Sentina Ozukum
Mokokchung | August 19
In Nagaland, December is synonymous with Christmas. Festivity and warmth accompanies the wintry mist, the yuletide spirit hanging in the air well past Christmas Day, and into the New Year. The month in the calendar offered momentary escape, to a fear-weary civilian population treated to decades of chaos and military excesses as a by-product of the Indo-Naga political conflict.
One particular December, 30 years ago, the hill town of Mokokchung had just seen through Christmas and looking forward to call in the New Year. A military offensive in the heart of town was the last thing on anyone’s mind.
At around 10-10:30 am, December 27, 1994, people out and about in the town centre were rattled by the sound of gunfire. It turned out to be a starter to a brutal military crackdown that was to soon follow, as a unit of the Indian Army’s Maratha Light Infantry went on the offensive in retaliation to an alleged ambush.
LEST WE FORGET: The view of the main Police Point of Mokokchung after the destruction. (File Photo)
By the end of the mayhem, 11 civilians were dead. The toll read 7 gunned down, 4 burnt alive inside shuttered shops, several women raped and scores of buildings razed. The incident, one of many military excesses, unacknowledged in the corridors of Delhi, went on to be known as ‘Ayatai Mokokchung.’ ‘Ayatai’ is an Ao expression, signifying a state of extreme grief and mourning. It has no exact corresponding term in English.
Through a survivor
The events of that day still hangs heavy in the collective memory, continuing on a legacy of inter-generational trauma. One of the survivors, who did not wish to be known by his real name, recalled he was inside a shop where he worked. Respecting his wish for anonymity, he will be called Medem.
According to him, the town square, which barely a week ago was witness to a cheerful crowd turning out for the annual Christmas cake race, descended into chaos, the air reverberating with deafening explosions, gunfire and the screams of terror-stricken civilians, while crackling flames engulfed the buildings in the vicinity.
The gunfire continued till around 4:00 pm, while a bustling market place went up in flames, tension in his voice palpable as he described the horror of that day. “We were inside the shop when the firing began around 10:00 am. The army informed us not to close the shop if we wanted to live,” he recalled. The shop he worked at was just adjacent to the town square, from inside which he heard the screams of the civilians outside.
The people, who got caught in the melee, were corralled in the town square and forced to lay face-down on the ground, regardless of their age, gender or the state they were in. “Those who obeyed were safe but anyone who disobeyed was punished.” He said that the cries of the victims and image of bodies sprawled on the ground haunts him to this day.
Trauma & resilience
Medem lost people known to him that day. “I lost three friends (from the Marwari community) during the incident,” he said. In the aftermath, people, including business owners, who could afford, left the town. “Those of us who couldn’t afford to leave had to stay and slowly rebuild our lives,” he added.
The trauma lingered but Medem and others like him, with no choice, had to move forward, rebuilding their lives after the chaos.
“The most challenging part was the feeling of helplessness,” he said. Medem shared, “I remember looking around and seeing the devastation. Everything felt lost.” But he plodded on, trusting the gradual process of healing and rebuilding. In a place with a strong sense of community, resilience gleamed though the scars of the day. The town gradually revived its spark, while Medem, through hard work and determination, eventually came to own his own shop as well.
“It is crucial to educate the younger generation about these events to ensure they are not repeated,” he said, while emphasising the importance of unity and a collective commitment to peace.
Life before
“Before the incident, my life was very different,” he recalled, with a hint of nostalgia in his voice. He was working in a modest fabric shop, which walls were draped with colourful textiles, each highlighting the town’s rich social tapestry. Each day customers, both familiar and new, would come and go; adding to the lively chatters of the town.
According to him, the town was vibrant and peaceful, with the air filled with the buzz of daily life, from the chatters of locals exchanging greetings to the beat of tools clanging in the nearby workshops. He said it was a time of relative calm, far from the chaos that was to come.
The writer is a student of Peace and Conflict Studies at Tata Institute of Social Sciences, Guwahati. This report was written as part of her internship in The Morung Express.
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