the captain’s grave announcement at bay. The Phumdis reminded me of the fabled dancing deer, the Sangai, and the wonderful briefing that I had received from Maj Gen Rajan Sharawat, the Inspector General (South) of Assam Rifles. Maj Gen Sharawat is an out-and-out professional. Many years ago, I had the good fortune of lecturing at the National Defence College when he, as a Brigadier, was a student officer. As I looked down at the Loktak, I was filled with a mixed bag of sentiments. The ‘Land of Emeralds,’ which all of us know Manipur to be, is up in flames with brothers up in arms against brothers (even as sisters wept!). Still, it is people such as Lt Gen Pradeep Nair and Maj Gen Rajan Sharawat of the Assam Rifles who are holding the state together. I couldn’t have imagined a more tedious task. The fact that they are able to do it, despite great odds, is nothing short of a miracle. India and the North East need more officers such as Generals Nair and Sharawat. The Air India aircraft was taking longer than necessary in its hover above Dibrugarh. I was worried that we might be re-routed to Jorhat or some such place, which would have disrupted my itinerary. I also became a little concerned about the Liaison Officer and the entourage waiting for me at Mohanbari airport. They were supposed to escort me to Lekhapani and later to Miao. Indeed, the second leg of my eastern sojourn had just begun. It had been ordained by the Assam Rifles, its dashing DG, Lt Gen Pradeep Chandra Nair, and the IG, Maj Gen Vikas Lakhera. The journey had begun from Guwahati, via Jorhat to Mon, and then to Oting, back to Jorhat, and heading for Kohima—via Col Vikrant’s lunch—to Kohima, where Maj Gen Vikas Lakhera ensured my safe arrival. The second part of my tour took me to Imphal and Churachandpur, where I witnessed the ‘remains of the war-torn’ state and could discern the rumblings of the second phase of the conflict, which (as I now know) involved sniper assassinations, mobs attempting to overrun state police armouries and tit-for-tat abductions. Manipur is in flames. But as I reflected on the famished road that I had taken I was once again grateful that there were officers such as Lt Gen Nair to ensure that things wouldn’t quite careen out of control. I am a Rimcollian. But for my ill-gotten hypertension, the medical specialist in Bhopal would have sent me off to the National Defence College. It was a sad June day: the Year of our Lord 1983. The ‘Best Scientific Boxer’ in me—in RIMC that year—has never quite comprehended why my ‘Systoles’ had militated with my ‘Diastoles’. Earlier in the Pratap Section in Dehra Dun, I had even dreamt of Hunter Squadron and Camp Rover and how my vision of being an Assamese cadet would fit into the rigorous regime of the NDA. In 2022, I found myself speaking to a huge audience in the iconic Habibullah Hall. It was a curious moment for me. I had been trained to enter the NDA as a cadet, but here I was, an honoured guest. When the Commandant of the College, Vice Admiral Ajay Kochar, spoke about my boxing, cross-country run and gymnastic days in the RIMC to the cadets, a pang of grief surged through my veins. I was the Best Scientific Boxer in the year when I cleared the written examination and the SSB for entry into the NDA. However, the verdict of a stethoscope and a serpentine providence had other plans for me. I was destined to meander through different alleyways past the Yamuna, Potomac, Yongding, Seine and in later years, even the Siyom, Noa-Dihing, Lohit and Namka Chu before I eventually reached my keyboards. Reverie had taken me back forty years. But it was time to land. The clouds over Dibrugarh had cleared well in time for the Air India Captain’s fuel to be replenished. Now, I was in the land and in the hands of Brig Swarn Singh, Vasisth Sewa Medal, Commander of the 25 Sector of the Assam Rifles. I have met many Indian army commanders, but the gravity, modesty and poise of Brig Swarn Singh were humbling and endearing. I had spoken and corresponded with the officer for three long months about a visit to his ‘Area of Responsibility.’ Each time, ‘something back home,’ indifferent health, and even clouds overhead had interfered. But on 7 October 2023, I was finally meeting the officer who—I felt—was patiently waiting for my nomadic roundabouts to end. He was a matter-of-fact officer. His briefings were baptised by on-ground experience and to the point. He knew his terrain and also the terrain mapping that I sought. What’s more, he knew the affinities and the hostilities that crisscrossed his land. The latest aspects brought to bear the neo-politics of the land pertaining to Singphos, Chakmas, Noctes, Wanchoos, et al, that awashed the green of the Noa-Dihing. I kept entries in a diary—from 2001—even as I was patrolling with the Assam Rifles in the two districts. Excerpts from the pages of the diary are being reproduced for the reader to comprehend the real manner in which the NSCN(IM) uses Christianity by way of what it terms as ‘Op Salvation.’ It was 0545 Hrs when the Assam Rifles Company — which I was following — entered Pongchou Village. The climb to the village was steep, with a good 45-degree gradient. The Company Commander told his men to keep their eyes peeled on the overhanging cliffs—we were apparently negotiating an area where we could have come under militant fire. It had been reported the previous night that the ‘Naya Party,’ the name by which NSCN(IM) is known in Tirap and Changlang, as opposed to NSCN(K), which is the ‘Purana Party,’ had been seen in the vicinity. But the young captain assured me that ambushes on the Assam Rifles by the NSCN(IM) were few and far between. It was a more likely possibility that they would spirit away at the sign of our approach. Indeed, he drew my attention to the tom-tomming that was emanating from the village. It was, I was told, a message for the militants, to warn them of Indian Army presence. Later, one of the Assam Rifles Riflemen brought me the bamboo receptacle that was sending out the ‘message.’ It was a finely homemade instrument, and I could imagine the timpani it sent out across the cliffs, warning the ‘Naya’ and ‘Purana’ Parties that it is time to decamp. Pongchou Village’s church greeted us. But for its largeness and the cross on top that indicated that we were on hallowed grounds, it looked like an ordinary hut. Only the ‘Raja’s’ hut was bigger than the church. The ‘Raja’ invited us into his hut; it was rather dark, and some sort of meat was being smoked in a corner. The ‘Raja’ could speak Assamese. I asked him about the ‘Parties.’ He reluctantly agreed to the fact that the ‘Parties’ were visiting them but would not be drawn into a discussion about what they sought (a Ranapio—a person who acts as a ‘go-between’/dak runner/informer—later told me that the ‘Naya Party’ had been good to the villagers, teaching them about hygiene). The ‘Raja’ also told me that it had been days since the ‘parties’ visited his village. We were getting ready to leave when a man entered the ‘Raja’s’ hut singing hymns. He was the village pastor. In fluent English, he told us that he had come to the village a couple of years ago (after he graduated from the University of Delhi) to spread the word of Christ. He told us that he had settled in this village, having wed all the daughters of the ‘Raja.’ He was also a Naga. Although a communal statement is not merited at this point, the fact of the matter is that the NSCN(IM) had at the time instituted a novel method to ‘include’ Tirap and Changlang into their Greater Nagalim. The phrase they used was ‘Op Salvation’, and conversion to Christianity was one of the stratagems. It has succeeded too, as evident from my diary entry above. Almost every village had a Naga pastor, who was also invariably the ‘Raja’s’ son-in-law. In Pongchou Village, the Naga pastor had married all the daughters of the ‘Raja.’ It reminded me of the Mel Gibson blockbuster ‘Braveheart,’ where there is a scene showing the King of England, Edward I ‘Longshanks,’ telling his generals about enforcing Prima Nocta, the ‘privilege’ of English noblemen to sleep with a woman on the first night of her marriage in an attempt to breed the Scots out instead of fighting them out. The NSCN(IM), therefore, is trying to elbow itself into areas where it would provide the depth engineering it seeks. The organisation’s efforts in Arunachal Pradesh have already showcased the methodology. In Dima Hasao and Karbi Anglong of Assam, it has a tacit understanding with the militant outfits operating in the area, and there was a ‘Hebron Agreement’ some years ago between Dima Halam Daogah and the NSCN(IM). However, the inclusion of areas in states outside Nagaland will not be easy: the communities that are sought to be forcibly termed Nagas would resist it, as would the dispensations of Arunachal Pradesh, Assam, and Manipur. A resolution to the problem that characterizes the Naga issue is, therefore, not going to be one that can be ushered in with ease. But the fact of the matter is that Brig Swarn Singh and his DG, Pradeep Nair, and IG, Maj Gen Vikas Lakhera had completely changed the narrative. The NSCN(IM)’s attempts to cross over from Nagaland’s Mon onto Arunachal Pradesh and import their Op Salvation had been definitively halted. The sinister corridor that was being used by the insurgents from Myanmar, too, had come to a virtual end. Yes, there were camps across the Sagaing Division of the strife-torn country, but the inmates of these anti-India schemes were either being worn out or pushed to points of desertion. It is now time for far-off ‘sunrise’ thoughts in New Delhi to ferret out ways to pave correct pathways to Vijaynagar, where the ‘Sentinels of the East,’ the Assam Rifles, are the first to greet the Indian sun. It would also soon be one of the foremost places for visitors from lands afar to the enchanted frontiers. Lt Gen Pradeep Chandra Nair’s men who escorted me on my tour to Deban and beyond were boldly testifying to the joyous tidings. The writer is a conflict theorist and author. Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely that of the author. They do not necessarily reflect Firstpost’s views. Read all the Latest News , Trending News , Cricket News , Bollywood News , India News and Entertainment News here. Follow us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.