"As he was running away from the commotion, both hands raised in total surrender, a bullet pierced through his young body from the back and his left hand slid down to hold his exit wound, his right hand still raising in the air to show that he never posed any threat"
by ZMW
For an eleven year old boy, he had gone through more hardships in life than most grown men. His father, Mr. Haokhothang Touthang, died when Khaijamang was barely eight, leaving behind a poor family to fend for themselves. His aunty and uncle took them in after his father died. His mother would work on the traditional loom weaving tribal shawls to make ends meet, while his grandmother would chip in by baking changman - the famous sticky rice bread - and selling it at the local market. Khaijamang, the third youngest among six siblings, was their constant companion and errand boy. Quiet, obedient and extremely helpful by nature, he would never refuse to run an errand for them. Though he was still too young to help on the loom or in baking, he would always be nearby to help in whatever little way he could. On most days when his mother and grandmother were preoccupied with work, he would busy himself in carrying water or cooking lunch and dinner for the family.
This innocent boy’s precious life was brutally snatched away from him on the fateful day of September 1, 2015. Killed by a single shot from the back by a bullet fired by the Manipur Police in Lamka, who were supposedly trying to control the tribals protesting against the passage of the three Bills by the Manipur Assembly the previous day.
“It breaks my heart to think of my little boy lying in the morgue, lifeless and never coming home again. The only consolation, if there is any at all, is that he is not alone – the others who had been murdered are with him even in death, and I respect the people’s wish to keep him there until the issue is resolved”, said his mother, Nemneilhing, between sobs, still unable to come to terms with her loss.
Born on March 7, 2004, Khaijamang couldn’t continue with his schooling for quite sometime after his father died. At the time of his death, he was reading in Class – III at the Tuibuong Govt. School. His eldest brother, Thongminlen Touthang (19), presently studies in Class – XII (Arts) at Savio School, Imphal, while his youngest sibling, Vahkimchan is a bubbly girl of barely four years. His elder sister is married while his two brothers, Thanggoulal (13) and Luntinsei (7) are looked after by the Bethel Children Home and both are schooled at the nearby Blue Star Academy.
His closest friend, Seiminlen, is yet to fully understand the implication of Khaijamang’s death. But it is apparent that he misses him, and is trying to make sense of it all. “He is my best friend. We always hang out together, day or night, and we never disagree. He would always stand up for me. I really miss him...” he trails off.
As the bullet ripped through his young body that fateful noon, he slumped to the ground and never got up again. An eyewitness recounted what he saw: "Everything happened so fast. It was all helter skelter as people ran for cover from the firing. But I would never forget what I saw - the boy holding his exit wound with one hand and raising the other in the air. And the next moment, he simply fell."
No one really knew how he ended up at the police station where the standoff took place between the security forces and the protesters. His mother recalled how his curious boy loved to watch public gatherings. Perhaps, this curiosity led him to check out the commotion, only to become one of the eight victims of the police forces’ brutality.
Another eyewitness who rushed the boy to the District Hospital, described the last minutes of the boy's battle for his life: "I was watching from a distance when they started pelting stones and throwing molotov coctail at the police station. Suddenly the gate opened and the firing followed. There were around three or four people right in front of the gate. Two of them immediately fell. Everyone ran for cover. Then I saw the boy. I don't know where he came from but he was running towards New Lamka when he too got hit from the back and fell. I rushed to pick him up and took him to the hospital with the help of some people living nearby. He was bleeding profusely and began to scream in pain. I stood by as the doctors attended to him. While he was given blood transfusion and fitted with oxygen mask, I asked him about his parents, his school and assured him that he was gonna be fine. But I was wrong. He soon drifted away...."
As he lay dying amid the chaos, just moments before he was rushed to the hospital, he feebly whispered ‘I am thirsty’. The last coherent words he’d spoken before he was silenced forever.
ZMW
Source: United Tribals of Manipur | https://goo.gl/nvH0ti
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