The construction industry in Nagaland, once a revered domain where skills were handed down through generations, is now grappling with a troubling decline.
For centuries, the region’s construction workers—skilled artisans and resilient labourers—formed the backbone of infrastructure, contributing not only to physical structures but also to the cultural fabric of their communities.
However, as younger generations turn away from manual labour in favour of more modern and stable opportunities, a tradition is beginning to fade. The implications are profound, affecting not only the industry but also the social and cultural identity of communities where construction work was once a source of dignity and pride.
Carrying forward a legacy of hard work and sacrifice: One of the few who remains committed to this field is Neiketoulie Kire, a 46 year old from Kohima village, who has spent years in the construction trade, a skill he learned from his elders. For Kire, construction work is more than just a job—it is a testament to his family’s legacy and a path forged by resilience. Yet, he has witnessed firsthand the shrinking local workforce and the challenges that come with it.
Deeply dedicated to his family, Kire works to support his wife Keneine, who also assists him in the trade, and their four children. With three children in college and the youngest still in school, the burden of educational expenses is heavy. “January and February are especially tough with all the school expenses. Sometimes, it takes months to recover financially and, by then, the next fees are due,” he explains.
Though he manages to find steady work, he notes that local demand for construction workers has decreased, while competition from workers outside the state has increased. He says many young locals feel embarrassed to work in construction after completing their studies, though people from outside the state work consistently without hesitation.
Though he typically earns around Rs 900 to Rs 1,000 a day, there are times when he settles for as little as Rs 500, depending on the season and the availability of work. During lean periods, he even takes advances just to make ends meet. Reflecting on his journey, he recalls learning the trade from his uncles and other community elders. He laments that many new workers today lack the hands-on experience he gained over the years.
Yet, despite his expertise, the seasonal nature of construction work and fluctuating demand mean that he often relies on daily wage jobs instead of consistent contracts. Once a farmer, Kire’s family no longer cultivates paddy due to financial constraints and distance from their land—a tradition he regrets not being able to pass on to his children.
Each morning, Kire begins his day by helping his children prepare for school, dropping the youngest at school before heading to his construction site.
Resilience in the face of adversity: At 48, Kulatsoi Luruo’s life reflects the quiet endurance shared by many construction workers in Nagaland. Originally from Rünguzu village in Phek district, he moved to Kohima 12 years ago to ensure a better education for his daughters.
He admits that staying in the village was easier as he did not have to pay house rent or buy vegetables or food grains. However, he said he was determined to give his children educational opportunities that were unavailable to him.
In Kohima, he works alongside his wife, who contributes to the household income through handloom work. Together, they support their three daughters, ages 16, 13, and 7. Though his health has been affected by a mild stroke, he perseveres, adjusting his work to match his physical limitations. A good month’s earnings amount to Rs 13,000 to Rs 14,000—a modest income stretched by rising expenses and his need for occasional rests because of his health issues.
Luruo sees education as his daughters’ ticket to a better future. “Since all my children are girls, I want them to study for pursuing other jobs,” he says, aware that construction work typically does not attract women. Despite the financial and health challenges he faces, he remains hopeful and committed to the belief that his daughters will one day find careers that offer stability and fulfillment.
Weathering challenges: At 35, Thepfurüda Keditsu is one of the youngest local workers in Kohima’s construction sector. Born and raised in the city, he started working in construction sector after halting his education in Class 9.
Living with his parents, he remains single and deeply committed to supporting his family. Though his siblings have found other means to support livelihood, he continues to navigate the fluctuating demands of short-term and intermittent jobs in the construction industry.
Unlike his elders, he has no formal training. “If we do not work, we go through financial constraints,” he explains, pointing out that jobs can be scarce, especially during the rainy season when construction grinds to a halt. Yet, he hasn’t sought work outside construction, a trade that—despite its challenges—remains his primary source of livelihood. His resilience echoes the perseverance that has long defined Nagaland’s construction workforce.
The stories of Kire, Luruo, and Keditsu are emblematic of a broader shift in Nagaland’s construction industry. The younger generation influenced by modern aspirations often views manual labour as a less desirable career, leaving traditional skills and livelihoods at risk.
This shift not only affects individual families but also erodes a collective heritage that once united communities in pride and purpose. With demand for local workers dwindling and fewer young people willing to enter the field, Nagaland’s construction sector faces an uncertain future.
For these men, construction is more than a profession—it is a way of life, deeply rooted in their identity and sense of purpose. Their stories reveal a legacy of hard work, sacrifice, and devotion that endures even as the pressures of modern life drive many young Nagas to look elsewhere. (This story is part of the KPC -NBOCWWB Media Fellowship 2024)