It all started with the killing of a boy named Netaji from our neighbourhood by police commandos on 28 February 1996. I was then only 25, daughter of a poor mason. I had three brothers, but lost two of them in separate incidents. And I could feel the pain.

Although I was young, I joined the crowd of women protesters, who were demanding a judicial inquiry into the incident and punitive action against the killer commandos. As the government did not initiate any action, the family of the boy refused to accept his dead body from the police and a standoff between the public and the government followed.

On the third day of the standoff, fellow students of the victim decided to cremate his dead body inside the campus of his school (Johnstone Higher Secondary School, Imphal). Preparations began for a procession alongwith the Meira Paibi women who came in from all directions. The dead body was left unattended in the locality by the police, the previous night.

I left home around 2.30 pm and helped in the preparations. After a while, well armed CRPF (a central paramilitary force) and police arrived at the spot and tried to stop the procession. But the protesters decided to go ahead. The security forces soon started beating up the protesters and fired tear gas to disperse the crowd. As the pressure mounted, the protesters broke up and started running amok. Initially, I did not run thinking that the security personnel will not harm us women protesters. I was proved wrong. As they charged towards us, we ran. But we were chased and beaten up. The last thing I remember before losing consciousness was the blows and kicks which were directed ceaselessly on my person.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself at the Regional Medical College (RMC) Hospital. I was told that I was picked up by Sorokhaibam Kumar, a local brother, who found me unconscious, without proper dress and soaked with mud along a roadside drain.

I could not eat anything for 18 days and I lived on fluids which was administered to me intravenously. I was so depressed that I could neither sleep nor rest. I was also suffering from severe headache, pain while urinating, difficulties in easing, pain on the right belly and back. The right side of my body was also numb.

As I could not find much relief from the treatment at Imphal, I was taken to Down Town Hospital at Gauhati (Assam) in April with the help and assistance of the All Manipur Students' Union. It did not helped much. I have tried and consulted a series of specialists including a Maiba (indigenous health practitioner). The latest being an operation conducted at the RMC Hospital, from which I was discharged on 18 Decenber 1999.

But even today, after nearly four years, my belly still pains and I still face problems in easing and urinating. The numbness on the right side of my body still continues. I manage to eat with my left hand, as I cannot use my right hand. I cannot work at the fly-loom anymore, as I previously used to do to supplement the family income. I have become an invalid and burden to the family. So I sold off the fly-loom to pay the medical bills. Some noble individuals and philanthropic organisations of Manipur and abroad helped me in paying a part of my medical bills. My younger sister Sanathoi had to sacrifice two academic years while nursing me at the local hospital and outside.

I have little to hope for from this life. I am unable to work and can no longer contribute to the family income. My prospects of leading a normal life is over. Despite my father's request to the government, my family has not received assistance of any kind. The Manipur Human Rights Commission would not accept my petition as the incident is more than a year now.

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