Text: Shahwar Hussain
Photographs: Anuj Singh |
|
| |
| |
|
|
|
I had been riding for close to a month through the interiors of Nagaland, during which time I saw so many extraordinary sights and experienced so many unusual situations that I believed nothing could surprise me anymore.
Or so I thought! Until the magician’s invisible hand produced his handkerchief once again. Anuj, my fellow explorer, and I were riding through this particularly lovely stretch of road that had steep rolling hills as far as the eye could see on one side with deep gorges on the other. With our legs dangling over the edge, we were rolling cigarettes when, out of the blue, appeared an old man with intricate tattoos all over his face and chest. He had a rather long muzzleloader in his hand, a mean looking machete on his waist, and a cute toddler on his back. Like a zombie, I offered him a smoke and was repaid with a fist full of some sweet wild berries. Wow! I thought. A real warrior!
If you want to see old warriors with fearsome tattoos on their faces and bodies, you better hurry and visit the district of Mon in Nagaland in North East India, because in a few years time they’ll disappear forever. The invasion of alien culture has resulted in a lot of indigenous culture and tradition being wiped out or corrupted to a very large extent. This, in a way, is inevitable but the Konyak Nagas, the warrior tribe of Nagaland, has managed to hold onto much of their age-old customs and traditions.
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
| |
| |
|
|
 |
The Konyaks are known for their erstwhile headhunting tradition that was practiced sporadically till a few decades back. A man, who could bring the heads of his victims during ‘wars’ with the other tribes, was entitled to have tattoos on his face and chest. The more heads the warrior collected, the higher his esteem in society. Almost all the tattooed warriors are on the wrong side of 50, or are very close to that mark, and since head hunting is a thing of the past, nobody is allowed to have tattoos on their faces anymore.
Some armchair adventurers bombarded us with unsolicited advice on the NE-terrorism and extremism, warning of bullets that fly thick and fast, floods, strikes, and that the region is in the back of beyond. Well, the fact remains that the North East is as safe or as dangerous as any other place in the country. There are remote places all right, but the region suffers overwhelmingly from ignorance. Like our ‘well wishers’ who have never ever been to the North East, it’s all hearsay. |
|
Motorcycling is the best way to see these so-called ‘back of beyond’ places because it allows you the freedom to go to places where a man would normally not take his car. The dirt tracks that trail off the highway lead to very interesting places where you can see unadulterated village life in all its rustic glory. Although remote, the North East offers amazing visuals, cultural diversity and exciting motorcycling opportunities. We rode two 225cc, Hero Honda Karizma motorcycles, which, after a little bit of modifications, performed amazingly well in the tough terrain.
We opened the throttle wide as soon as we got out of Guwahati. The wide highway runs through lush green fields, perfectly manicured tea gardens on hilly stretches and through some protected forest areas. Since it had rained the previous day, the greenery looked all the more amazing. It’s a great feeling to ride side by side on a wide road that runs straight through green fields and gently curls through the mountain.
|
|
|
As we entered the Kaziranga National Park area, we had one eye on the marshland. Elephants, rhinos and deer often feed in these marsh, and as we waited in the watch shed and lazily rolled a smoke, we were rewarded for our patience with the sight of the resident king of Kaziranga, the endangered one horned rhino, as well as a herd of elephants led by a huge tusker that seemed to amble seemingly aimlessly. Kaziranga attracts a huge number of tourists, and over the years a lot of restaurants and guesthouses have sprung up all along the highway where the food and accommodation is very reasonably priced. Many old Assam type bungalows have been converted into guesthouses, and it’s really a pleasure staying in them and eating the local dishes.
Stopping every few kilometers, we managed to reach Sonari (450 kms) by late evening and checked into a small hotel named Seven Sisters Hotel and Bar. The unusually strong sun had exhausted us and we hit the bed immediately, least bothered that our legs hung off the end. Although we didn’t see any of the seven sisters, we found that the food was cheap and very good, and, more importantly, the beer was chilled.
|
|
Mon Town is at a distance of around 60 km’s from Sonari in Assam, and it took us all of four hours to reach there because every few kilometers we would stop to take in the beauty of the land and chat with friendly people in the small settlements along the way. The motorcycles were great attention grabbers wherever we stopped because the locals never saw any motorcycle mounted tourists.
Mon is like any other small town – crowded. So we decided to ride another 35 km’s to the village of Sayeang, and stayed at the Sayeang Tea Estate with Phejin Konyak, who lets out her house for home stays. Since there are few hotels in the town, you can count on home stays in the villages and enjoy the local food. Naga people are a friendly lot and you will definitely find someone who would be willing to take you in even if you don’t know a soul.
Sayeang and the nearby legendary village of Wakching look quite prosperous with concrete structures slowly replacing the traditional thatch houses. But tradition always pulls strongly at ones heart and I have seen owners of many concrete houses maintain a traditional hut, even if it’s a small one, in their courtyard.
After spending a couple of days in Sayeang, we rode 45 km’s south of Mon Town to the village of Langmeng via the legendary villages of Chui and Aboi. 45 km’s is not a great distance but it takes time as the roads are narrow with deadly drops on one side, and your first mistake might very well be your last. It’s said that the Angh (the village chief) of Chui village is the most powerful among all the Anghs in the Konyak society. A few years back, the Angh had 66 human skulls in his huge house, but they’ve now been relocated to some other place. |
|
|
|
 |
It’s customary to pay a visit to the Angh before visiting anybody else in the village and we duly paid our respects to the Angh of Langmeng. He is a young man, and has inherited the Anghship from his father.
He took us to a ‘morung’ or dormitory in the village, and in one corner of the huge structure, in the hollow of a tree, were 55 human skulls…trophies from a battle. The skulls are not allowed to be taken out of the morung, and it was an eerie feeling to shoot them in the dark room and in firelight. I guess the spirits of these dead men did not mind being photographed because nothing untoward happened to us during the rest of the journey.
Most of the villages in Mon had their own collection of skulls but many of them were destroyed because the Church thinks that it is uncivilized and barbaric to display them. But the Angh of Langmen certainly has other ideas, as he wants to preserve and showcase the tribal heritage to the world, and rightly so.
|
|
| |
In the years past, the young boys of a village had to stay in the morung for three years where they learned about life, their responsibilities towards society, the art of warfare and bravery. They were considered
warriors only after they graduated from the morung. Although the tradition is not followed in true earnest these days, there is no denying the fact that the morung holds immense importance in a Konyak society. Anybody who breaks the sanctity of the morung or disobeys its bidding is punished and fined. Each and every morung has a huge log drum which is played only by a designated person and on specific occasions. |
|
| |
(to be continued in the next issue) |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
