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Category: Tribes & Traditions

  • Flavours of the Forest at Chandubi

    Flavours of the Forest at Chandubi

    Chandubi is not where you go for restaurant reviews — it’s where the food finds you. In the rhythms of forest walks, in the slow smoke curling from a bamboo hut, and in the stories of grandmothers who never wrote a recipe but remember every taste. The food here doesn’t just nourish; it roots you.

    Most kitchens in the villages around Chandubi spill into courtyards. Cooking happens over firewood, beside banana leaves, with dogs dozing nearby and children peeling betel nuts. The menu? Wild greens foraged that morning, fresh fish from Chandubi lake, mustard-flavored everything, and rice — always rice.

    The Khasis, Garos, Rabhas, and Assamese people living around the area share overlapping culinary languages, yet each has its accents. From bamboo shoot-infused pork to the delicate sourness of the tenga (sour curry), the plate is a quiet rebellion against packaged taste.

    Specialties You Should Try

    • Bamboo Shoot with Fish/Pork:
      • Fermented bamboo shoot adds sharpness to a dish that simmers slowly.
    • Khar:
      • A traditional alkaline dish made with raw papaya, pulses, and banana stem ash — a signature Assamese touch.
    • Poita Bhat:
      • Fermented rice eaten cold, with mustard oil, onion, and chillies — a meal for the body, and memory.
    • Tenga Curry with Lake Fish:
      • Light and tangy, this is a bowl of Chandubi’s water, soul, and sunshine.

    A Morning at the Weekly Market

    The Chandubi weekly haat is a crash course in seasonal abundance. Wild mushrooms, red ants, silk cocoons, and sticky rice cakes share space with stories and gossip. This isn’t a place to bargain — it’s a place to learn. One elder said, “Food that grows here knows what we need before we do.”

    A Tea Break with Something More

    Near the lake, an elderly woman serves black tea in reused glass tumblers. She offers puffed rice and jaggery. “This is not snack,” she smiles. “This is memory.”

    Know Before You Go

    • Ask before clicking: Respect the kitchen space; many households are private and sacred.
    • Don’t expect menus: The best meals are what’s already cooking.
    • Carry reusable containers: You might get offered leftovers — that’s love in a bowl.

    Chandubi teaches us that food isn’t always plated; sometimes, it’s shared over laughter and silence. It’s smoke, spice, and generosity — passed not down but around.

    In some places, you eat to fill. In Chandubi, you eat to feel.”

  • Stories Flow Beneath the Surface

    Stories Flow Beneath the Surface

    Jowai, the heart of the Pnar people in Meghalaya’s West Jaintia Hills, is known for its tranquil charm — but beneath the stillness, there are stories layered like the riverbed of Myntdu. The locals say the river listens. It hears everything: prayers whispered into the wind, songs sung from betel-stained lips, the language of forests carried by bamboo flutes.

    This isn’t a place that explains itself. It invites you to stay long enough until the patterns reveal themselves.

    Ancestral Altars and Everyday Life

    Jowai isn’t frozen in the past — but its traditions breathe through daily life. In small courtyards, families light fires near monoliths for private rituals. Grandmothers recount legends of U Sajar Nangli while weaving cane baskets. There’s no ceremony to it. Culture is not performance here — it’s presence.

    Local Voices, Local Ways

    • The Weaver’s Wisdom:
      In Raliang village, a weaver says, “Our threads don’t follow fashion. They follow stories. Every motif has a meaning — it speaks of rain, harvest, or loss.”
    • Betel Nut Trails:
      All across Jowai, betel nut trees line paths and fields. They’re not just crops — they’re companions in rituals, offerings, and conversation.
    • The Rhythm of Rites:
      Traditional drumbeats at Niamtre ceremonies don’t seek an audience. They seek the ancestors. Outsiders are welcome, but not entertained — a distinction that makes all the difference.

    Interesting Insight: Myntdu is Sacred

    The Water Keeps the Memory”

    The Myntdu River is considered sacred by the Jaintia people. It is not just a water source — it is spoken to before rituals, crossed with care, and never disrespected. Some villages forbid washing clothes in it. The respect is not mandated — it’s inherited.

