On a sultry morning in Imphal, the capital of Manipur, the air inside Ima Keithel is electric. Vendors shout prices over the clatter of handwoven baskets. The pungent aroma of fermented fish mingles with the earthy sweetness of bamboo shoots. It feels like any other market in India — until you notice one thing: the men are missing.

Ima Keithel, or 'Mothers’ Market', is the largest all-women market in the world. Its 5,000 traders aren’t just selling vegetables and textiles. They’re carrying a history of defiance, resilience, and autonomy that has outlived empires, insurgencies, and even earthquakes. This is a living monument to the women who run it.

The stalls are a sea of colours — bright sarongs, fiery red chillies, jade-green betel leaves — but the true story lies with the women themselves. Many are in their sixties, some well into their seventies; their hands calloused from decades of labour. Beyond selling, they organise, they protest, and when necessary, they fight.

Ima Keithel’s origins are murky, buried in Manipuri folklore, but historians trace its roots to the 16th century. Under the forced labour system of Lallup Kaba, Manipuri men were conscripted to fight wars and build infrastructure, leaving the women to shoulder the economy. What began as barter evolved into a sprawling economic hub, with women driving trade in fish, textiles, and handmade crafts.

By the time the British arrived, the women of Ima Keithel were not just merchants — they were power brokers. In 1939, when the colonial government began exporting rice from Manipur during a famine, the women led a revolt. They staged mass protests that forced the British to back down. The event became known as the Second Women’s War, a name that reflects both its intensity and its legacy.

Ima Keithel is a political institution. The “Imas” (mothers) have a long history of standing at the frontlines of resistance. In 2004, after a young Manipuri woman was raped and killed by paramilitary forces, twelve women from Ima Keithel staged one of the most daring protests in Indian history. They marched to Kangla Fort, stripped naked, and held a banner that read: “Indian Army, rape us too.”

The protest was shocking, even in a country accustomed to public outrage. It worked. The paramilitary base was vacated, and the incident became a flashpoint in the fight against the Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA), a draconian law that grants the military sweeping powers in conflict zones.

That spirit of defiance persists. Just last November, the market erupted in protest after the kidnapping and killing of six people in Jiribam. The Imas turned their stalls into rallying points, demanding justice and decrying the re-imposition of AFSPA in parts of the state. 

But this matriarchal institution isn’t invincible. The market, once the economic lifeline of the region, is now grappling with modern challenges. Poor infrastructure, high-interest loans, and political instability threaten the livelihoods of its vendors. Many women operate outside the formal market in makeshift stalls, paying the same taxes as licensed traders without receiving the same protections.

Then there’s the violence. Ethnic tensions between the Meitei majority and tribal Kuki communities have turned Manipur into a powder keg. Over 200 lives have been lost in recent clashes, and thousands have been displaced. Many vendors are left wondering if Ima Keithel, once a symbol of unity, can survive the fractures.

Despite its struggles, Ima Keithel endures. The market generates crores of rupees in revenue annually, with many vendors earning enough to support entire families. But its value can’t be measured in money alone. It’s a home for women who have nowhere else to turn, a place where they can carve out independence. The aisles of Ima Keithel buzz with life — laughter, arguments, and the clinking of coins. It's a cheerful reminder of the fact that the Imas will always be the protectors of Manipur.

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