Covid-19 pandemic

coronavirus

Tibeto-Burman

Facebook

Indian Union

Assam

Northeast Solidarity Group

Bangalore

Guwahati

By Patricia MukhimAt a time when the world is battling a global health crisis, and state leaders are talking about forming a united front to fight the, things in India have taken an unpleasant turn. With US President Donald Trump repeatedly referring to theas a ‘Chinese virus’ (the racist hashtag continues to trend on Twitter) fuelling conspiracies that this was a biological weapon unleashed by China, in India this appears to have become an excuse to attack people from the Northeast. Today anyone withfacial features is being heckled, abused and called, “Corona” or “virus”, and the use of these racial slurs is spreading almost as fast as the infection.Last Sunday, a 25-year-old woman from Manipur was spat paan on when she stepped out to buy groceries with her friend in the Delhi University area. The man, who was riding a scooter, called her “Corona”. In Pune, a young woman, also from Manipur, was teased by men at a mall, who told her “Coronavirus aa gaya!” On March 23, a young woman, who was facing racial abuse and harassment on Twitter, filed an FIR with Delhi Police for being called “Chinki” and told to wash her hands in a sexually graphic illustration. Last month, students living in Punjab’s Chunni Kalan village took toto protest against the racism in a video captioned, “Stop calling us corona, ch***i, Chinese ... North East students of Punjab. #Govt_Of_India #say #No #to #Racism #Students #Northeast #India.”India’s Northeast region is home to several tribes, including the Nagas, Mizos, Garos, Tripuris, Bodos, Kukis and Meiteis, who are largely of Tibeto-Burman descent. Only the Khasis and Jaintias are of Austro-Asiatic lineage. Over the last two decades, several metros have seen a proliferation of students from this area, either pursuing professional courses (because of a paucity of reputed educational institutions in the region) or looking for employment. In Delhi alone, there are some seven lakh people from the Northeast currently working in malls, restaurants, spas and beauty parlours, among others. There are also a large number employed in government posts, and though they’re not the ones that face the brunt of the attacks, they’re usually looked at askance when they step out of their homes and offices. The hostility is an everyday reality.One incident that stands out is of Nido Tania, a 20-year-old student from Arunachal Pradesh, who was lynched in New Delhi’s Lajpat Nagar in 2014, because he protested against people who were taunting him for his hair colour and hairstyle. This incident led to public outrage, after which the Bezbaruah Committee was formed to look into discrimination against people who don’t have the typical Aryan or Dravidian ‘Indian’ look, but possess facial features similar to those of South East Asians.Indeed, the Northeast has always been called the ‘gateway to South East Asia’. The seven states share only a four per cent border with rest of India and are only connected by the 27 km landmass at Siliguri. If that region were to be cut off, the Northeast would be severed from ‘mainland’ India.There’s no denying that the Northeast was a late entrant into the Indian mainstream ­— a term the people there detest because they have always felt a part of the mainstream. Most of the seven states signed the Instrument of Accession to theonly in 1948, when Sardar Vallabhai Patel visited the area and coerced many of the tribal chieftains to accede to India. But groups like the Nagas are still unresolved about their ‘Indian’ identity, having picked up arms time and again against the Indian states since the 1950s. They are also currently in talks with the government about their special status. In fact, the region has had a troubled past with insurgent movements ­­­— in Mizoram in the late ’70s and early ’80s, followed by, Manipur, Tripura and Meghalaya. Today, many of these movements are on the wane and the insurgent leaders are either in peace talks with the government or on in cessation of operations mode. But often, the disenchantment persists.The racial profiling Northeasterners are facing in the wake of Covid-19 is heart-rending. Many living in the metros are starving or worried sick about not being able to pay rent since their employment — mainly in the informal sector — has been hit by the lockdown. To make things worse, they are being socially ostracised and shunned.On a social media group called the ‘’, young people living in, Mumbai and Delhi, are reporting how poorly they are being treated and forced to go back home. Take for instance, Prerna Pradhan from Sikkim, who is working in a private company in Bangalore, where her sisters are also studying. “We are stuck inside our homes because if we step out, people here abuse us. They think we are Chinese. Will our government help us? Many don’t even dare step out of their homes for groceries. Others have been asked to evict their apartments by March 31 and not return,” she writes. From being abused and spat on, to being evicted from their hostels and rented rooms and trolled online, Covid-19 has shown the apathy and cruelty towards people from the Northeast.The sad truth is that the Northeastern states, between them, have no potential for job creation. The IIT inand IIM in Shillong have failed to become major educational hubs because it’s difficult for people from the Northeast to compete with the rest of India. There are not enough medical and engineering colleges so students are forced to leave their hometown to look for lucrative options elsewhere.Someone has rightly said that fear is intensely narcissistic. It drives out all thoughts of others. The fearful person does not see particular individuals, just hateful hues that arouse disgust and anger. This hatred could manifest itself in reverse racism in the Northeast, where the ‘mainland Indian’ is seen as an ‘outsider’ by many tribal societies, and is given a particular label to distinguish him/her from the indigenous tribal. In the past, there have been instances of clashes between these so-called outsiders and locals. Meghalaya has a history of ethnic clashes where Bengali speaking people were targeted and many had to leave their hearths and homes in 1979. This cycle was repeated in 1982, ’87 and ’92. The state slowly returned to normal but the underlying tension is palpable even today. A similar anti-Bengali drive also rocked Assam in the 1980s. Many of those who had to leave Meghalaya under duress carry a deep hurt, which surfaces in their writings and on social media every now and again. This vicious cycle needs to be broken. Now more than ever, when there is the larger fear of Covid-19 looming over all of us — without exception.