By Imlisanen Jamir
Over the past few months, Nagaland University’s name has begun appearing more often in the local papers — studies on quantum fractals, biodiversity, forest carbon, education. For an institution that usually surfaced only during convocations or protests, this is new.
The reason isn’t some sudden explosion of research. It’s communication. The university started sending out proper press releases — clear, readable summaries of what its departments were doing. Someone finally decided that if the work mattered, people outside campus deserved to know about it.
It might sound minor, but it isn’t. Most universities treat their research like private property — written in a language only colleagues can understand, sealed in journals no one reads. The act of explaining something in plain words, to ordinary readers, isn’t decoration. It’s part of the job.
For students, this new visibility matters most. Many grew up believing real research happened somewhere else. Seeing their own professors and seniors in print turns that idea upside down. It tells them that curiosity doesn’t have a postal code. Thinking happens here too.
It also changes how the public sees education. When research is visible, it’s open to questions: What are they studying? Why does it matter? That kind of attention, small but steady, pushes universities to stay honest. It reminds them that knowledge exists to serve people, not paperwork.
Inside newsrooms, these releases have been a breath of fresh air. Between political pressers and road closures, an honest science story is almost a relief. It doesn’t demand outrage. It just tells you something true about how the world works — from the soil, from the forest, from the lab.
If the university keeps this up, it might end up doing more than improving its reputation. It could shape a culture where research is shared as naturally as it’s done. Not in slogans, but in sentences people can understand.
None of this requires grand plans. It begins with someone writing clearly and someone else deciding it’s worth printing. When that loop closes, a small but real ecosystem of knowledge takes root.
Maybe that’s all this is — a few people at a University deciding to explain what they do, and a few editors willing to listen. But that’s how things begin: not with noise, but with clarity.
A line in a local paper about a new material or a forest study may not sound revolutionary. Yet, for students reading it here, it quietly says: you can do this too. And that, more than anything, is how a place starts to change.
Comments can be sent to imlisanenjamir@gmail.com
