September To Remember

September 6 carries a painful dual significance in Naga political history. It marks the Matikhrü massacre of September 6, 1960, remembered as ‘Pochury Black Day’, and the 1964 Naga ceasefire, which came into effect on September 6, 1964. One represents the human cost of conflict; the other, a rare opportunity to end it through dialogue. Together, they embody a journey of suffering, resistance, hope and a peace process that ultimately failed. Both events were rooted in the political movement that gathered momentum with the Naga Plebiscite of May 16, 1951, organised by the Naga National Council (NNC). For the NNC, the plebiscite became a landmark expression of Naga political aspirations. Nine years later, Matikhrü became one of the darkest episodes of the conflict. It followed the shooting down of an Indian Air Force Dakota DC-3 attempting to drop relief supplies to the besieged Assam Rifles post at Thuda, which had come under attack on August 14, 1960. The incident was followed by intensified Army operations in the Pochury area, with accounts of village burnings, arrests and torture. The Nagaland Post was the first to publish recollections of some of these largely forgotten events. According to its account, six villagers at Phor were tortured to death on September 1 and two villagers from Moke were beaten to death on September 2. On September 6, nine Pochury men, including village chief Thah, were killed at Matikhrü by personnel of the 16 Punjab Regiment. Matikhrü was not an isolated tragedy. Similar episodes were reported across the erstwhile Naga Hills-Tuensang Area (NHTA) before Nagaland became a state in 1963. The escalating conflict also formed the backdrop to the enactment of the Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act, 1958, first applied in the Naga areas and retained there thereafter. Yet September 6, 1964 brought a different message: hope. The first major ceasefire between the Government of India and the NNC/FGN came into effect, following persistent efforts by the Church to create an opening for peace. After years of armed confrontation, the parties entered negotiations. The NNC/FGN held nine rounds of official talks with New Delhi between September 1964 and May 1965, followed by six rounds at the Prime Ministerial level between 1966 and 1967. At the heart of the failure was a fundamental disagreement over the political question. The Naga side regarded the negotiations as a dialogue between two political entities and wanted them to address the political basis of the Naga nation. New Delhi did not recognise the FGN as a sovereign government and sought a settlement within India’s constitutional framework. The lesson remains stark- that, a ceasefire can stop the shooting, but it cannot resolve the conflict that produced the shooting. Peace negotiations succeed not when one side defeats the other, but when both can find a political formula that protects their essential interests and dignity. That history remains relevant. Matikhrü cannot simply be consigned to 1960. The circumstances of the killings, the question of responsibility and why no meaningful accountability followed deserve renewed historical and, where legally possible, judicial examination. Reopening the Matikhrü episode cannot undo the past. But truth, acknowledgement, accountability where possible and reparative measures for victims’ families could begin healing a wound carried across generations. The connection between Matikhrü and the 1964 ceasefire is profound. One represents unresolved injustice; the other, unresolved ideological resolution. Their enduring message is simple- a ceasefire may silence the guns, but only truth, accountability and the courage to confront difficult political questions can prevent the wounds of conflict from becoming the inheritance of another generation.