While India mourned the 26 tourists killed in Pahalgam, the prolonged and brutal ethnic conflict in Manipur, marked by widespread killings, displacement, and horrific atrocities, receives scant national attention.
BY Navin Upadhyay
April 26, 2025: The serene valley of Pahalgam in Indian-administered Kashmir was shattered on April 22, 2025, by a militant attack that killed 26 tourists, marking the deadliest assault in the region since 2019. The nation erupted in grief, with headlines screaming of “brutal” and “symbolic” violence, Prime Minister Narendra Modi vowing swift justice, and social media flooded with #PahalgamMassacre. Yet, 2,000 miles away in Manipur, a state torn apart by ethnic violence since May 2023, the rape, murder, and arson barely register in India’s collective conscience.
The contrast is stark: while Pahalgam’s tragedy unites the nation in outrage, Manipur’s unending horrors—over 258 killed, 60,000 displaced, and unspeakable atrocities like the rape and burning of a woman and her child—elicit little more than fleeting news bulletins. Why does India bleed for one but turn a blind eye to the other?
Manipur’s Unseen Agony
Manipur’s ethnic conflict between the majority Meitei, who dominate the Imphal Valley, and the Kuki-Zo tribes, primarily in the hills, has spiraled into a near-civil war. The violence, triggered by a 2023 Manipur High Court order recommending Scheduled Tribe status for Meiteis, has claimed lives in brutal cycles of reprisal.
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The atrocities are relentless: 4,786 homes burned, 386 religious structures vandalized, and 8,000 arms and over one lakh bullets looted from police armories. In May 2023, two Kuki women were paraded naked on the streets , a video of which surfaced months later, briefly shocking the nation. Yet, the outrage fizzled. Chief Minister N. Biren Singh resigned in February 2025 amid allegations of inciting violence, and President’s Rule was imposed, but the killings continue.
(Pahalgam Victim’s grieving family)
Pahalgam’s National Spotlight
The Pahalgam attack, by contrast, captured India’s attention with laser focus. The targeting of tourists—civilians on holiday in a picturesque valley—struck at the heart of Kashmir’s fragile narrative of normalcy. Modi condemned it as an “attack on India’s soul,” and the government retaliated by closing border crossings, suspending a water-sharing treaty, and expelling diplomats. The National Investigation Agency (NIA) launched probes, and hashtags like #JusticeForPahalgam trended for days. Media outlets ran 24/7 coverage, with op-eds lamenting the “stain on Kashmir’s beauty.”
The reasons for this attention are clear: Kashmir is a geopolitical flashpoint, claimed by both India and Pakistan, and violence there carries national security implications. Pahalgam’s victims, largely from mainland India, were relatable to urban audiences, their deaths framed as an assault on the nation’s tourism and stability. The attack’s scale—26 killed in a single day—lent it immediacy, unlike Manipur’s slow-burn carnage.
Why Manipur Fades
Manipur’s tragedy, however, is buried under layers of indifference. Geographically and culturally distant, the Northeast is often stereotyped as India’s “frontier,” its ethnic complexities misunderstood. Manipur’s conflict, rooted in local grievances over land, quotas, and identity, lacks the clear “enemy” of Kashmir’s militancy. The Meitei-Kuki clash is messy, with both sides armed and culpable, defying the hero-villain narrative that galvanizes national empathy.
Media coverage reflects this bias. Pahalgam’s attack dominated front pages, while Manipur’s horrors—rape, child murders, charred villages—get cursory mentions.
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The Northeast’s underrepresentation in Delhi’s power circles—Manipur has just two Lok Sabha seats—further mutes its cries.
A Nation’s Selective Heart
The disparity isn’t just about media or politics; it’s about who India sees as its own. Pahalgam’s victims, often from metropolitan are
The contrast between the #PahalgamTerroristAttack and the #GamphalTerroristAttack is stark and alarming.
In Jammu & Kashmir, each bullet fired made headlines, every loss was deeply mourned, and every attack received a robust response. Yet, the recent devastating assault… pic.twitter.com/WVszeoZdxd
— Sumkawn (@Sumkawn) April 25, 2025
as, are mourned as “India’s daughters and sons.” Manipur’s dead—whether Meitei or Kuki—are too often reduced to statistics, their tribal identities distancing them from the national imagination. This selective grief reveals a fractured empathy, where proximity to power, media, or strategic interests dictates whose pain matters.
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Manipur’s wounds are no less grievous than Pahalgam’s. The rape and burning of women, the slaughter of a Meitei infant, and the displacement of thousands are not “local” tragedies—they are India’s. Yet, the nation’s tears flow for one and dry up for the other. Until Manipur’s screams pierce the silence as loudly as Pahalgam’s, India will remain a country that mourns in parts, not as a whole.
