Nilasieto Labu Sakhrie
This is the day that the Lord has made. So I give praises and thanks to Him for nothing is impossible for God.
It has been said that Revolutions ‘devour its own children.’ Leaders and followers, ordinary people, all become its victims. Society is torn apart as the Movement rolls along leaving in its path a trail of devastation. The story of our people is one of tragedy, where every family has been affected one way or the other. Pain and sorrow has spared no one.
Today as I stand before you and see the name of my father inscribed on the stone, I feel grateful and happy but also sad as I think of all the children of the Revolution, strewn across the land. At this moment let us remember and honour them in our hearts for the role each one played in the struggle for our rightful place under the sun.
Fifty years ago I was near about two years of age. When my father was no more, my uncles, aunts and grandmother eased the burden of my mother by adopting and taking us in the embrace of their care, love and affection. The seven of us, which included two sisters, were brought up in different places like Shillong, Dimapur and Kohima. Since we were apart, we could not share our grief or happiness like any other family.
And on rare occasions when there were gatherings, we tended to pity each other and tried to be good to one another, fearful of the thought of imminent parting yet again. Though we were getting all the love, care and attention showered on us by our grandmother and uncles, yet we always longed for each other because we sensed each other’s loneliness. We also never came to know how it felt to use the word ‘father’ to personally address our biological father.
I personally admit that there were times when I was overcome by anger and bitterness, resentment and frustrations, all dangerous emotions because they led one to alcoholism and substance abuse – which made things more complicated. But thanks be to God because He was in control. By His grace we came to know about acceptance, love and salvation through the teachings and prayers of our grandmother. Fortunately too, there were people like Niketu who were used by God. Along with his colleagues in the Khonoma Public Commission, they worked unwaveringly to build bridges between individuals and groups. Through them, we found that terms like guilt, forgiveness and reconciliation made sense.
The journey thus begun years back finally brings us to this day. Truly, this is the day that the Lord has made. I therefore, once again, give thanks to God.
There is one more thing that I would like to add. Today, in the name of my grandfather and grandmother, I and my family renew our pledge to honour and respect the declaration we have made to the Public Commission of Khonoma village.
This is a story of Tragedy and also of triumph
May God bless the Naga people
