Aizawl: In 1993, on a bright, sunny day in the month of March, Nungthanmawii and Siamhnuna welcomed their third child into the world. Born at their home in Zemabawk with the assistance of a midwife, the newborn was christened David Lalmuanpuia by his grandfather, who named him after one of his other grandsons.
“He was a very active child,” recalled his mother, Nungthanmawii. “He was always on the move. He couldn’t sit still, and if there were guests in the house, he often had to be disciplined.” David’s energy extended beyond the home, as he was also an active participant in Sunday school. He attended the RKM school in Zemabawk, which was located some distance from their home. Nungthanmawii mentioned that they would travel by sumo or bus to get to the school, and both she and her husband would eagerly await his return, especially in the evenings, worried for their safe return.
It takes about an hour’s drive from Aizawl, followed by a steep descent down twenty rugged steps, to reach David’s home. After years of moving from one rented house to another, the family had finally managed to put together a place of their own. It wasn’t much—just a humble structure of multicolored, rusted tin sheets and thin wooden planks, a two-room house that sheltered a family of seven. Though modest, it was a symbol of pride for a family that had struggled to make ends meet. “We pooled together whatever earnings we had, and bit by bit, we bought the wood and tin to build this house,” David’s mother explained. On one of the house’s walls, a date is proudly displayed—Dt. 8.2022—written three times to mark the day they first moved in.
Upon entering David’s home, one thing is immediately clear: dogs are cherished here. “David was crazy about dogs,” his mother said with a smile. “He was an animal lover and would spoil our dogs with so much affection. He’d sleep with them on his bed which is the sofa in our living room, and now, they will only sleep on the sofa and nowhere else.”
As Christmas approached, like many others in Aizawl and its surroundings, David eagerly anticipated the festive season—particularly the chance to take photos of the beautiful Christmas light displays around the city. However, instead of enjoying the decorations in 2024, a photo of David from December 2023, capturing him taking pictures of those very lights, went viral on social media on December 20.
On December 18, 2024, it was just another ordinary workday for David and his friend Lalduhsaka, both from Tuirial Airfield. After a long day of work, they decided to unwind together before dinner. The two returned to their respective homes, but at around 8 p.m., there was a knock on the door—members of the Village Defense Party had come calling. Over the next five hours, only one of them would return home alive.
The Village Defense Party (VDP) plays a key role in crime prevention, detection, and maintaining law and order within their communities. They patrol local areas and collaborate with the police to prevent and investigate crimes. The VDP was officially established under the Mizoram Police Act, 2011.
On the night of December 18, 2024, David and his friend Lalduhsaka were summoned by the VDP in connection with an alleged theft at a local pastor’s house in their area. What they had assumed would be a routine interrogation quickly turned into a horrific night. Instead of being questioned, both men found themselves victims of brutal violence at the hands of the VDP. What was supposed to be a simple inquiry ended in a tragic and senseless murder.
“When they came to call him, I quickly asked what the reason was, but the VDP didn’t provide any clear explanation, so we followed them to the VDP office,” said David’s mother, Nungthanmawii.
A similar experience was shared by 63-year-old Parchhuani, Lalduhsaka’s mother. After dinner, the VDP came to take her son, but since he had recently overcome his past struggles with drug use, she wasn’t initially worried and stayed home. “However, as time passed, I couldn’t find peace, as I didn’t know why they had taken him,” she told EastMojo.
The accusation was that the two had stolen Rs. 26,000 from the pastor’s house. As the interrogation went on, the VDP began using plastic pipes to beat them mercilessly. To prevent any escape or outside intervention, they locked the doors of the room.
The mothers of Lalduhsaka and David could hear the screams of their sons from inside the office. They were waiting for them outside the door and could hear the loud questioning and sounds of thrashing. The sounds were loud, as the VDP members used plastic pipes to beat their sons and thrash them in between every question. While they initially denied taking any money, after about an hour of beating, they said they took the money. And still, the VDP kept beating the two young men.
When the door briefly opened, Nungthanmawii saw a small window of opportunity and rushed inside, desperately pleading for mercy. “I begged them, ‘Please forgive us. They’ve admitted to their wrongdoing. Please don’t beat them anymore; they’re already in so much pain,’” she recalled. Inside, David reached out, tugging at his mother’s top, and cried out in desperation, “Nu, please save me.” Nungthanmawii continued to plead, offering to repay the stolen money, but her desperate cries fell on deaf ears.
