Latest news with #Tangkhul
The Hindu
27-07-2025
- Business
- The Hindu
Women's Business
The Ima Market, located in the centre of Manipur's capital Imphal, is a market entirely run by women. Known as Ima Keithel (Mother's Market) in the Meitei language or as Nupi Keithel (Women's Market), the bustling hub comprises three large buildings with pagoda-style roofs. It is a commercial centre as well as a popular tourist attraction. It was established in the 16th century and hosts 5,000–6,000 women vendors, who sell a variety of products such as vegetables, fruits, textiles, toys, fish, spices, and utensils. Male shopkeepers and vendors are not allowed to set up or run stalls in the market, and the State government has made it a punishable offence. Vendors at the market, dressed in traditional phaneks (long skirts tightly draped around the waist) and innaphis (shoulder drapes very similar to shawls), get ready every morning to welcome shoppers, many of them tourists. The economic backbone of many families, the market has served to empower women at the socio-economic level. Women in Manipur enjoy a unique status in society. Their empowerment is visible through their active participation in the economic realm. External Affairs Minister S. Jaishankar, who visited the market in November 2022, in a post on X, had lauded the market for being 'a great example of Nari Shakti (women's strength) powering economic growth'. Women from diverse faiths and tribes run their own stalls with pride and purpose. 'All of us come together and actively participate when it comes to issues concerning Manipur as a whole. We are not only contributing to the State's economy and supporting our families financially, but we also take part in important social and political matters. This involvement is not limited to just one district — women from all districts and communities, including Muslims and tribal groups, come together. They bring their local products to this market, sell them to us at wholesale rates, and we, in turn, sell those items. It's a wonderful and effective system,' a vendor told ANI last July. 'We want to bring peace. We all want to live together in harmony. Whether it's the Tangkhul, Naga, Kuki, or any other tribe in Manipur, we all wish to come together, work together, and live with love and unity,' said another vendor. (With ANI inputs) Cool-off point: A vendor sells ice cream at the buzzling Ima Market in the heart of Imphal. The market hosts 5,000-6,000 stalls and serves as a generational bridge Money makes money: Women running a money exchange business at the market Bait for buyers: Vendors sell dry fish at the Ima Market. Dry fish is a key part of Manipuri cuisine used in many of beloved dishes. Break time: An elderly woman takes a breather. Women from diverse faiths and tribes run their own stalls with pride and purpose at the market. Letting her hair down: Two vendors take a break from business and relax. Women at the market unwind by sharing stories and anecdotes Tea time: As dusk falls, eateries and snack outlets come to life as they get busy to welcome customers with lip-smacking delicacies. Who's next?: A woman clears the table at her eatery, which serves dishes made with rice.
India Gazette
21-06-2025
- Entertainment
- India Gazette
Manipur: Young designers, models shine at Ukhrul's fashion stage
Ukhrul (Manipur) [India], June 21 (ANI): High in the misty hills of Ukhrul, a quiet fashion revolution is taking center stage as young models prepare for a mega fashion day event during the recently concluded Shirui Lily Festival, a celebration where style meets tradition in the most elegant form. In Manipur and across the Northeast, fashion isn't just an industry, it's a way of life. From daily wear to ceremonial attire, the people here blend heritage and modern aesthetics with effortless grace, redefining what it means to be fashionable in India today. Speaking at the event on Friday, Pooja Elangbam, Director of the Tourism Department, Government of Manipur, said, 'Growing up, we often believed that fashion capitals were places like New York or Mumbai. But today, the Northeast is carving its own space with immense talent and creativity.' One of the festival's main attractions was a traditional weaving textile show curated by emerging designer and digital artist Easternlight Zimik from Kachouphung village. Paying tribute to the rare Shirui Lily, which blooms only atop Shirui Kashong, the show featured three compelling segments: 'Conversation Art' on cultural continuity, 'Muse Game' that transformed traditional attire into everyday fashion, and a final tribute to the artistry of Tangkhul weavers. 'This show is about telling stories through fabric,' said Easternlight. 'We're displaying the skill of our weavers, who carry forward a legacy of intricate designs and sustainable craft.' With each step on the runway, the models didn't just showcase outfits--they represented identity, innovation, and pride. The event offered a platform for local designers and artisans to shine, reaffirming Ukhrul's place in India's evolving fashion landscape. From vivid textiles to bold new expressions, the Shirui Lily Festival mirrored the vibrant spirit of Manipur, where culture, craft, and couture walk hand in hand. (ANI)
