As I write this, the Supreme Court has issued a notice to the Centre and the Ladakh Union Territory in response to a petition filed by Sonam Wangchuk’s wife, Gitanjali J. Angmo, challenging his detention under the National Security Act (NSA).
The apex court has declined to issue an interim order compelling authorities to immediately share the grounds for his arrest but has questioned why those grounds should be withheld from Angmo.
The matter will be heard again on 14 October.
These are the latest, cold, bare facts about the case. But I am not here to talk about the case.
I am writing this because, through you, I wish to send a message to a person — a brother, a community leader — whom I have respected, admired, and followed for years.
And because we live in times where, no matter how obedient you are, all it takes is one act of defiance for everything to be overturned.
Yes, I am talking about Sonam Wangchuk.
Do you have a decently sized ground or an open space around you? If not, try this in your room. Walk in a circular motion, and sooner or later, you’ll arrive where you started. Dissent against the present government is exactly that — walking in circles. It reminds me of the famous poem “First They Came” by German Lutheran pastor Martin Niemöller.
When the current government came to power in 2014, a few things became very clear: this government does not like dissent. Sure, it speaks of democracy, but it prefers blind obedience over measured criticism.
In its first term, the NDA government labelled anti-government voices as Naxalites, Pakistan agents, Communists — words it used like insults. We accepted it and moved on. The opposition was vilified too, even though as MPs and MLAs, they too had received their mandate from the same people of this country.
But they were ‘Pakistan agents’ too.
Then came the educational institutions. The NDA’s narrative convinced many that students pursuing PhDs in central universities were the biggest threat to the nation — never mind that these were the same universities their own government had ranked among India’s best.
Of course, the labels disappeared the moment any of those people joined the BJP.
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Now, in the 11th year of this government, it has gone full circle — criticising everyone so much that even its own supporters are now being branded as ‘Pakistan agents’.
My brother Wangchuk is many things, but a renegade or anti-establishment bandit he is not. He has been the model citizen: speaking fluent Hindi, working for and with youth, fighting for the environment, criticising China — you name it, and Wangchuk has done it. Not to mention, the countless national and global awards he has received.
Yet all it took was one act of defiance, one protest — and today, believe it or not, my brother Wangchuk has been booked under the same Act we use against terrorists and terror sympathisers: the National Security Act.
A democracy without dissent is not a democracy. It is a dictatorship wearing a cheap lipstick of ‘approval’. When everyone is branded an enemy, there is no one left to be a friend.
Ladakh’s issues are best explained by those who live there. So, take time and listen to them. Do not listen to people in suits cosplaying as anchors on television. And do not listen to me either about what is happening in Ladakh.
But listen to me when I say this: our hills, mountains, and forests are not at breaking points — that time has long passed. We are now in recovery mode. I come from a state where natural disasters are so common that they often do not even make it to local news. From Ladakh to Arunachal, now more than ever, we need to empower locals to make decisions that affect, change, or destroy their lives.
The idea that Delhi will issue orders and locals will simply obey is not only far-fetched, it is impossible in a country where people know the power of democracy.
People are slowly realising that tall claims of ‘development’ are just that — claims — and that such development is not welcome if it reduces citizens to mere cheerleaders.
My brother Wangchuk is not an enemy. He is not a threat. He is the voice of his people. Without him, Ladakh is voiceless — and no region of this country, no matter how small or remote, should be voiceless.
And who knows this better than the Northeast?
Manipur burnt for two years before the Prime Minister thought it was worth visiting. Hundreds die in landslides every year, but no one bothers to take stock. Thirteen innocent men were shot in Nagaland for simply being poor miners, and no justice was ever served. Bills passed in state assemblies remain unapproved by the Centre — the Meghalaya ILP Bill has been in limbo for six years.
Believe me, what Ladakh is facing now is what the Northeast has endured for decades.
When voices are muzzled, democracy dies a slow, painful death. And when democracy dies, we fail as a nation.
When I was in college in Bangalore, I heard a Spanish poem that sounded revolutionary. Don’t worry, I won’t recite the whole thing. The only line I’ll quote is: “El pueblo unido, jamás será vencido” — “The people united will never be defeated.”
And when people’s unity threatens the government, I know whose side I will take — as a journalist, and as a citizen.
Sonam Wangchuk is not defeated. His people remain united. And the fact that this festive season — when we celebrate the victory of truth over evil — Wangchuk sits in jail makes all festivities around me feel painfully hollow.
Also read | Northeast’s biggest crisis is right before us, but we prefer to act blind