David fell on the floor holding his mother’s top and she fell on top of him. “He was so afraid that he could not let go and kept crying for help,” she said. But around 6 men came and pulled him and continued trashing him, even David’s mother not spared, she suffered a blow. Then they pushed her out of the office and continued beating him. “The sounds of cry and beating were incessant,” she said.
Under intense interrogation, the two young men gave various conflicting accounts of where they had supposedly hidden the stolen money. At first, they claimed it was buried under a mango tree, then later said it was hidden in a tiffin box. Finally, they said they had given the money to their families. These varying stories were not out of truth, but rather out of sheer desperation, as the pain from the relentless beatings became unbearable.
Neither David nor Lalduhsaka had given any money to their families, but under duress, David claimed he had handed the money to his sister, while Lalduhsaka said he had given it to his mother. When their family members were called in, both young men pleaded with them to somehow provide the money to the VDP. However, when questioned, both David’s sister and Lalduhsaka’s mother stated that if they had received any money, they would have gladly surrendered it to stop the brutal beatings.
It reached a point where David, overwhelmed by pain and fear, soiled himself. His sister had to come inside to clean him up, but despite the humiliation and distress, the VDP continued their assault without pause. The cries and sounds of the thrashing were relentless.
David who had met an accident on February 2024, just ten months back had a rod implanted on his knee and was still limping, he also had stomach ailments.
In their desperation, David’s mother and Lalduhsaka’s mother decided to visit the pastor’s house, where the two young men had been accused of robbing. They begged the pastor for forgiveness and pleaded with him to intervene, asking him to call the VDP and stop the brutal beatings. They promised they would repay the stolen money, even if it meant borrowing from others. However, their pleas fell on deaf ears. The pastor’s response was cold and dismissive: “Siding with your children is not a good solution.”
At around 12:30 a.m., the sounds of torment finally stopped, and Nungthanmawii felt a flicker of hope, believing the beating had ceased. But soon, her hope turned to horror. David’s lifeless body was quickly carried out from the office room and placed in an Eco van. When Nungthanmawii touched him, she realized with a sinking heart that he was no longer alive. His hands were cold and stiff, and despite calling out to him again and again, there was no response. David was declared dead at the hospital in the early hours of December 19, 2024.
As for Lalduhsaka, he had sustained multiple injuries during the brutal interrogation. When EastMojo visited his home, he was still bedridden, taking pain medication and battling a persistent low fever. Lalduhsaka, along with his 63-year-old mother, lived in a small, dilapidated cottage by the side of the highway. The building was once an office for an old waste management site, now abandoned and in disrepair. To patch up the gaps in the windows, Lalduhsaka’s mother, Parchhuani, had filled them with old rice sacks and worn-out cloth. She had nailed pieces of wood over the gaps, but during heavy rain and storms, they were often left to suffer in the wet and cold.
Their home was a single room, divided by a curtain strung from a fraying black wire. On one side were their thin mattresses on the floor, serving as their bedroom, while the other side served as their living area, with a wooden chair, an old table, and a gas stove. However, the gas stove was rarely used, as they could not afford to keep it running. Instead, they cooked with wood in front of their small house, making do with what little they had.
A widower, Parchhuani lives in this small, run-down house with her son, Lalduhsaka, and her 8-year-old granddaughter. The night her son was brutally beaten, he was left covered in bruises, his body black and blue, including his feet, which left him unable to walk. Parchhuani, along with a relative, had to carry him on their shoulders all the way back to their home. With no money for a hospital visit, he stayed at home that night, but the following day, the police took him to the hospital. Despite the doctor’s visit, they had no money to buy the prescribed medication.
On the night of the beating, Parchhuani had pleaded with the VDP, saying, “Please, don’t beat him anymore. We don’t have the money to go to the hospital.” She recalled telling them, “I’m not saying my son is a good man. Take him to the police, or put him in a home, but please don’t beat him anymore,” but her pleas were met with cold indifference as they pushed her away.
Parchhuani had four children, but now only three are alive. Her two daughters live in Zokhawthar, also struggling to make ends meet, and her son, Lalduhsaka, who remains her only source of support. Her husband passed away when Lalduhsaka was just three years old, leaving her to raise her children alone.
