A Kuki Boy, A Meitei Role, A Historic Win: How Gugun Kipgen Became 'Boong'

The first time Gugun Kipgen was offered the lead role in Boong, he tried to walk away.

He was eight, and deeply uncomfortable in a room where adults were speaking Meiteilon, a widely spoken Manipuri language used largely by the Meitei community, a language he did not fully command. Coming from the Kuki community, he was unsure if he could pull it off. The audition had already begun when he turned to his mother and whispered in Hindi that he did not want to do the film. He felt out of place, as though he did not quite belong in that room.

His mother, Kimneichong, remembers the moment vividly. They had travelled far for the audition. “If you don’t want to do it, at least tell the director yourself,” she told him gently. He walked up to Lakshmipriya Devi and announced his decision.

What followed changed the course of his childhood.

Devi did not dismiss him. She spoke to him. She asked him to try one scene. Then another. The conversation stretched. Somewhere in that exchange, the boy who had decided to quit forgot that he had already made up his mind. 

“They spent almost half of the day together,” his mother said. 

More than two years later, that reluctant child became the face of Boong,  a Manipuri-language coming-of-age drama that won the Best Children’s & Family Film at the 79th British Academy Film Awards, becoming the first Indian film to win a BAFTA in that category. 

But Gugun’s story is not simply about an award. It is about what it means to grow up in a state where childhood can be interrupted overnight. It unfolded alongside the violent rupture of his home state. 

Language As A Challenge 

Boong tells the story of Brojendro “Boong” Singh, a spirited and mischievous young Meitei boy portrayed by Kipgen, who is a kuki.  He lives with his mother in Imphal, the capital of Manipur, while his father, who had moved to the border town of Moreh near Myanmar to run a furniture shop, has mysteriously stopped contacting the family.

Unwilling to accept rumours that his father may be dead, Boong sets out on a determined quest to bring him back home as a “gift” for his mother. Joined by his best friend Raju, he embarks on a journey in search of the truth. 

Kipgen, who is now 13 years old, says the biggest struggle was not fear of the camera. It was the dialogue. Meiteilon was not the language spoken at home. As a Kuki child cast in the role of a Meitei boy, he had to master both accent and rhythm. 

“Because of the dialogue, we had to do so many tries,” he says, half-embarrassed, half-proud.

His mother remembers how he would just practice for hours and learn the dialogues. “One of our friends , who is a Meitei, would send him voice notes that would help him with the accent,” she said. 

On set, he remembers things the way children do, in flashes. Early morning drives at six or seven. Night shoots stretching until two or three a.m. And the food. Always the food.

“I loved the food,” he says mischievously. “They would give me anything.”

Acting Was Never The Plan

He was only eight when the offer came. Acting had never been a plan. In fact, he did not want to become an actor.

It was a friend of his mother’s, someone working in costume design, who informed them that the director was searching for a boy. She had seen Gugun before and believed he would be perfect for the role. She arranged the audition.

What he really loved was dancing. At weddings, birthday parties, any public function, he would find a way to climb onto a stage, never shy in front of a crowd. His mother describes him as the child who would always be present when there was music.

He still lights up when talking about performers. “I really like Helamboi Baite,” he says, naming the Kuki singer whose gospel and love songs he listens to often.

He grew up watching Manipuri films with his grandmother, who adored local cinema. And then comes the confession, delivered shyly and with a blush,  a “childhood crush,” as he calls it,  on Soma Laishram, the Meitei actress and singer.

“When she congratulated me on Instagram,” he recalls with visible pride, “I reposted it.”

He also devours Bollywood action films, Singham, Jawaan, Baahubali,  and dreams of meeting Shah Rukh Khan someday. Yet even as acting opportunities knock, he imagines a different future too.

“I want to have my own business,” he says thoughtfully. He is not sure what kind, but the desire is firm. “I am not sure what it would be. But I want to be an entrepreneur..”

Since the release of Boong, offers have come. He declined a monk’s role because he did not want to shave his head. A long web-series contract felt too restrictive. For now, he wants to focus on school.

History is his favourite subject. He likes to read about empires, wars and dynasties with unusual fascination.

