Category: People & Traditions

The Forest Keeps the Beat
Chandubi’s lake may be its centrepiece, but listen closer — it’s the forest that keeps the rhythm. When dusk falls over this quiet edge of Assam, the Rabha, Bodo, and Garo communities light their fires, tune their drums, and dance not for an audience — but for the land, the harvest, and the gods.

In Chandubi, dance is not performance. It is permission — to feel, to celebrate, to belong.

Dancing Between Earth and Sky

Local festivals like the Bogai Festival (Rabha) and Domashi (Bodo) are less about grand stages and more about sacred clearings. Young men and women in handwoven attire gather barefoot on earth that has grown their food, faced their floods, and heard their stories.

The Rabha dances often imitate animals, seasons, or everyday life — one step for planting, one sway for rain, and a beat for the sun. Bodo dance includes rhythmic hip movements and slow turns that mirror the circular logic of seasons.
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We don’t practise,” says a local teacher, “we remember. Dance is how we remember who we are.”
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Instruments That Speak Without Words

The forest lends its materials:
- The Kham (drum) made from tree bark and animal hide.
- The Siphung (bamboo flute) whose notes mimic the forest’s breath.
- The Serja (a string instrument) that carries the emotional weight of a thousand monsoons.
These are not polished orchestra tools — they’re forest tools. And their sound isn’t rehearsed — it’s remembered.

Snippets from the Grove
1. The Dance Begins with the Fire:
  At every gathering, a fire is lit first. Dancers move around it slowly, letting the rhythm build like rainfall. The fire is witness, not spotlight.
2. Children Learn by Watching:
  There are no classes. Children sit with elders, copy moves, and inherit rhythm like they inherit soil.
3. Dance to Heal:
  Some women believe a slow dance around the lake during full moon helps ease body pains and childbirth complications — “The lake knows,” they say.
When Trees Dance Too

During Domashi, a local tree known as Dighol Bon is decorated and danced around. It is not cut, never harmed — only honoured. The community believes that even trees have spirit rhythms, and when treated with music and respect, they offer better fruit and shade the next year.

Know Before You Go
- Festival timings: Check local calendars; Rabha and Bodo festivals often follow lunar schedules.
- Stay options: Eco-huts and tribal homestays near the lake — some even include dance demonstrations and drumming sessions.
- Cultural tip: Do not interrupt dancers for photos. Watch quietly, participate only if invited, and thank the drummer after.
In Chandubi, dance is not escape — it is return. Every drumbeat echoes a harvest remembered, a storm survived, a story retold. To witness it is to realise: silence is not the opposite of music. It is its beginning.

Some places speak through language — Chandubi speaks through rhythm.”
July 5, 2025
The Monk Who Walked the Sky
Tucked away in the West Kameng district, Shergaon is a quiet village of apple orchards, gushing brooks, and Buddhist flags fluttering like whispered prayers. But beneath its serene surface lives a current of stories — legends that don’t beg to be believed, but simply ask to be remembered.

Here, the mountains do not echo; they listen. And if you’re quiet enough, you might hear of the monk who once walked the sky.

The Skywalker of Shergaon

Local lore tells of a revered 14th-century monk — a practitioner of high Tantric rituals — who sought refuge in the Sherdukpen valleys. It is said he arrived during a storm and walked across the air between two cliffs to reach the present-day Gonpa, with only a prayer flag and a butter lamp.

The cliff, now called Zeng-Nyi, is considered sacred. Locals still avoid pointing fingers directly at it — a sign of humility before the sacred.
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“He didn’t perform magic,” says Dorjee La, a local farmer. “He just trusted the wind more than the ground.”
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Sacred Landscapes and Spirit Stones
- Shergaon’s topography isn’t just mapped by rivers and ridges — it’s charted through stories.
- Dhomshung: A dense patch of forest where it’s said guardian spirits roam at twilight. No one harvests here. Children are told to whisper while passing.
- Sangtha Rock: A large stone near the monastery, believed to be the seat of a mountain deity. Offerings of rice and butter are still made here during lunar festivals.
- The Three Trees of Reconciliation: Near the old settlement, three pine trees stand together, planted by warring clans after a historic truce. Elders often lead village children there to learn of their ancestry.
Snippets from the Valley
1. Oral Epics by the Hearth:
  Winter evenings are often spent around the fire, where grandparents narrate tales of sky trails, flying monks, and spirits who steal names — unless you feed them rice beer.
2. Thread Rituals:
  During village festivals, red and white threads are tied across doorways and trees. According to legend, this prevents wayward spirits from entering homes.
3. Whispered Greetings:
  In Shergaon, when you pass an old tree or stone cairn, some locals mutter a quick greeting under their breath. “Even rocks remember,” one old woman says.
The Gonpa That Faces Both Ways

Shergaon’s main monastery, unlike many others, is built with dual facades — one facing the village, and one facing the forest. Monks say it honours both worlds: the one we live in, and the one we must never forget. The legend of the skywalking monk is still commemorated with candlelight rituals on the full moon night of the harvest season.

