Asem Bhakta
Special Correspondent North East
*By Keisham Yaiphaba
(As part of the DIPR-AMWJU Sri Lanka Exposure Tour)
Recently, I had the opportunity to be part of an external tour to Sri Lanka, jointly organised by the Department of Information and Public Relations (DIPR), Government of Manipur, and the All Manipur Working Journalists’ Union (AMWJU). The experience turned out to be more than just a travel adventure—it was a journey of insight, comparison, and quiet reflection on the future of our own homeland, Manipur.
Upon arrival in Colombo, we immediately set off for Sigiriya for our first night halt. During the journey, I was captivated by Sri Lanka’s cleanliness, well-maintained roads, and the sheer abundance of greenery. The forests looked untouched, the environment seemed nurtured, and the discipline in public spaces was remarkable. I found myself wondering—why can’t we have the same in Manipur?
And then—magic happened.
On the road somewhere between Colombo and Sigiriya, we encountered three wild elephants emerging cautiously from the thick jungle, prompting our bus to stop.
Mr Sanjeewa Ambagahawattage, our tourist guide, who is well aware of elephants’ behaviour and movements, said the wild tuskers appeared to be either searching for water or attempting to cross the road. His words gave a breather to us indeed . Nevertheless, it was a heart-thumping rare sight. One of them—a majestic male with long and gleaming ivory tusks—stood out like a living statue from ancient lore. We were spellbound. In that moment, it felt like the jungle itself had come alive to greet us.
Back home, deforestation, poppy cultivation, and a general lack of environmental awareness have stripped much of our natural beauty. It saddened me deeply. I couldn’t help but feel that this was not just a failure of policy or government machinery, but also a reflection of our collective apathy as a people. We lack civic sense and basic discipline, and these things, though often dismissed as minor, make a major difference.
The next morning, we visited the iconic Sigiriya Lion Rock, an architectural and historical wonder recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Climbing the rock fortress surrounded by forested plains was a surreal experience. The rock murals, ancient steps carved into stone, and panoramic views from the summit showcased how heritage can be preserved and celebrated. It was bustling with foreign tourists, and I realized that Sri Lanka’s tourism model is something Manipur can learn from. If we invest in developing our cultural and natural heritage sites while ensuring proper infrastructure and accessibility, Manipur too can become a thriving destination. The potential is there—it simply needs vision, effort, and a unified approach.
From Sigiriya, we travelled to Kandy, where we explored a traditional tea factory and an Ayurvedic medicine firm. These visits showed how local industries in Sri Lanka are seamlessly linked with tourism, contributing to both cultural preservation and economic development. And then, we stepped into the spiritual heart of the island—Sri Dalada Maligawa, the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic. This temple, a World Heritage Site, highlighted how spiritual heritage can become a pillar of tourism while maintaining its sanctity. Everything there glowed—the gold, the faith, the peace.The relic of Lord Buddha’s tooth, held with such reverence, is not just a religious object—it’s a symbol of unity, governance, and national identity. Why can’t Thangjing or Koubru be the same for us ?
Back in Colombo, we soaked in the city life for two nights. At Independence Square, clean lawns and peaceful joggers set the mood. The Lotus Tower, bold and futuristic, stood as a testament to ambition. And at Wellawatte Beach, as the sun dipped into the Indian Ocean, I watched families laugh, lovers walk hand in hand, and fishermen hum songs to the sea. It was magical—yet simple. The kind of everyday joy that good governance, public participation, and love for the environment can create.
This journey shook me. Sri Lanka isn’t perfect, but it respects what it has—its forests, its stories, its tourists. If they can turn a small island nation into a green haven and a tourist magnet, why not us?
Manipur has mountains that sing, valleys that breathe poetry, and a culture older than many nations. But we need to act—urgently. Reforest our hills. Clean our rivers. Protect sacred sites. Develop tourism with a heart. And most of all, learn discipline—not just from the top, but from within.
The world is looking for new stories, new places. Let’s make sure Manipur is ready—with open arms, clean trails, and hearts full of pride.
Manipur must seriously consider environmental preservation, responsible tourism, and public discipline as foundations of our progress. Let us protect what remains of our natural beauty and work towards a future where the world comes to experience our land—not only for its culture, but also for its care.