At 63 years old, Parchhuani is plagued by constant aches and pains. She struggles with sitting down, getting up, and walking long distances. On the night of the incident, they had to stop at least five times on their way home because carrying her son on her shoulders was simply too heavy for her.
The mother and son work as ragpickers, but with her ailments, they barely manage to make ends meet. “What I collect doesn’t amount to much in a day,” she explained. “I scavenge through the trash, collecting whatever I can for about three days before weighing it.” They are paid based on the weight of the trash they collect, and they work from morning till dusk, trying to gather enough to survive.
When EastMojo visited the family five days after the incident, Parchhuani said they still hadn’t been able to afford an X-ray to assess her son’s injuries. With her needing to care for him, she had been unable to work, and the small amount they had received in donations—around Rs. 3,000—had been spent on buying medicine for him.
“To poor people like us, no one holds back,” she said, her voice heavy with sorrow. “I don’t think a son of better fortune would have been treated the way my son was. Even when we asked for forgiveness from the pastor, if we were from a wealthier family, I think he would have forgiven us.”
The city of Aizawl generates around 2,000 tonnes of waste every day, all of which is collected by garbage trucks and transported to the Aizawl Solid Waste Management Centre, located approximately 20 kilometers from the city. The area surrounding the waste management centre is known as Tuirial Airfield, where the majority of the population is engaged in ragpicking—collecting recyclable materials from the trash.
Like many others in their community, David’s family and Lalduhsaka’s family rely on this profession for their livelihood. A research paper published by two scholars from Mizoram University, Lawmsangpuia Ralte and Janet C. Lalhmingpuii, explores the daily struggles of ragpickers in Tuirial Airfield. The study highlights the hazardous conditions they work in—filled with broken glass, sharp blades, and discarded syringes. Beyond the physical dangers, ragpickers also bear the emotional burden of societal stigma, as their work is often undervalued and harshly judged. Yet, despite these overwhelming challenges, they continue their efforts, driven by the need to support their families, all while enduring the weight of negative perceptions and social exclusion.
The study also found that ragpickers in Aizawl face serious health challenges, including respiratory issues and eye problems, many of which go untreated due to financial constraints and a lack of awareness. These untreated health issues not only pose a significant threat to their well-being but also undermine the sustainability and continuity of their community’s survival, leaving them vulnerable to further hardship.
David Lalmuanpuia’s mother, Nungthanmawii, also suffered from persistent pain in her kidneys. She shared with EastMojo, “It has been almost a year since I’ve had this pain, but we don’t have the money for a checkup, so I haven’t been able to see a doctor. My son, David, always told me, ‘Since you have kidney pain, don’t work anymore. I’ll work hard to provide for you.’” Despite occasionally using intoxicants, she said, David always made sure to hand over his earnings to her, eager to support the family. His concern for her well-being was evident—whenever she went to the dumping grounds to ragpick, her kidney pain would worsen, and he would worry about her health.
“He always missed me,” Ngunthanmawii recalled. “Anytime I wasn’t at home, he would call me endlessly, asking where I was and calling out for me.” David had attended school until the eighth grade, but struggling to keep up, he dropped out and began taking on odd jobs to help provide for the family.
In front of their house, a small shoe rack stands, most of the shoes belonging to David. Nungthanmawii pointed to a pair of green and black sandals, saying they were the ones he had washed after work on his last day. Her voice quivered as she spoke of these small, poignant details, reminders of her son’s daily routine, now forever etched in her memory.
Like Lalduhsaka’s mother, Nungthanmawii believes that if her family had been from a higher social class, her son’s life would have been spared. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” she said, her voice heavy with sorrow. “When the sons of well-to-do families are caught for the same things they accuse my son of, they are let off easily. They’re not treated the way we are treated.”
For the past four days, Nungthanmawii has neither slept, eaten, nor bathed. “My mind is in shambles,” she said, her voice cracking. “Every time I try to eat, I hear his voice in my head, crying for help saying, Nu min chhan rawh(Mom, save me).”
On December 22, 2024, the Bawngkawn police station arrested two men in connection with the case: Airfield VDP Secretary KT Zonunsanga (31) and VDP member R Lalhmangaihzuala (56). The investigation is still ongoing.
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