Manipur Relief Camps: Children Born Into Displacement, Growing Up Without a Home

Imphal: Nine-month-old Th Yaisna is growing up in what used to be a chemistry laboratory at a girls' college in Imphal. The room now has clothes hanging overhead, bedding and cooking utensils, with space just enough for her parents to manage their daily lives. A month-old boy named Taibanganba lives in the same relief camp. His parents, who fell in love before the violence and married after being displaced, are now trying to make ends meet by selling candles, incense sticks and baskets.

Not far away, newborn Tomthin Nganba is the fourth child of a couple whose house and shop were burnt during the conflict.

In another camp in Imphal West, two-and-a-half-month-old Nolan lives with his mother in a prefabricated cabin that residents say becomes unbearably hot in summer.

All four were born long after ethnic violence erupted in Manipur in May 2023, forcing their families to flee their homes. Nearly three-and-a-half years later, they remain in relief camps, with little indication of when they might leave.

Their parents can still describe the homes they left behind, the businesses they ran and the lives they led before the conflict. Their children are spending their earliest months in accommodation originally meant to provide temporary shelter.

A senior government official told PTI that nearly 60,000 internally displaced people continue to live in relief camps across Manipur.

At the Akampat relief camp, set up on the premises of Ideal Girls' College, classrooms and other college facilities have been converted into living quarters.

Black plastic sheets divide some of the spaces into compartments. Mattresses are spread on floors, clothes hang from lines strung across rooms, and families have arranged cooking utensils and other belongings wherever they can find space.

Outside, the pathways are uneven and strewn with rubble. Children in school uniforms make their way along the dusty lanes, past autorickshaws and small shops.

The college premises once accommodated around 400 displaced families. That number has come down to about 120 after others were shifted to a relief facility in a housing complex, officials said.

Among those still living here is 29-year-old Th Binashi, Yaisna's mother. Binashi is from Kakching, while her husband, Th Sanathoiba, is from Moreh, a border town that witnessed some of the worst violence during the conflict.

They married two years ago, at the community centre of the relief camp. Their daughter was born nine months ago at the Regional Institute of Medical Sciences in Imphal. Binashi has never visited her husband's home in Moreh.

"I have not even been to my sasural yet," she says, laughing.

Sanathoiba drives an autorickshaw, while Binashi runs a small shop. Their family occupies the former chemistry laboratory. She says bringing up a baby here is difficult, although vaccination camps are organised and residents can also take their children to a primary health centre.

"It is not like home," she says. Another young couple at Akampat, 21-year-old Sapam Victoria and 27-year-old Th Gopal Meitei, became parents just a month ago.

Their son, Taibanganba, was born into the same circumstances that brought his parents to the camp. Gopal is from Moreh and Victoria from Kakching. They met before the violence and married around 15 months ago.

The couple now sell candles, incense sticks and baskets to make a living. Victoria says caring for a newborn in the camp is exhausting, but her son's presence makes the difficulties easier to bear.

"Bachha ka chehra dekh ke thakan dur ho jaata hai (Seeing the baby's face takes away all the exhaustion)," she says.

Gopal, meanwhile, is worried about what lies ahead. With assembly elections due next year, he says he would prefer the conflict to be resolved before the state goes to the polls again.

For Loitongbam Romita, 39, and her husband Laishram John, also 39, the birth of their fourth child Tomthin Nganba has come at a time when the family is still struggling to recover from what it lost in Moreh.

Their three daughters attend private schools - one is in nursery, another in class 2 and the eldest in class 7. Before the violence, the family had a house and a shop in Moreh. Both were burnt, Romita says.

She recalls that the trouble began with an attack on the market, followed by the looting of houses. The family took shelter at an Army camp before being escorted to Imphal.

John, who once ran a business, is now unemployed. Romita says they have not received compensation for the property they lost and depend on government assistance of Rs 3,000 per person per month.

The family had been relatively well-off before the conflict. Romita says they could afford better food and had livestock that helped sustain the household.

She worries that she cannot provide her youngest child with the same nutrition and living conditions that her older children enjoyed.

Despite the financial difficulties, she continues to send her daughters to private schools, saying the government school available to them is in poor condition.

At a relief camp in the Sekmai assembly constituency of Imphal West district, the accommodation is different but the problems are familiar. Yaiphareambi, who was displaced from Leimakhong Chingmang, is raising her two-and-a-half-month-old son Nolan in a small prefabricated cabin.

The cabins become extremely hot during summer, says Moirangthem Rabi, a relative.

He says there are no additional provisions for pregnant women or lactating mothers, who receive the same Rs 100 daily assistance as other residents.

Rabi is also critical of the local BJP MLA, Heikham Dingo Singh. He alleges that the legislator, whose residence is nearby, has visited the camp barely three times since the families were displaced. What began as an emergency arrangement has stretched into nearly three-and-a-half years.

"From here, we can see our neighbourhood, but we cannot dare to go back. Will this ever end," asks Rabi.