“You can ask him about any war,” his mother  says. “He knows everything.

”For a child his age, he is well aware about the ongoing events around the world. He keeps himself updated with the news, especially about his home state. 

Displacement And The Disruption

When violence broke out between the Kuki and Meitei communities in May 2023, more than 200 people were killed, thousands injured and nearly 60,000 displaced across Manipur.

Kipgen’s family was among those displaced.

He was living in Imphal with his mother when the violence erupted on May 3. His father, a Manipur Police officer, was posted in Sapermeina at the time.

People began packing hurriedly. They were told to vacate. What started as confusion quickly became fear.

They first shifted to the Manipur Rifles camp. It was crowded as everybody from the area rushed as soon as they could.

That evening, his mother said, Lakshmipriya Devi also called. She asked about Kipgen— how he was feeling, whether he had food. She was constantly worried about him.

“I told her we don’t even have food to eat,” his mother recalls. They did not have snacks, basic supplies. The director immediately said she would send someone with food, worried about him. But entry into the camp was restricted; nobody was allowed to move within the state.

The following day, on May 5, arrangements were made through contacts. A friend of Devi’s and an Army major helped move them to a better camp. 

From there, they boarded a Nagaland government bus that had come to evacuate students. They did not reveal their real names. 

“We just wrote some random names,” his mother says. “We were scared.”

She instructed Kipgen firmly: do not speak your native language. “Only speak in English,” she told him.

They sat quietly on the bus, trying not to draw attention.

Kipgen remembers the confusion that day. “I kept on asking my mother what was happening,” he said. “I knew riots had occurred but did not understand who was fighting whom. Mum just asked me to be quiet.”

His mother says she tried her best to shield him from the intensity of it. But he was old enough to sense the tension.

“The AC was installed on the night of May 2,” Gugun says with a faint, disbelieving laugh. “We used it for one night. The next day, it became a free gift.”

For over a year, he lived in Sapermeina, which is now a "buffer zone". Schools opened and shut unpredictably. Gunfire in the distance was not unusual. His curiosity about conflict intensified.

“As a mother, I have tried my best to protect him from the impact,” she says. “But he gets to know things from the internet.”

His mother does not worry about him misusing his phone. “He only watches the news,” she says.

Once the internet was restored, he began reading more about what had happened in his own state. The clarity came months later.

“I am lucky to be alive,” he says quietly.

‘My Home State’

In January 2025, the family moved to Delhi for stability. Because of the disruption, he had to repeat Class 7. 

He misses his old school. His friends. His home.

“Delhi is good but not better than Imphal,” he admits honestly. Then, after a pause: “Life will not be the same as before. But we have to accept the fate and keep going.”

For someone so young, the resignation feels heavy.

“We feel like migrating birds with no permanent home,” his mother says.

The film has been screened at various international festivals. Visa complications due to the conflict meant Gugun missed the Toronto premiere. He did attend Melbourne, where he received recognition as a special mention for his performance in Boong.  

At the BAFTA stage, Lakshmipriya Devi used her acceptance speech to speak about Manipur’s displaced children, including the child actors in her film. She prayed for peace to return and for them to regain their innocence and dreams.

Gugun’s mother becomes emotional speaking of her. “Whatever he is, I owe it to her,” she says. “She loves him and cares for him. They speak almost every day.”

The film went on to surpass major international nominees including productions such as Arco and Hollywood releases like Lilo & Stitch and Zootropolis 2 (Zootopia 2).

But what matters more to him is what the film represents.

“Manipur is not looked at like mainland states,” he says thoughtfully. “When tourists come to India, they go to Delhi or other main cities. They don’t go to Manipur. This movie is showing the identity of the northeast.”

His mother agrees. For the first time, she says, a Manipuri film was screened in major national multiplex chains. For a “very small region,” she repeats, it felt historic.

She has watched the movie five times herself and cried rivers when she saw it for the first time. Kipgen himself has watched the movie 15 times, he says. 

The film also brought together people across community lines. Despite the wider ethnic conflict, Gugun remains friends with co-actors from different backgrounds. “In personal terms, we are still good friends,” he says.