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The Assam Rifles regiment is notorious in Manipur for their excesses, most commonly the rape of women, extortion, violence. None of them wear name-tags. All of them caress their AK 47s the way other men caress their genitals - in public, in full view and quite lovingly. I noticed some differences between the commandoes in the town of Imphal and up here in the hills. The men up here at checkpoints like these look bored. The ones down there look tense.
This was taken on our journey up from Ukhrul to the Changta SHIDO, just before we broke down at Kachai. Just in time before I could shoot anymore the Sergeant in charge came up to us and wanted all our details, looked over everything carefully. Anirban has traveled here extensively so he was quite relaxed and knew that most of these guys are from 'India' so lapsed into Hindi easily. The Sergeant was from Rajasthan, another guy from Ghaziabad, someone else from Indore. They were delighted with these Hindi speaking Indians but gave Tuisam the standard cold vacant stare reserved for locals. The North Indians point out one among them saying he is from the South and cant speak Hindi too well; Tamizh theriyuma Anirban says, the only words of Tamil he knows. Illa, Malayalam, the boy replies. Aah, I say. Malayalee, all the way up here in Ukhrul. You're so far away from home, boy. He shrugs.
So what do you do, the Sergeant wants to know.
Photographer, writer, NGO work, micro-finance, women. The answers are non-threatening, we are considered safe. We are from India. For the rest of that trip it was too alienating, embarrassing to be considered an Indian.