‘Silent Scars’: Groundbreaking Book on Kuki-Zo Women’s Struggles in Manipur Conflict Released in Delhi

The Kuki-Zo Women’s Forum, Delhi & NCR, yesterday released a new book – Silent Scars: Weaving Stories of Kuki Zo Women in Manipur Violence, chronicling the harrowing experiences of Kuki-Zo women during the state-sponsored ethnic cleansing that erupted in Manipur on May 3, 2023. The launch event, held at the NCUI Convention Centre in New Delhi, was graced by veteran journalist and editor of The Shillong Times, Patricia Mukhim, who officially unveiled the publication.

The book serves as a heart-wrenching record of the suffering endured by Kuki-Zo women over the past two years. It documents the stories of women who were brutally killed, those who died due to a lack of medical attention, and mothers who lost their lives or their babies during childbirth amid the chaos. Survivors of the violence and their testimonies also form a critical part of the narrative.

“This documentation is not just a book; it is an urgent cry for justice and recognition of the pain that has been long ignored,” said a representative of the Kuki-Zo Women’s Forum during the event.

The book also highlights the ongoing struggles of the Kuki-Zo community, including their inability to return to the Imphal Valley due to persistent security concerns. Many still avoid using the Imphal airport, opting instead for arduous routes to Dimapur or Aizawl—an issue the Forum criticized as evidence of government indifference.

The documentation team behind the book was commended for their extensive ground research and dedication to preserving this dark yet significant chapter in the history of the Kuki-Zo people.

As the conflict enters its third year, the Kuki-Zo Women's Forum calls on the Indian government to acknowledge these atrocities and take concrete steps toward justice, reconciliation, and lasting peace.

About the Book

The book Silent Scars: Weaving Stories of Kuki-Zo Women in the Manipur Conflict is not just a collection of testimonies—it is a political act, a collective refusal to stay silent. It lays bare the pain of Kuki-Zo women—women who have been displaced, raped, denied healthcare, and forgotten by the very systems meant to protect them.

This book is a confrontation with state failure, societal indifference, and the violence of silence. The Manipur conflict, driven by deep-rooted ethnic hatred and the dominance of a Meitei-controlled state apparatus, has produced a form of violence that is not only physical but symbolic. Women’s bodies have become battlegrounds.

The contributors to Silent Scars give voice to this pain. Their work is vital. Dr. Hoineilhing Sitlhou and Dr. Josephine Kipgen write powerfully on how social media—weaponized by the dominant Meitei narrative—has incited gender-based hatred, legitimized voyeurism, and amplified violence.

Mercy Kipgen documents the state’s brutal role in this conflict—how security forces and political institutions have either stood by or actively participated in the trauma of Kuki-Zo women.

Dr. Nemthianngai Guite shows how public health infrastructure collapsed, forcing pregnant women to give birth in forests—without food, medicine, or sanitation. Her work reveals the crisis not just as ethnic, but humanitarian.

Thanggoulen Haokip interrogates customary law and its patriarchal underpinnings—challenging the internal structures within Kuki society that have long silenced women and resisted statutory protections.

Zalen Numei highlights the various forms of violence committed against women in recent times, leading to the movement for an equitable society—where resistance from the patriarchal setup is sharply experienced.

Pipy Chongloi shares her experience of founding an NGO that provides mental health support to victims in the Churachandpur relief camps. Her work challenges the hold of hegemonic masculinity—a norm that discourages emotional vulnerability in men—by creating safe spaces where male victims are encouraged to express their grief and trauma.

Together, these authors do more than inform—they demand accountability.

Their essays show that gender-based violence is not a by-product of war; it is part of the strategy—whether through mass displacement, rape, denial of healthcare, or cultural erasure. These are acts of calculated dehumanisation.

The heart of this book lies in its documentation of seventy-three pregnant women who survived unthinkable circumstances—and in the remembrance of those who did not. Some were raped and murdered. Some were burned or shot. Others were paraded naked, their bodies turned into battlegrounds. These women were not just collateral damage; they were targeted. And they deserve justice.

We have also compiled, with the help of volunteers and families, lists of childbirths in camps, of women who died, and of those still in urgent need of medical care. These records are not just footnotes—they are testimonies. They are proof. And in a time when denial and distortion run rampant, they are necessary.

This book is not exhaustive. Many voices remain unheard. Many names are still unknown. But this is a beginning—a refusal to let these stories die in silence.

But this book doesn’t stop at the state. It also challenges us—within the Kuki community. For too long, customary practices and traditional leadership have sidelined women’s voices. Silent Scars is a call for introspection—a challenge to our own patriarchal norms, a demand for Kuki-Zo women to be heard, protected, and empowered—not just in times of crisis, but always.

This volume is also a legal and political intervention. It pushes for statutory protections, legal recognition of gender-based crimes, and policy reforms rooted in lived realities—not theoretical frameworks.

And above all, Silent Scars is a refusal to forget. Every name—of every woman raped, burned, denied childbirth assistance, or still waiting for justice—is not a number. It is a life. A life silenced not only by gunfire, but by the indifference of institutions, the silence of society, and the fear of shame.

In a nation that claims to uphold democracy and protect its most vulnerable, this book is an indictment. But it is also a cry for change—for the Indian state to act with urgency and fairness, for civil society to speak truth to power.

And for the Kuki-Zo community—to break internal silences and centre women’s voices in our own recovery. Because silence is not peace. Forgetting is not healing.

Silent Scars is not just a book. It is a demand for justice.