06/01/2026
𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞? 𝐀𝐧 𝐀𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐔 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞.
From the Editor’s Desk
Itanagar || 6 January 2025.
As the AAPSU tenure (2022–2025) comes to an end, public discourse has largely revolved around leadership, visibility, and controversy. In this process, an uncomfortable truth emerges—institutions often remember titles, not toil. Those who occupied key positions dominate the narrative, while individuals who worked relentlessly from the margins fade quietly into obscurity.
This editorial is not an attempt to rewrite history, but to restore balance to it. Voice now team has been following the issues he raises.
Among the many faces of AAPSU during this tenure was Mr. Zentle Mosu, who served as game & Sports Secretary (AAPSU, 2022–2025). It was not a big post. It did not command authority. Yet, it demanded courage, endurance, and sacrifice—qualities that rarely find space in official records.
Zentle Mosu did not seek popularity, nor did he guard his reputation. When student issues were ignored and sportspersons were repeatedly denied justice, he chose resistance over comfort. There were moments when authority refused to listen, when doors remained closed, and when protest became the only language left. In those moments, he stood exposed to humiliation, risking his dignity, family peace, and social standing, yet refused to step back. His protest was not symbolic—it was personal, painful, and deeply human.
Such sacrifice is easy to dismiss once the moment passes. But for those who lived through it, the cost remains.
Beyond protest, his work translated into tangible outcomes. One of his most significant contributions was the resolution of an eight-year-long pending Sub-Inspector recruitment under the sports quota. After years of delay, his consistent intervention helped ensure that nine sportspersons were finally appointed, today serving in the police force with honour.
When reports of ragging and bullying surfaced from Sangay Lhaden Sports Academy, Chimpu, in November 2023, he did not wait for committees or circulars. He intervened immediately, monitored the situation personally, and ensured the installation of CCTV cameras to safeguard young students. In a system where silence is often safer, he chose accountability.
Zentle Mosu also pushed for structural reforms—advocating for the appointment of District Sports Officers in every district, demanding qualified hostel wardens and coaches, and calling for increased student representation from each district in sports academies. His insistence on transparency under the Khelo Arunachal Mission led to government assurances that fund utilisation would be made public. He further pressed for the establishment of another sports academy in Arunachal Pradesh, an effort that resulted in official assurance for a new academy in Changlang district.
Yet, despite these contributions, his work remained largely unacknowledged. Overshadowed by titles and eclipsed by louder voices, his service became a footnote rather than a chapter.
This raises a difficult question: When did designation become more important than dedication?
AAPSU, like any institution, is built not only by its leaders but by its silent workers—those who absorb pressure, endure humiliation, and walk away without applause. Zentle Mosu represents many such individuals whose service never trends on social media, but whose impact quietly reshapes lives.
As editors, as citizens, and as members of a society quick to judge and slow to remember, we owe it to ourselves to pause and reflect. Recognition delayed is not recognition denied—if conscience remains alive.
Tenures end. Headlines change.
But sacrifice, once made, does not disappear with time.
