A Anato Swu
Satakha Town Zunheboto
As the gates of the Hornbill Festival 2025 swing open in Kisama—our now-iconic “Festival Village”—thousands gather once again to celebrate the beauty, heritage, and cultural pride of the Naga people. The colours are vibrant, the performances electrifying, and the crowds enthusiastic. Yet behind the spectacle lies an uncomfortable question many Nagas quietly whisper every year: What have we truly achieved, and where exactly are our developmental priorities?
For over two decades, Kisama has been the centrepiece of Nagaland’s cultural projection to the world. Year after year, crores of rupees are announced, sanctioned, or re-sanctioned for the expansion, facelift, beautification, and maintenance of this single location. We are not against development—far from it. Every Naga wants to see Kisama flourish. But it is impossible to ignore the glaring imbalance: why must all roads, attention, and funds lead only to Kisama, while other districts wait endlessly for even basic infrastructure?
Today, as predictable as sunrise, our Chief Minister announced yet another “package”—offline or online—for further upgrades in Kisama. Meanwhile, towns, villages, and districts across Nagaland continue to struggle with unreliable roads, poor water supply, collapsing infrastructure, and stalled public projects.
When will the rest of the districts receive their share of the attention?
When will the government look beyond Kisama and recognise that development must be inclusive, equitable, and just?
Nagaland is not Kisama alone. Nagaland is Kiphire, Mon, Peren, Wokha, Phek, Longleng, Tuensang, Zunheboto, Noklak, Dimapur, Chümoukedima, Niuland—and every village tucked into our hills and valleys. Give us a chance too.
It is no secret that the public perception of our political leadership is at an all-time low. People openly speak about leaders who appear to build personal empires rather than institutions. Citizens watch as wealth, properties, and commercial assets multiply—not for the people, but for select individuals and clans.
Many Nagas ask a painful but necessary question:
How much is enough? How many properties, businesses, and financial assets must one accumulate before realising that none of it will be carried to the grave?
Public discourse frequently points to the vast assets held by our top leaders—particularly the Chief Minister—with concerns voiced about:
The leasing and control of the Tourist Lodge, Dimapur, a property that should ideally remain a transparent, state-managed public asset.
Significant holdings in Dimapur, Chümoukedima, Kohima, and properties reportedly extending outside Nagaland.
The concentration of economic influence and political authority in the hands of a few.
These are not accusations but questions raised repeatedly by ordinary citizens, frustrated by the widening gap between leadership privilege and public hardship.
When people see the same families and circles benefiting again and again, their trust erodes. When they see generational wealth being secured while public projects remain abandoned, resentment grows.
A Moral Question, Not Just a Political One
This is not merely about politics or economics.
It is a question of character, morality, and legacy.
What are we taking with us to the grave?
Certainly not our bank accounts, our sprawling estates, or our political powers.
What endures is the legacy we leave behind and the lives we uplift while we are still here.
This question stands not only before politicians but also before social, economic, and religious leaders—many of whom live for themselves, building their own names rather than building our people.
It is high time we remind ourselves that empires built on self-interest eventually collapse, but legacies built on service endure for generations.
Can Such Leadership Truly Lead Nagaland Forward?
As Hornbill Festival 2025 shines brightly in Kisama, we must not ignore the shadows it casts.
The people of Nagaland deserve leaders who lead by example—leaders who:
• Promote balanced development, not selective enrichment
• Choose service over personal gain
• Lift all districts, not just the ones that circle their personal interest
• Demonstrate integrity and transparency
• Invest in the future of the Naga people, not the fortune of their own clans
Because in the end, leadership is not measured by the number of assets one accumulates, but by the number of people whose lives are made better.
Nagaland stands at a crossroads.
We can continue to celebrate cultural festivals while ignoring the deeper issues—or we can use this moment to reflect, question, and demand better.
Hornbill Festival 2025 may have opened with grandeur, but whether it opens a new chapter for Nagaland depends entirely on the courage of our people and the conscience of our leaders.