Know Before You Go
- How to reach: Drive from Bomdila or Rupa; Shergaon lies about 18 km off the main road
- Stay: Simple lodges or homestays with Sherdukpen families; try to attend a local prayer ceremony if invited
- Etiquette tips:
- Never climb sacred stones or monuments
- Avoid whistling near forests — considered a call to spirits
- Don’t point at cliffs or shrines with fingers
Shergaon doesn’t need its stories to be proven — it only needs them to be passed on. In the hush of its pines and the kindness of its people, legends linger not to entertain, but to remind. Of reverence. Of roots. Of skywalks that perhaps weren’t impossible — just unrecorded.

Some stories are not told to be believed — they’re told to remind us how to believe.”
July 5, 2025
Fields, Forests and the Quiet Pact
Ziro isn’t cloaked in wilderness — it wears it like second skin. Nestled in Arunachal Pradesh’s Apatani Plateau, Ziro doesn’t separate the forest from the field, the sacred from the everyday. Here, pine-covered ridges, bamboo groves, and paddy fields don’t just exist — they co-exist, held together by an unspoken pact of respect.

For the Apatanis, the forest is not just something to conserve — it is something to converse with.

Agroforestry Before It Was a Trend

Long before climate scientists coined the term “agroforestry,” the Apatanis were already practicing it — integrating wet rice cultivation with fish farming, bordered by carefully preserved bamboo belts and pine patches.

No fences divide utility from reverence. Trees are planted not just for timber, but for festivals. Bamboo is harvested with ceremonies. Even leaves have seasons — and stories.
This interdependence isn’t strategy — it’s memory, ritual, and responsibility.
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“Our field feed us, but it is the forest that watches over us,” says an elderly neighbor of our hosts.
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Talley Valley: Ziro’s Breathing Lung

Just beyond the cultivated valley lies the Talley Valley Wildlife Sanctuary, a high-altitude haven of orchids, clouded leopards, and Mithun trails. It’s one of the few places where temperate, sub-tropical, and alpine vegetation meet — creating a botanical overlap that is rare even in biodiversity-rich Northeast India.

This isn’t a safari park. There are no curated trails. You walk through moss-laced silence, across hanging bridges, and under the gaze of hornbills — who might just decide to lead or ignore you.

Talley Valley

Snippets from the Forest-Valley Life
- Birds as Timekeepers
  Locals note the arrival of the Himalayan Cuckoo as the sign to start sowing. The Great Hornbill’s flight is believed to bring omens — of birth, marriage, or war.
- Tree Carvings in Siiro
  In some pockets, trunks are carved with ancestral markings — small lines and patterns representing clans and stories. The trees, in turn, are never cut.
- Bamboo and Belief
  Certain groves are considered taboo zones — where hunting, cutting, or even loud laughter is forbidden. Children are told these are places “where the spirits rest.”
House Posts That Speak

Apatani homes often have central wooden posts carved with symbolic motifs — some depict animals, others ancestors or forest spirits. These aren’t decorative — they are reminders. One elderly man explained, “We plant a tree knowing it will become a pillar. The pillar then remembers us when we’re gone.”

Know Before You Go
- Best time: March to May (lush forests) and October (after harvest)
- Where to stay: Homestays in Hong, Hari or Hija villages; guided treks into Talley Valley can be arranged locally
- Etiquette tips:
- Don’t litter near groves — many are sacred
- Always ask before photographing house carvings
- Avoid entering forest paths alone — take a local guide
Ziro doesn’t guard its forests — it grows with them. The trees here are not distant beings to be watched. They are woven into homes, customs, songs, and silences. And if you walk gently enough, they might let you in — not as a visitor, but as someone who knows how to listen.

In Ziro, the forest isn’t beyond the fence — it begins with your doorway.”
July 5, 2025
Where the Drum Begins
In Zemithang — the last village before the borders blur into Bhutan and Tibet — dance is not an act of performance. It’s how history breathes. Here, tucked into the folds of the Pangchen Valley, the rhythms of life are measured not by calendars but by chants, cymbals, and slow, circular steps.

This is where tradition moves not on stage, but on packed earth, under prayer flags, beside flickering butter lamps. This is where the drum begins.

The Dance of the Pangchenpa

The Pangchenpa people — who speak a dialect of Tibetan and follow Mahayana Buddhism — have passed down their sacred dances for centuries. The Cham dance, performed during Losar (Tibetan New Year) and other monastery festivals, is not merely ritualistic. It is cosmic theatre.

