Rita Mukand

In the late 1980s and 1990s, Meghalaya was gripped by insurgency. Violence escalated, people were gunned down, streets emptied by 5 p.m., and everyday life was paralyzed. Amidst this turmoil, Patricia Mukhim found herself drawn deeper into the fight against terrorism, determined to speak out even when fear silenced many.

International Day Of Peace

A Padma Shri Awardee, Patricia is an activist, writer, journalist, and editor of The Shillong Times.

On International Day of Peace, she spoke with Awaz-the Voice about her journey as a concerned citizens who was keen to see that armed insurgency does not continue to ravage society in Maghalaya, her home state.

While she, as a young girl, loved reading her novels and just enjoying a happy life, it was difficult to ignore the chilling atmosphere in which they were growing up. She describes the morbid era of insurgency from the 1970s to the 1990s, where a thick darkness would fall at 5 p.m., shopkeepers would hurriedly roll down shutters, and people would vanish, leaving the area looking like a ghost town.

Patricia and around 25 others would walk down streets, pleading with the shopkeepers to open their shops to create a secure climate.However, they would argue, saying, "Why should we keep our shops open when there is no one to buy our products?

Patricia Mukhim speaking at a function

The worst years were 1987, 1973, and 1979, with mass killings and disappearances, with bodies never found. Militants targeted civilians and police. Schools remained shut. Fear was a tool of control to extort money.

In 1996, they formed a group called Shillong We Care, which Patricia Mukhim led as president, to counter the militancy. She says, "We did not want to become another Manipur or Nagaland, where you would have the Armed Forces Special Powers Act in force to curb militancy, so we created awareness on this."

They organized a massive peace march from Don Bosco to Higher Brigade Ground. Children and students joined in, chanting boldly: “We don’t want militancy!”

Patricia credits the late Home Minister Robert Garnett Lyngdoh (who passed away in 2022) as a major ally. Under his leadership, the movement gained momentum.

“During bandhs, the whole state would shut down. We couldn’t even celebrate Independence Day or Republic Day. But we would come out anyway - walk all the way to Polo Ground with the Home Minister just to raise the flag.”

Patrician came from a normal family. After earning a BA Honours in History, Patricia began teaching. Her first salary was ₹270 at Holy Child School. "We lived from hand to mouth," she recalls.

Her stepfather helped the family buy land and build a home before passing away from cancer in 1966. That house became their haven; renting out part of it helped them.

She says, "At another school, I was offered a government-paid salary, which was very good for me. That school recruited me to get into B.Ed., paid my salary during that period, was a teacher for 25 years, after which I stumbled into journalism, and was offered the post of editor.

As a student, I would write letters to the editor with anxiety about how the education system is not doing what it should do. One day, the editor asked me, "Why don’t you write articles instead?"

On her journey as a anit-militancy activists, Patricia says, "We would hold street corner meetings, raise volunteers, and street corner plays. The main themes of our plays were: Violence is no solution to a problem; diminishing returns of militancy as it kills economic enterprise; why copy failed models? Look at Mizoram, they signed a peace deal and have moved on."

However, during the days of their street corner speeches and plays, most people were too scared to come out.

One day, an incident occurred that changed everything. Some militants barged into a television store, analtercation ensued,and the militants killed innocent people. A large meeting was called at Monkey Ground. For the first time, crowds of people arrived, and this was the first time that people really spoke up against militancy.

Home Minister Robert Garnett Lyngdoh devised an unorthodox strategy: he filed FIRs against shops known to be paying extortion money to militants.

“Those in Police Bazaar had to seek bail to avoid arrest - they stopped paying,” Patricia recalls.

Cut off financially, militant outfits weakened. Lyngdoh sent a message: Surrender, and the government would help you reintegrate. This marked the beginning of peace.

She says, "Now, there are a handful who have not surrendered, and are still in talks with the government.  In 2015, we were told by the High Court that we should not conduct Press Releases of these militant outfits, and should not carry news announcing bandhs. From then, we stopped, and people started coming out, and it became quite normal, and now nobody calls for a bandh anymore."

Patriciacontinues, "After that, we also started another organization called People’s Rally Against Corruption, where we fought corruption, focusing on one issue where we have a Meghalaya House in Kolkata in Russell Street.

The government of that time was going to hand over that fine location to a corporate entity called Asian Housing Corporation Limited, for 99 years, which is a virtual sellout.  If we give away that, we are finished. It is a bad deal anyway.

"We protested against that, and 45of us were arrested and put in a police station. I was the only woman, and the boys all helped to make a rough short bed, and I had a shawl, so I covered myself. The next day, a lawyer took up our case, and we walked out free.

"We also started a fight against the online lottery because it was a flawed deal where our state would be losing more money.  We did all this of our own volition without any desire for any favours from the government whatsoever.

“Five of us broke our heads, spending a lot of time trying to create what we called the Meghalaya Economic Development Council, because we thought that with this, the government would have some economic roadmap for the state.” While they lobbied to create the Meghalaya Economic Development Council and the Bill was passed, to her dismay, it was co-opted by political interests.

Her extraordinary life holds its price of pain. Today, Patricia calls her garden her healer, and not a day goes by that she does not talk to her daughter who passed on, where there would be days when she would just close her room, lock herself in, and cry hard for her daughter.

Evergreen, lithe, and petite, at over 70 years, she is a strong advocate of yoga, walks treacherous mountain paths during her drive for environmental protection and cleansing in Meghalaya, and is a vocal advocate for the rights of indigenous communities in Meghalaya, while upholding democratic values.

READ MORE: Maimuna Nargis infuses life into broken pieces of history

She urges, “We have to have the courage to call wrong things out, and we have to build solidarity around issues and speak out in one voice because one or two voices will be targeted. I just feel women should be more active in the politics of the day - the next generation deserves better.”