The final, desperate words of 24-year-old Anjel Chakma—"We are not Chinese… we are Indians"—were a plea for basic recognition and belonging. Uttered just before he was stabbed in Dehradun on December 9, they underscore a tragic failure of the national conscience. Chakma, a promising student from Tripura months away from graduation and a job with a French multinational, succumbed to his injuries on December 26. His death is not an isolated incident but a stark symptom of a persistent, malignant prejudice faced by citizens from India's Northeast.
A Grim Pattern of Violence and 'Othering'
For decades, Indians hailing from the Northeastern states have been subjected to racial profiling, exoticisation, and abuse. This discrimination permeates everyday life—in classrooms, housing markets, public streets, and workplaces, often escalating into physical violence. Chakma's name now joins a grim ledger that includes 20-year-old Nido Taniam from Arunachal Pradesh, who was murdered in Delhi in 2014.
The problem is systemic, fueled by a culture of impunity and majoritarian rhetoric that flattens India's rich diversity. Legal frameworks meant to act as deterrents remain weak. Notably, the recommendations of the Bezbaruah Committee, formed after Taniam's murder, have largely gathered dust, leaving a void where protection should be.
Beyond Courtroom Accountability: The Need for Societal Honesty
In the wake of the killing, Tripura Chief Minister Manik Saha contacted his Uttarakhand counterpart Pushkar Dhami to seek justice. While securing legal accountability is crucial, Chakma's murder demands a far deeper societal reckoning. It calls for honest conversation in the public square about what it truly means to belong in a diverse nation.
Merely paying lip service to pluralism is insufficient. Active fostering of sensitivity and inclusion must begin early—in schools and universities—and be reinforced consistently in workplaces and public discourse. The nation must move beyond seeing such tragedies as distant events and confront its wider complicity in the conditions that enable them.
Confronting a History of Fear and Exclusion
The vulnerability of Northeastern communities in mainland India is not new. A chilling precedent was set in 2012, when a wave of panic triggered by ethnic clashes in Assam and inflammatory rumors led to a mass exodus of people from the Northeast from cities like Bengaluru, Hyderabad, Chennai, and Pune. This incident laid bare the pervasive climate of fear and othering.
The protests that have erupted in Tripura and elsewhere following Chakma's death channel both profound grief and rightful fury. They are a collective demand for change—for a India where identity is not a provocation but a celebrated facet of the whole.
Anjel Chakma's dream was brutally cut short. Honoring his memory requires more than condemning his assailants; it necessitates a committed, national effort to dismantle the prejudices that claimed his life and to build a society where no citizen has to plead, "We are Indians."
