At 2:02 pm on February 4th, I received a call from the babysitter. My four-month-old was frantically crying, and they were unable to console her. But seated next to me in a ruptured Assam-type house in Tanhril locality was a mother, Caroline Vanlalrovi who, just around 56 days ago, could not be present to console her 26-year-old daughter, Marina Lalchhanchuahi, who was murdered in cold blood, just around 2 kilometres from their house.
Tanhril is a picturesque locality on the outskirts of Aizawl, closer to the state’s lone central university, Mizoram University, than to the bustling heart of the capital. Once a sparsely inhabited area, it has gradually drawn people for its appeal as a quiet and peaceful neighbourhood, while still being only a few minutes away from the city’s busier quarters. Over time, Tanhril has come to be dotted with charming, modern houses painted in soft, cheerful colours. Amidst these stood a lone grey Assam-type house, accompanied by a small adjoining hut stacked with firewood, where Caroline boiled tea for me.
“Our gas cylinder is empty, and we have not been able to refill it,” she said.
Much of the house felt empty, despite being home to seven people. There were no decorations lining the walls, except for ten bouquets of flowers the family had received in condolence at Marina’s funeral. The house contained a single bed, placed inside a partition that separated the living room and kitchen from the bedroom.
“Where did she sleep?” I questioned, referring to Marina.
“Where you are sitting right now, that’s where she slept,” she said, pointing to a wooden bench with a thin, one-inch mattress, so worn that the grain of the wood could be felt through it.
The house also had around four other wooden benches with backrests, each fitted with thin mattresses, which served as beds for other family members.
Eight years ago, on May 28, 2018, Caroline lost her 50-year-old husband, with whom she had six children, Marina being the third. On the day of his death, the cause was recorded simply as an “accident.” He had suffered a fall in the Chawlhhmun locality near the famed Solomon’s Temple, which left him bedridden for eight months before he eventually passed away.
The loss was devastating. Caroline, then just 47 years old, was left to care for six young children on her own.
However, nothing could have prepared her for the news of her eldest daughter’s death, a revelation that shocked the small state of Mizoram and sparked speculation across over a dozen YouTube channels, garnering hundreds of thousands of views.
The tension had begun back in December, when news of Marina’s disappearance and the discovery of her body first emerged. On January 27, when the Mizoram Police released a statement regarding their investigation, it ignited public outrage. People set fire to the ongoing construction of the accused’s house and organized rallies demanding a thorough investigation.
The accused was identified as R.L. Peka, a 61-year-old retired government official, who reportedly committed suicide during the course of the investigation.
“When she went missing, I did not sleep for two weeks, until the day her body was found. We went to spiritual healers in Zemabawk locality who were believed to help locate missing persons. We tried every possible option to find her,” said Caroline.
According to her mother, Marina was a bright and active child. She studied until the sixth grade. While she was neither exceptionally gifted nor slow, Marina had to give up her studies to care for her three younger siblings, as her parents were occupied with tending their agricultural fields, their main source of livelihood.
“She liked stitching clothes for her dolls, but she didn’t have much time for it, as she had to take care of her younger siblings,” Caroline recalled.
At the age of thirteen, Marina began working as a waitress and helping at various canteens in Mizoram University. The sprawling university, spread across 978 acres, has multiple canteens for different departments and administrative units.
“She was hardworking, and as the eldest daughter, she became our main breadwinner, since her two elder brothers and one younger brother struggle with substance abuse issues. There was no work she couldn’t do. If there were electric wires that needed fixing in the house, Marina was the one you called. She could do anything and everything,” Caroline said, a hint of pride glimmering in her eyes.
Before her death, Marina had earned her final salary of Rs. 21,000 on November 26, after working for two months at a construction site in Mizoram University. She brought home Rs. 15,000, while the remaining Rs. 6,000 was handed over to her parents after her death. She had planned to work until December 23 and earn an additional Rs. 10,000, enough to ensure her family was well-fed through Christmas.
When Marina first started working at the university canteens, she earned Rs. 150 a day. Over the years, her daily wage had risen to around Rs. 300.
“There were times in our house when even a hundred-rupee note was scarce. But Marina kept us together. She was the treasurer of the house and very careful with money, quite stingy, even. Her siblings couldn’t just ask her for money,” Caroline said with a laugh.
Marina was the one who bought vegetables and groceries and kept the household running. On December 1, the day they last saw her, she had stepped out to buy rice for the family.
Though Marina could not fulfill her wish of returning to school and completing her higher studies, Caroline had always hoped that she would marry into a family that could care for her as lovingly and diligently as she had cared for her own family.
After her death, the family learned that Marina had been involved with the retired RL Peka and was pregnant. Much of her life, the tireless roles she played at home as the eldest daughter and primary breadwinner, caring for her younger siblings from a young age and later supporting the household while her brothers struggled with substance abuse, as well as her role in the YMA for six years as the locality’s committee member and her time in the church choir for seven years, seemed to fade from public memory.
“We understand that people may have their own opinions without truly knowing her, but to us, she was our guardian and our pillar,” said Caroline. Her youngest daughter who has also left school and is now eighteen, has begun seeking odd jobs. “Education is not for the poor,” Caroline explained, “we neither have the money nor the environment to allow our children to focus on their studies.”
Neither the workers at the construction site nor her own family were aware of her pregnancy, as Marina had continued working until the last week before her death. According to sources, her body was found in a horrific state, with parts scattered as if attacked by a wild animal.
“Every night, I think of how she might have screamed for help,” Caroline whispered, her voice heavy with grief.