New Indian Express
01-06-2025
- Business
- New Indian Express
Beads, battles and Big breakthroughs
MANIPUR: A decade ago, Pamchuiwon Kashak, a 30-year-old woman from Ukhrul, a hill district in Manipur, began designing and crafting traditional Tangkhul Naga tribe jewellery — earrings, necklaces and other accessories using beads and glass stones. What started as a hobby soon transformed into a full-fledged business in 2019. Pamchuiwon's vision was clear: to revive the moribund tradition of Tangkhul jewellery, once popular among both men and women, but now largely confined to festivals and special occasions due to the growing influence of Western culture. Five years after beginning her business from home, Pamchuiwon opened her first retail outlet, Tangkhul_beads, in Ukhrul in 2020. The shop, located in the heart of the Tangkhul community, quickly flourished. Today, her customer base spans beyond Manipur, reaching cities such as Delhi and Mumbai, thanks to her social media presence on YouTube and Instagram, as well as her stall at the annual Shirui Lily Festival. The state-sponsored festival, dedicated to the iconic Shirui Lily flower, has played a crucial role in bringing her work to a broader audience. Pamchuiwon's journey to success has been far from easy. Born as the second of eleven siblings, she grew up in a poor family where daily survival was a struggle. When she was 9-years-old, her father died leaving behind her mother and six children to fend for themselves. As per his dying wish, her mother remarried his younger brother who too was a poor farmer. The family's financial difficulties only increased after the birth of five more children.
Scroll.in
24-05-2025
- Politics
- Scroll.in
Manipur: NSCN-IM objects to Meitei flag on peak held as sacred by Naga group
The National Socialist Council of Nagalim (Isak-Muivah), the largest armed Naga group, on Saturday objected to armed Meitei group Arambai Tenggol allegedly displaying a Meitei flag atop a peak in Manipur held as sacred by the Tangkhul Naga community. The NSCN-IM raised objections to members of the Arambai Tenggol's Cobra Team-Unit 58 holding a seven-coloured Meitei flag on the Shirui peak in the Ukhrul district. The controversy erupted during the five-day Shirui Lily Festival, a cultural event organised by the state tourism department. The Naga armed group said that the Arambai Tenggol had 'courted controversy at the wrong time and wrong place' through the act. It said that the flag 'has no connection with the Tangkhuls whatsoever'. 'All said and done, Arambai Tenggol should tender 'unqualified apology' within 48 hours for their unwarranted intrusion at Shirui peak,' the NSCN-IM said. The Tangkhul Katamnao Saklong, the apex student body of the community, also described the act as a 'grave provocation', and claimed that displaying the flag on the peak was reckless and inflammatory. 'We will not tolerate any attempt to politicise our sacred spaces or challenge the historical and cultural ownership of our land,' the student body said. 'The Tangkhul Naga people have never and will never accept any imposed symbols, flags or slogans that undermine our identity and rights.' The Arambaii Tenggol, however, claimed that an image of its members holding the flag was being unnecessarily politicised. 'The flag symbolises the unity and peaceful co-existence of indigenous clans of Manipur and is a regular feature at expeditions, sporting events and cultural occasions – whether in India or abroad,' it said. The Meitei group said it holds deep respect for the indigenous Tangkhul community and their sacred hills. 'Our intent was never to offend or incite, but only to stand in solidarity with our traditions, just as others do across our diverse state and nation,' it said. The Shirui Lily Festival had courted controversy on May 20 as well, after security personnel allegedly stopped a group of 20 journalists in Imphal East district and directed them to hide the 'Manipur State Transport' sign on the government bus they were travelling in. The group was travelling to cover the festival in Ukhrul.
