The gruesome killing of three church leaders and the injury of five others on May 13 in Manipur was heartbreaking. It shook the conscience of every right-thinking citizen. The wave of condemnation that followed was overwhelming. From across the country, church organisations, civil society groups, politicians and even underground militant groups issued statements condemning the attack.
The victims were ambushed while travelling along the infamous “Tiger Road”, also known as “German Road”, which connects Kangpokpi and Churachandpur districts. Since the outbreak of the Manipur crisis in May 2023, this road has become one of the primary lifelines for the Kuki and Zomi communities.
It serves as a crucial link between Kuki- and Zomi-inhabited districts while bypassing the Imphal Valley, which has effectively become inaccessible to them.
Tiger Road cuts through scattered villages in Kangpokpi and Noney districts. It is barely motorable, and during the monsoon the condition of the road deteriorates drastically. Originally little more than a jungle track, it evolved into a road out of necessity during the crisis.
As traffic along Tiger Road increased, so did tensions surrounding it. The Zeliangrong community has opposed the use of the road by Kukis, arguing that it passes through their villages without permission.
The Foothills Naga Coordination Committee (FNCC) has blocked the road on several occasions, and protests have repeatedly been organised by Foothill Nagas against Kukis travelling through the area.
At the same time, Meitei organisations have also objected to the now-infamous road. They describe it as an “illegal road”. The Coordinating Committee on Manipur Integrity (COCOMI), which has been spearheading opposition to the Kuki-Zomi groups, even approached the Kolkata bench of the National Green Tribunal seeking a halt to the road’s construction, citing environmental concerns and the absence of proper clearances.
The Manipur government has also reportedly stated that it neither sanctioned such a road nor had formal knowledge of its existence.
Even the names “Tiger Road” and “German Road” have generated controversy among Meiteis and Zeliangrong Nagas, many of whom reject the names on the grounds that they are linked to an insurgent leader.
Yet despite the controversy and risks, Kukis, Zomis and their kindred communities continue to depend on the route because they have few alternatives.
Since the violence erupted in 2023, there have effectively been only two major connecting routes for Kuki and Zomi populations: NH-102B, also known as Guite Road, connecting Mizoram and Churachandpur, and Tiger Road linking Churachandpur to Kangpokpi and onward to Nagaland.
Several village roads have also emerged as alternative routes during the crisis. One such route connects Chandel and Churachandpur. Travelling along this road requires commuters to cross the Manipur River, often by loading vehicles such as Maruti vans and Boleros onto trucks. During the monsoon, when the river swells, vehicles halt at the riverbank and passengers are forced to cross by boat.
Although these roads are considered relatively safer by Kukis and Zomis, they remain fraught with danger. Tensions between Nagas and Kukis have repeatedly disrupted travel, forcing vehicles off the roads and leaving commuters stranded.
These village routes are not used only for visiting relatives or travelling between towns. They have become essential economic lifelines. With Imphal effectively inaccessible, these unsafe and improvised roads have once again highlighted the difficult realities faced by Kukis, Zomis and other tribal hill communities.
More than three days have passed since the killing of the church leaders. Yet there have been no reports of arrests or any official confirmation regarding the identities of the perpetrators. While communities point fingers at one another, civil society organisations across ethnic lines have rushed to distance themselves from the incident through press statements and denials.
Social media, meanwhile, has been flooded with accusations, allegations and speculative analyses about who may have been responsible.
Meitei groups accuse “Kuki militants”. Kukis point towards Naga insurgent groups. Nagas deny involvement. The state government has described the incident as a “terrorist act”.
Yet none of the armed groups — whether Meitei, Naga, Kuki or Zomi — has claimed responsibility. Instead, what makes this incident unusual is that nearly all have publicly issued statements condemning the attack and denying involvement.
The state government, too, has not officially identified any perpetrators.
In Manipur, it has become almost routine to immediately blame “militant groups” after any violent incident. Since the outbreak of the 2023 conflict, “Kuki militants” in particular have frequently been accused whenever violence erupts. Media reports often use words such as “allegedly” or “suspected”, while public discourse quickly settles around assumptions.
One is left wondering: if these armed groups did not exist, who would people in Manipur blame? At the same time, these groups continue to absorb accusations regardless of whether evidence exists.
Whether armed insurgent groups are actually responsible for every incident remains unclear.
In recent years, many of these organisations have repeatedly issued clarifications denying involvement in violent incidents. Yet the culture of assigning blame to armed groups persists. The state government, meanwhile, has increasingly avoided publicly naming ethnic militant organisations.
Three years into the crisis, with every major ethnic community locked into competing narratives, there often appears to be no clearly identifiable culprit in incidents of violence. It may be that the state government or security agencies deliberately avoid naming perpetrators to prevent further escalation.
It may also be that the authorities genuinely lack information, are unable to investigate effectively, or have simply become indifferent amid the scale of violence.
With violence erupting across Manipur almost every other day, the situation has become deeply murky and complicated.
In such circumstances, will the public or the families of victims ever truly know who killed the pastors? Or who killed the two children in Tronglaobi?
Perhaps we may never know.
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