Masked dancers, embodying wrathful deities and protective spirits, move in choreographed patterns to drive away negative forces and invite prosperity. Each movement is deliberate, timed to traditional Tibetan instruments like the dungchen (long horn), nga (drum), and gyaling (reed flute).
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“We don’t dance to impress,” says a monk from Gorsam Chorten. “We dance to remember what must never be forgotten.”
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Gorsam Chorten: Sacred Rhythm Keeper

The towering white dome of Gorsam Chorten, built in the 13th century, is Zemithang’s spiritual heart. During the annual Gorsam Kora, devotees walk clockwise around the chorten — often for days — spinning prayer wheels and whispering mantras.

It’s here that you may witness spontaneous gatherings of villagers draped in traditional attire, their feet dusting the earth in quiet unison as someone plays a melody older than memory. No applause. No curtain calls. Just movement and meaning.

Snippets from the Valley
- Dance on Roofs:
  During festive months, you might see young villagers practicing on rooftops — their shadows dancing before their bodies.
- Songs Without Words:
  Elders sing wordless melodies that mimic river flows and wind patterns. Each tune has a purpose — to summon rain, to bless a harvest, or to honour the departed.
- Children of the Drum:
  Boys as young as six are taught the rhythm patterns — not from books, but by sitting beside the village drum, feeling the beats with their palms.
When Silence Is Music

Zemithang teaches you that rhythm doesn’t always require noise. The prayer flags fluttering above fields, the spinning of wheels in Gorsam Kora, the synchronized hand movements of masked monks — all of it is music. Just not the kind you measure in decibels.

Know Before You Go
- Festival timing: Visit during Losar (usually February–March) or the Gorsam Kora (April) for traditional dances and rituals.
- Stay options: Basic homestays available in Zemithang; limited mobile connectivity, but immense hospitality.
- Travel tip: Be respectful during religious dances — never interrupt or stand in front of masked performers. Photography should be minimal and only with consent.
In Zemithang, dance doesn’t seek an audience — it seeks continuity. It is a bridge between the seen and the unseen, between ancestors and children, between rhythm and silence. Come not to watch, but to witness.

In places where the world ends, the soul begins to move.”
July 5, 2025
The River That Waited
In the highlands of West Jaintia Hills, Jowai sits quietly above the Myntdu River — a town where legends don’t fade with time; they age like old folk songs, sung in the hush of pine forests and beside flickering hearths. Here, stories are not distractions from life — they are the very bones of it.

And among these, one story rises with the morning mist — the tale of the Myntdu River, a guardian spirit believed to be watching over the valley.

“She waited for a wedding that never happened, and so, she keeps flowing, waiting for closure.”
-an old storyteller whispers.

The River’s Vow

Locals say that Myntdu is not just a river; she is a sentient spirit. She watches everyone who enters the valley, flowing around Jowai like an ancient sentinel. According to legend, if anyone pollutes her waters or harms the forests along her course, the river will rise — not in anger, but in sorrow.

Routine cleaning of The Myntdu River by the locals

This myth is not just bedtime poetry — it has shaped how the Jaintia people interact with nature. Fishing is done seasonally, festivals often start with offerings to the river, and even children are taught to greet the river before splashing into her arms.

Sacred Stones and Whispering Pines

Beyond the river, Jowai is scattered with sites that hold mythological importance:
- Nartiang Monoliths:
  A short drive from Jowai brings you to this field of giant stone menhirs and dolmens — said to be raised by ancient warriors and kings. Some locals believe they were once living guardians, turned to stone to protect the land for eternity.
- Thlumuwi Stone Bridge and Falls:
  Built by Jaintia kings, this bridge is not just architectural pride but part of royal folklore. It is said that a royal couple once exchanged vows here, with the river promising to bear witness forever.
- Syntu Ksiar – The Flower of Gold:
  A riverbank area in Jowai that commemorates Kiang Nangbah, a local freedom fighter. Legend says he carried the spirit of the Myntdu river in him — strong, silent, and defiant.
Snippets from the Valley
- Pine Needle Smoke:
  Villagers use dried pine needles as fire starters. The smell clings to woolen shawls and stories alike.
- Midnight Drummers:
  During some harvest celebrations, you may hear drums deep in the forest — not played for an audience, but for ancestors.
- Water That Whispers:
  It’s said that if you sit quietly by the river at dusk, you’ll hear her hum — a melody only those who listen without speaking can hear.
Know Before You Go
- Best time: November to February for clear skies and local festivals.
- Stay: Guesthouses near Ialong Eco Park or local homestays around Thadlaskein Lake.
- Local tip: Always ask before photographing elders or sacred spaces. Respect isn’t requested here — it’s expected.
Jowai doesn’t just preserve its legends — it lives them. Whether it’s a whisper in the woods or the shiver of a river at dawn, the town reminds us that myths aren’t dead — they simply wait for someone who listens like they mean it.

Some places echo with noise; others hum with memory. Jowai hums.”
July 5, 2025