How Thang Ta Carried a Thousand Years of Manipur Into a Delhi Amphitheatre

On 20 February 2026, the Kiran Nadar Museum of Art presented the third edition of its Legacy Series at Triveni Kala Sangam Amphitheatre in New Delhi, a programme built around the conviction that certain cultural knowledge lives only in bodies, not archives. 

The evening featured practitioners of Thang-Ta, Manipur's ancient martial art of the sword and spear, in demonstrations, lineage recitations and a panel discussion. For many in the audience, it was a first encounter with a tradition that is well over a thousand years old. On the sidelines of the event, Local Samosa spoke to both the performers and organisers to understand what it takes to keep such a form alive, and what is still at risk.

An Art Born of War and Myth

Thang-Ta, meaning, literally, "sword" and "spear", is the combat core of Huyen Lallong, the indigenous martial system of the Meitei people of Manipur. Ancient Puya manuscripts trace its origins to the mythological ancestor Tin Sidaba, whose limbs were said to transform into the very weapons the form employs. 

The historical record is equally striking: the art reached its strategic peak during the reign of King Khangemba (1597–1652 CE), when Meitei warriors deployed Thang-Ta techniques to repel successive Burmese invasions. The form encompasses sword and spear combat, unarmed fighting, Sarit Sarak, and elaborate ritual war dances, and its cultural reach runs deep into Manipuri life. The hand gestures and footwork of classical Manipuri dance are widely attributed to Thang-Ta, and Meitei Sankirtana, entwined with the same movement language, was inscribed on UNESCO's Intangible Cultural Heritage list in 2013.

KNMA's curatorial framing drew on precisely this depth. "The choice to present Thang-Ta in this third edition signifies an expanded understanding of legacy that includes cultural memory, ritual knowledge and rigorous practice sustained across generations," Aditi Jaitly Jadeja, Senior Curator of Performing Arts at KNMA told us. "It exemplifies a 'living tradition' precisely because it has evolved and endured without losing its ethical and ritual core."

Suppressed, Survived, Slowly Revived

The colonial period dealt Thang-Ta a near-fatal blow. Following the Anglo-Manipuri War of 1891,  in which patriots such as Paona Brajabashi fought the British in celebrated last-stand battles, the colonial administration banned all martial arts across Manipur, prohibiting weapon possession and outlawing duels. The tradition retreated into private homes and lineage-based schools, sustained by gurus who passed knowledge through body-to-body transmission. 

Post-independence recovery was slow. A partial reinstatement under Maharaja Churachand came as early as 1934, but it was not until the 1970s that Thang-Ta began appearing at national festivals. Until 1985, the tradition was not shared outside the Meitei community, a protective instinct forged by decades of near-erasure. In 2009, leading exponent Gurumayum Gourakishor Sharma received the Padma Shri. 

Then, in December 2020, came a landmark moment on a very different stage: the Union Sports Ministry approved the inclusion of Thang-Ta in the Khelo India Youth Games 2021, alongside Gatka, Kalaripayattu and Mallakhamba, formal state recognition that the art had competitive and national validity. The Thang-Ta Federation of India confirmed at the time that over 400 athletes from across the country would participate, with the secretary noting that the move would help the form gain recognition "nationally and internationally."

How the Tradition Is Taught Today, and What It Costs

Thang-Ta is now taught in schools across Manipur and Jammu & Kashmir, maintained within a dedicated department at Manipur University of Culture, and features in competitions from district to national level. Training follows a strict and deliberate arc. Students begin with Sajel Kanglon, a conditioning regimen of joint rotations, stance work, balance and coordinated breathing, before progressing to cane sticks called Lichei for safe partner work, and only later advancing to real weapons.

We spoke at length to Ojha Ranjeet Chingtham, director of Kanglei Shaktam Langba Kunglup, a pioneering institution of the martial art based in Imphal. Chingtam first encountered Thang-Ta around 1979–80 and belongs to the HULA Sindamsang tradition, tracing his lineage directly to Paona Brajabashi. Coming to Delhi to demonstrate and speak at the event, and he was candid about what the training demands. "Training usually begins with Sajel Kanglon, the foundational conditioning of Thang-Ta. This includes joint rotations, leg strengthening, balance control, grounding of the stance, and coordinated breathing. The aim is to prepare the body before any weapon is introduced because in Thang-Ta the body itself is considered the first weapon."

On the geography of practice, his tone was cautiously optimistic. "In many areas, these spaces are emerging very frequently, almost 'like mushrooms', which has made it easier for younger generations to encounter and begin learning the art." But on the economics of teaching, he did not soften the reality. "Funding is minimal, and many instructors, including myself, teach voluntarily without payment, continuing primarily out of responsibility toward the tradition rather than financial security." He added that sustained interest among the young remains a challenge. "Among younger generations, sustained interest is limited. A few students are deeply committed, but many participate only briefly because Thang-Ta demands patience, repetition, and long-term discipline, which contrasts with the fast-paced expectations of today."

For KNMA, the act of hosting Thang-Ta was itself a statement about what a museum can and should do. "A practitioner's implements and weapons are inseparable from not only his or her body but the philosophy and discipline that bring them alive," the organisers explained to us. "Presenting a form like Thang-Ta takes the institution's role beyond preservation to one committed to activation and the creation of spaces for encounter and dialogue."

Chingtam, for his part, was clear that the stage does not dilute the form, as long as the intention holds. "Authenticity lies not in recreating violence, but in preserving the internal logic of the form, the stance, timing, breath, and intention behind each movement. It becomes a translation of martial knowledge rather than a theatrical imitation of war."

That, perhaps, is both the ambition and the challenge: to translate without losing. The KNMA Legacy Series, in choosing Thang-Ta for its third edition, bet that the right stage could help a tradition hold on a little longer, not by freezing it in amber, but by placing it in front of people who had not yet had the chance to witness it.