Business Insider
23-05-2025
- Business Insider
I spent a week traveling without my phone. I ran into surprising challenges, but it was the digital detox I needed.
I spent a week without my phone in the Tangkhul Naga villages of Manipur. Trusting strangers' handwritten maps over Google taught me to embrace uncertainty. I learned to appreciate all my phone provides without taking it for granted or using it too much. As I stood at a Himalayan crossroads clutching a paper map, I could feel my fingers twitching for a phone I'd vowed not to use. I'd traveled from Mumbai to the Tangkhul Naga villages of Manipur and decided to spend a week of my trip not relying on my phone. At first, the absence of notifications felt liberating — until I realized how much I'd outsourced my survival to technology. The first hour of my digital detox felt like stepping into a silent void. There was no Google Maps to decode winding mountain trails, and no translator to navigate conversations in the village's Tangkhul dialect. My heartbeat spiked when a fog rolled in, erasing landmarks. I'd romanticized the idea of "unplugging" — until reality hit. I was lost, alone, and utterly dependent on strangers and a paper map. Soon, though, the locals became my unexpected compass. An older woman brewing tea over a fire gestured for me to sit with her. As steam curled from the clay cup, she traced a route on my map with charcoal-stained fingers: "Follow the red prayer flags, then the goats." Her directions were vague, yet effective. By sunset, I'd traded algorithmic certainty for human intuition and found my guesthouse. Soon, I found myself slowing down and finding other ways to capture memories That night, I journaled by candlelight. And, with no phone to document my travels in photos, I sketched scenes from the day. My first drawing — a mist-cloaked valley — took 40 minutes. Instead of snapping dozens of photos of the valley from slightly different angles in seconds, I was forced to slow down and remember the details. It was a refreshing challenge to rely so much on memory and force myself to focus on one task instead of tapping around on my phone. The sketches also made me realize just how much I'd reduced travel to a series of Instagram snapshots. Now, each drawing captured my memories more profoundly, from the prayer flags flapping in the wind to the sunshine breaking through the clouds. Ironically, my phone-free "Kodak moments" became more immersive than any filtered photo. As the trip went on, I started to feel grateful and guilty for having a digital detox in the first place About halfway through my trip, a teenage girl approached me and asked if I could take her family's photo and put it on Facebook. Her family posed stiffly outside their home, clutching a prized smartphone — one of the few in the village. Their only internet access was a three-hour walk to town. The request gutted me. Here I was, romanticizing my "noble" detox, while they saw social media and connection as a lifeline to opportunity. For them, an online post has the chance to go viral, which might mean getting a scholarship or other meaningful resources. My privilege hit hard: I could afford to romanticize disconnection. I took the photo and promised to tag them later. Still, the guilt lingered: Who exactly was this detox serving? The more time I spent away from my phone, the more I realized how lucky I was to be able to have it as a resource — a way to navigate and to connect with friends around the world. Still, it's easy for a phone to become too much of a crutch and a distraction. Maybe I didn't need to go fully phone-free if I was able to find balance by setting mindful limitations and remembering to have gratitude for all it can offer me. Some of my lessons stuck with me, but it hasn't been perfect When I returned to Mumbai, I tried to take some of my technology-detox habits with me, from going on long hikes without a phone and spending Sundays offline. So far, it's been messy. I've missed emails, gotten lost in my city, and had arguments with friends who think I'm ignoring them on purpose. However, I've also rediscovered the art of waiting and taking in the world around me — staring out train windows, eavesdropping on market banter, and letting my mind wander without a screen to numb the boredom. I still keep one of the hand-drawn maps a local shepherd gave me during my trip above my desk. It's rice paper inked with jagged peaks, rivers like squiggled threads, and an "X" marking his favorite hidden spring. It's objectively useless for navigating Mumbai's chaos, but it reminds me that sometimes, the most unexpected paths — ones that force us to slow down, observe, and engage with the world around us — can best reshape our perspectives the most.
