For residents of a hilly terrain like Mizoram, the month of July is not meant for the weak. The skies fight between torrentuous rain and a humid sun, making it the least ideal time of the year to be out on a street protesting. But it was in this thick, uncertain air that over a thousand young people from every corner of Aizawl gathered in front of Vanapa Hall, a building whose halls have hosted exhibitions, book releases, and cultural and political gatherings since it was built in 1983.
On July 22, the grounds outside Vanapa Hall witnessed something new in its forty-three years of standing. This was a protest organised by no organisation at all. Just a handful of concerned young people, with no political party and no NGO behind them. Aizawl has seen its share of protests over the years, against the Citizenship Amendment Bill, against unfair job practices, in solidarity with Manipur. But it had never seen a gathering of youth that moved entirely on its own, without the guiding hand of the city’s apex NGOs. That is the kind of pull Sonam Wangchuk’s name carried, even in this far corner of the country.
Called the “Peaceful Solidarity Protest against the Brutal Regime,” a poster had circulated two days before the gathering, listing three demands- that Sonam Wangchuk be allowed to continue his movement without restriction, that Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan resign, and that a compensation of one crore rupees be paid for the lives lost to the NEET 2026 paper leak.
The crowd meant to spill only around the edges of Vanapa Hall grew so large that the police had to close the road running through it. Young people filled the former AR grounds nearby and stretched all the way to the State Bank of India, close to a kilometre of road held by voices. Slogans carried from one end to the other. The microphone, open to anyone who wanted it, passed through the hands of mothers, school students, and people from every generation, all condemning a broken system and asking, out loud, for it to change.
When I first heard about the protest, I had spent days sharing reel after reel to my Instagram story, feeling helpless that there was nothing more I could do while students in Delhi were out fighting for a system they believed needed to change. Over the past decade I have covered many protests in Aizawl, and apart from one that carried a strong nationalistic charge, turnout on the ground has almost always fallen short of what social media had promised. So I did not expect much. Maybe a hundred people, maybe three hundred.
Still, despite four hours of sleep due to both my children failing ill due to the monsson flu, I was adamant that I should be there, without which I would not fulfill my duty as a journalist.
I set out around 10:30 with my three-year-old daughter. Before we even reached the site, I found teenagers already lining every sidewalk leading up to it. By the time we arrived, more than five hundred people were already there, shouting together against a system they said had broken them.
“Why are our parents not here today? Why are they trying to educate us in a corrupt system, where there is a chance to stand out only for those with money?” a voice called out from the mic, and the crowd answered as one.
The sun sat heavy overhead but everyone around us had come prepared, with umbrellas held up against the heat and a song in their heart. Between the speeches, the whole crowd began to sing together: “Khawvel ram tinah dikna kan tungding zel dawn, ka thinlung ah hian a chiang a ni, kanla hneh ngei dawn a ni.” (We will continue to establish justice across the world. In my heart, I am certain that we will prevail).
Standing there amidst the sea of people, my heart flickered with hope. Here was a generation not afraid to speak its mind. A generation willing to stand up for their rights. A generation that was ready to fight for their future. As I thought about how to open the video story I was filming for EastMojo, only one line came to mind, “From Delhi’s Jantar Mantar to the streets of Aizawl, a thousand miles apart but carrying one spirit and one cause, the youth of Mizoram gathered today at Vanapa Hall in solidarity with the protest at Jantar Mantar, in support of Sonam Wangchuk, and with hope for a change in India’s education system.”
The sun kept beating down, and my daughter kept tugging at my jeans, pleading to go home. I looked down at her and smiled, thinking of the future that these strangers, shouting themselves hoarse in the heat, were quietly building for her.
Also Read | Mizoram Congress protests Delhi action against students
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