+ Follow
image by unsplash.com

The hills of Tripura are really green. They get a lot of rain. When morning comes to Tripura it comes slowly. The air smells like dirt and bamboo. Someone is always making tea in the kitchen. Mothers are calling out to their kids to get up for school. Life in Tripura is very quiet and peaceful.

People in Tripura know each other. They talk to their neighbors and share stories. Everyone knows each other's faces in the streets of Tripura. In houses, like these people have dreams. The people of Tripura want to study and get a good degree. They want to find a job and make their parents happy. The people of Tripura want to make their parents proud of them. For many young people from the Northeast, education represents not just ambition but a way out, dignity, and hope packed into one suitcase. This is how Anjel Chakma left home — not as a symbol or a statistic, but as a son carrying his family's quiet expectations, pursuing an MBA and a better future in another part of the country he believed was just as much his own.

In December 2025 he was in Dehradun living a student life. He went to classes. Did assignments. His room was small. He often ate Maggi at night. Called home. When his family asked how he was he said "Do not worry I am fine."

On December 9 something big happened. He and his younger brother Michael went to the Selaqui market area to buy some things. This day was supposed to be, like any day. They were going to talk to shopkeepers, buy clothes for winter and laugh together. Markets in India are always bustling with noise, lights, honking bikes, and people brushing past each other. Nobody expects tragedy in such routine places. But sometimes, hatred lurks in crowds, waiting for someone who looks “different.”

People who saw what happened said that some men started shouting things about the brothers. These are words that people from Northeast India hear often. Mean words that make them feel like they do not belong. The men were calling them "Chinese" and "Foreigner" and "Outsider". They were saying these things to make the brothers feel bad. Anjel did not yell back at them. Try to fight. He just said one thing to stand up for himself: "I am not Chinese, I am an Indian." This simple truth, painfully obvious, became a challenge to the fragile prejudice of those men. Instead of feeling shame, they chose violence. What started as taunts escalated into a brutal attack. Rods swung. A knife flashed. His brother screamed for help. People froze. Some watched. Some recorded. Too few intervened. In the middle of a crowded market, a young man was beaten as if his life meant nothing.

Anjel was taken to the hospital quickly because he had very bad injuries to his head and spine. His family was very worried for seventeen days. They spent all their time in the hospital, which was like their world. The hospital had walls and plastic chairs and they said a lot of prayers. Every time the doctor called it was like they were waiting to hear something. Machines had to help Anjel breathe. His relatives said prayers to themselves. Anjel's body tried to get better. His injuries were just too bad. On December 26 2025 Anjel died. Just like that, a future that once held plans for presentations, placements, and promotions turned into a death certificate. A 24-year-old MBA student became a headline.

What happened after that was really fast. The police in Uttarakhand caught five people and two of them were very young. The main person they think did it ran away to Nepal. They said they would give ₹1 lakh to anyone who could help them catch him. They made a special team to look into the murder. The National Human Rights Commission sent messages to the government of the state asking if the students from Northeast were safe. The people in charge said a lot of things, made a lot of promises and then everything started to sound like the old routine. They would look into it, write reports, make committees and give updates about the murder and the students, from Northeast and the National Human Rights Commission. But for the family and for thousands of students who saw themselves in Anjel, these steps felt painfully familiar. They had witnessed this pattern before: tragedy first, action later.

People in the Northeast were very sad. This sadness slowly changed to anger. In places like Tripura and Assam people walked with candles at night. Students came together with signs and spoke with voices they wanted justice for Anjel and for everyone else who was ever made fun of for how they look, how they talk, what they eat or what they wear. The North East Students Organisation said what they wanted clearly. They did not want people to just feel sorry for them, they did not want posts on social media, they wanted a strong law that would stop people from being mean to others because of who they are. Because condolences, they argued, are easy. They cost nothing. They appear on timelines for two days and then vanish. Laws, on the other hand, protect lives.

A court case is going on in the Supreme Court of India. This case is about slurs and targeted assaults being treated as hate crimes. The people who filed the case say that the law needs to say what these crimes are. If the law does not do this people will keep saying that these incidents are fights or misunderstandings. The case of Nido Tania is being remembered. Nido Tania was a student who died more than ten years ago in a very similar situation. At that time the country said it would make changes. The Supreme Court of India is now hearing the Public Interest Litigation. The Public Interest Litigation wants the law to recognize slurs and targeted assaults as specific hate crimes. Back then too, people said “never again.” Yet here we are, reliving the same mourning, the same outrage, and the same empty reassurances.

For people who live in the heartland racism in India is often something that people do not talk about. We like to think that racism does not exist in India. We talk about how great it's that we have so many different kinds of people in India. We see this on advertisements for tourism. In our daily lives we often treat people unfairly because of what they look like or where they come from. Somebody makes a joke about a group of people. Somebody else uses a word to describe them. People give them looks that say they do not belong in India. These things might seem like no deal when they happen.. When they keep happening over and over again they can cause big problems. One day these small things can turn into something worse. People can get hurt. Racism in India does not just appear out of nowhere. It starts with biases that people have every day. Anjel's death forces an uncomfortable truth: this was not only the crime of a few men. It was also the failure of a society that normalized mockery and never treated it as dangerous.

Today back in Tripura, the mornings are still the same. The tea boils every day. Kids rush to school. Life just keeps going on.. There is one empty chair in a home. A mother is waiting to hear the sound of footsteps that will never come back. A brother cannot forget what happened that night at the market. The whole region is really tired. People in Tripura are tired of saying they are Indian. They are tired of proving where they belong. They are tired of people saying sorry because it does not change anything. What they want is simpler and stronger: recognition, accountability, and laws that clearly state that racial hatred is a crime, not an opinion.

Because dignity should not depend on geography. Citizenship should not depend on physical appearance. And no young student chasing his dreams should have to die just to remind the country that he belongs. The Northeast is not asking for tears anymore. It is asking for justice written into law, so that the next boy who says, “I am an Indian,” can go home safely at night.

.    .    .

REFERENCES:

Discus