In Kuki-Zo Regions, a Banner Speaks - To Restore Peace in Manipur, Mother India must give birth to Kukiland

"To restore peace in Manipur, Mother India has to give birth to a new baby ‘Kukiland’ — Union territory for the Kuki-Zo People."

A giant banner bearing these words hangs across buildings, shopfronts, and road crossings along National Highway 2 in Motbung and Kangpokpi District Headquarters. Stark in black and red, the banners carry a quieter but no less forceful message — one that reflects a deepening conviction among many in the Kuki-Zo community: that Manipur can no longer be stitched back together.

For the Kuki-Zo people, these banners proclaim, the only path to lasting peace is a new administrative reality — one that grants them a Union Territory under the Indian Constitution, governed directly by New Delhi.

This message, now displayed at multiple prominent locations across Kangpokpi district, is more than a slogan. It is a political and emotional declaration — a bold assertion that coexistence between the Kuki-Zo and Meitei communities has irreparably broken down. Any return to the pre-conflict status quo is seen as neither possible nor acceptable.

Meanwhile, in the Imphal Valley, daily protests have erupted, spearheaded by Meitei civil society groups, student bodies, and organizations under the banner of the Coordinating Committee on Manipur Integrity (COCOMI). Since May 27, demonstrators have intensified their agitation — locking down central institutions, shouting slogans, burning effigies, and blocking key roads in a display of unified opposition to any perceived threat to Manipur’s territorial integrity.

But in the hills of Kangpokpi, resistance takes a different form. There are no megaphones or street marches — only banners. Silent, yet deeply symbolic, they express the anguish of a community that feels abandoned by the state, ravaged by conflict, and left with no other option but to demand protection through direct central governance.

This new wave of public expression closely follows a similar development in Churachandpur, where posters were recently put up portraying the fundamental incompatibility between the Meitei and Kuki communities. Like the banners in Kangpokpi, the authors of those messages remain unknown — but the sentiment behind them is rapidly gaining visibility.

Voices from within the Kuki-Zo community stress that this movement is not one of secession. Instead, they describe it as a call for protection, recognition, and a constitutional solution that secures their survival — physically, politically, and culturally.

“There is no going back. We cannot live under the same administration that failed to protect us,” said a young Kuki leader in Kangpokpi, speaking on condition of anonymity. “We are asking for peace. For that, we need a different home — not outside India, but away from Imphal.”

Each banner in Kangpokpi, then, is more than fabric and ink — it is a testament to the collapse of trust. While the streets of Imphal echo with chants defending the idea of a unified state, the skyline of Kangpokpi reflects sorrow, betrayal, and the painful realization that shared governance has failed.

“Who put up the banner and why, I don’t know,” said another youth standing by the roadside, gazing up at one of the signs. “But it reflects the sentiment of the entire Kuki-Zo community and this is the wish of every Kuki-Zo people.”