On August 13, around 6 pm, two friends and I booked an Uber cab to Humayunpur from Civil Lines. This was an evening outing after completing some research tasks at our institution—an opportunity to relax and unwind, free from stress and tension.
The cab driver was relatively mature, probably in his mid-to-late thirties or early forties. He was wearing a powder-blue shirt and appeared healthy, deeply interested in engaging in conversation. When we got into the car, I asked him if we could use Bluetooth to play music. He readily agreed, and we listened to classic Hindi film songs from the 1960s–1970s.
I sat in the front seat, lip-synching to the music, while my two friends in the back chatted with each other, occasionally drawing me into their conversation. The driver initiated a discussion with me.
A man with a keen interest in cinema spoke about film songs, shifts in the film industry, and his fascination with South Indian cinema. Our shared interest in films connected us. Everything was going well—until he asked, “Aap kahan se ho?” This was a classic first-meeting question, and I answered without hesitation: “I’m from Nagaland.”
He responded with skepticism, shock, and fear, saying, “Aap toh danger jaga se ho.”
His reaction caught me completely off guard. In that moment, I felt an overwhelming rush of emotions—shock, irritation, bewilderment, disgust, anger—almost every emotion a person might naturally experience when confronted with such a statement.
When I pressed him to explain why Nagaland was “dangerous,” he claimed it was a place of violence where “people beat up each other,” etc. But the most shocking part came next: he said that Nagas eat humans. My friends and I were equally stunned. He stated it with complete ease and confidence, right to my face, accusing us of being cannibals.
Racial discrimination is nothing new to us. By now, many of us from the Northeast are generally drained of trying to resist the ignorance and prejudice of misinformed Indians who never miss an opportunity to abuse us racially.
Yet this was the first time I had encountered someone accusing my community of cannibalism. I was fuming, but I held myself back. I knew that a few minutes of heated argument would not change the mind of someone so deeply entrenched in narrow-mindedness.
We tried to counter his perception, telling him that Nagaland is far safer than Delhi, his city, where news of rape cases, murders, and other crimes appears almost daily. But he remained persistent, insisting that Nagaland is dangerous.
In defense of Delhi, he argued that crimes here are committed by “outsiders,” not native Delhi residents. It was an escapist argument, designed to absolve his city of responsibility. The atmosphere inside the cab was already tense.
He then said that his information came from friends and acquaintances who had lived in the Northeast, including Nagaland. I suggested that he change the topic before he got himself into controversy.
A Common Experience for Northeast People
Afterward, I told my friends that this encounter is an everyday reality for people from the Northeast. The difference this time was that they had seen and heard it themselves. Often, when we face such prejudice alone, others deny our experience or dismiss it outright.
One NE friend recently shared her story: an auto driver had agreed on a fare but demanded more upon reaching the destination.
When she refused, he caused a scene, shouting to bystanders, “Yeh log aise hi hain,” painting her as dishonest. Since no one had witnessed their original fare agreement, others easily believed him.
In such situations, non-NE people almost always side with their own, even when wrong. We are left helpless, watching false narratives spread about us.
That is why racial discrimination is not new to us, but the recent encounter with its bizarre and hurtful imagination of Nagas as cannibals is alarming.
I was reminded of the promotional video for Pataal Lok 2, in which the leading protagonist is constantly warned not to go to Nagaland. The reasons given included violence, beatings, and the possibility of never returning alive.
Stereotypes about the Northeast are created, circulated, and reinforced across cinema, media, and politics. They manifest in abuse, racial discrimination, and casual remarks in cities across India.
The racial prejudice that many Indians now face abroad is something people from the Northeast have endured for a long time within their own country.
These discriminations—whether in physical acts or rhetorical abuse— reflect a larger structural and politicisation of food culture in particular.
They threaten the very existence of diverse communities, both nationally and globally. The suspicion and circulation of false knowledge make people remain misinformed, uninformed, or trapped in beliefs that place themselves as the only “true” citizens, while others are seen with doubt, accused, and abused.
Nagas in the urban spaces continue to be positioned against the mainstream prejudice—one that incurs racism and misrepresentation, feeding into false stereotypes and toxic, harmful narratives.
From the sweeping generalization that Nagas eat everything that crawls on earth to the extreme claim that they even consume human flesh lies a larger reflection of how many Indians remain unwilling to accept that Nagas are very much a part of them.
Shaming a community for its food habits is wrong in itself, but to go further and accuse them of cannibalism is not only blasphemous but also a threat to the national consciousness of a country that thrives on its diversity.
Views expressed are personal. The author is a Film & Media Scholar at Sarai, Centre for the Study of Developing Studies (CSDS), New Delhi, India.
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