    A cleaning drive on the Mytundu River by the locals

    Know Before You Go: Travel Tips for Jowai

    • Getting there: About 65 km from Shillong by road. The drive winds through pine forests and waterfalls.
    • When to visit: Winter (Nov–Feb) for dry days, or monsoon (Jun–Sep) for misty magic and festivals.
    • Must-see: Tyrshi Falls, Thadlaskein Lake, Jowai market (especially on market day), Nartiang Monoliths.
    • Where to stay: Simple homestays around Jowai or nearby resorts toward Thadlaskein offer peaceful options.

    Jowai doesn’t unfold like a destination. It deepens like a conversation. One you may not fully understand, but one you’ll feel echoing long after the drive back.

    Not every journey shows you the world — some teach you how to listen to it.”

  • The Quiet Lake Beneath the Hills

    The Quiet Lake Beneath the Hills

    Tucked at the foothills of Assam’s Garo hills, Chandubi Lake doesn’t announce itself with drama. It greets you with stillness. Bamboo groves sway, birds return without a fuss, and the lake reflects whatever the sky decides to be.

    There are no brochures waiting at the entrance. But if you listen closely — to the paddles, to the forest hush, to the fire crackling outside a villager’s home — Chandubi speaks.

    Waters That Remember

    Locals say the lake was born after the great earthquake of 1897 — when the earth cracked, and the forest filled with water. Since then, time here has been shaped by nature’s memory.

    Fishermen paddle silently, navigating the shallows with bamboo poles. Their boats are hand-carved, passed down through families. “You don’t force your way through this lake,” says Dijen, who’s been fishing here for 30 years. “You move with it.”

    A Place That Doesn’t Hurry”

    Footsteps in the Forest

    A short walk through nearby tribal villages reveals everyday life — drying herbs tied to windows, handwoven baskets, children returning from school across leaf-strewn paths. No curated experiences. No lens flare.

    In the dense patches of forest that surround the lake, birdcalls become markers of time. Hornbills, drongos, and orioles all have their space. Nature doesn’t pose here — it carries on.

    Snippets from the Shore

    • The Evening Circle:
      • At sundown, villagers often sit in quiet groups by the water — not to discuss business, but to share warmth. Sometimes in words, sometimes in silence.
    • The Bamboo Rudder:
      • A fisherman guides his dugout canoe with one pole and a quiet hum. “The lake doesn’t rush,” he smiles. “So I don’t either.”
    • The Tea Stall Conversation:
      • A woman named Bina pours red tea and recounts how they celebrate Bihu by the lake, not with fireworks, but with community plays and shared cooking.

    The Garo Influence

    Though in Assam, the lake is closely linked with the Garo community. The border culture here means songs sung in Garo blend with Assamese rhythms. Traditional dances happen not on stage, but in open courtyards during local events. And food — smoked fish, wild greens, and fermented bamboo shoots — speaks of this mingling.

    Know Before You Go: Travel Tips for Chandubi

    • Getting there: Around 60 km from Guwahati. Accessible by road — best during daylight hours.
    • When to visit: October to March offers dry skies and the clearest reflections.
    • What to carry: Binoculars, light woolens, respect for nature — and time.
    • Stay options: Rustic eco-campsites and a few village stays offer meals, stories, and slow mornings.

    Chandubi won’t ask for your attention — it simply welcomes your presence. There’s no itinerary to chase here, only moments to notice: a leaf falling, a ripple growing, a stranger smiling.

    Some places you capture in photos. Chandubi is one you carry quietly, like a calm that lingers.”

  • Listening to the Edges in Menchuka

    Listening to the Edges in Menchuka

    Far in the folds of Arunachal Pradesh, where the land becomes hush before turning into Tibet, sits Menchuka — a small town that doesn’t rise like a destination but settles like a revelation. Surrounded by pine-clad hills, slivers of blue rivers, and quiet military roads, Menchuka balances solitude and surprise like few places can.

    The name ‘Menchuka’ loosely translates to “medicinal water of snow” — and the place lives up to it. Clean, high-altitude air. Springs that trickle with silence. Paths that lead not to landmarks but to feelings — of distance, resilience, and welcome.

    Alo People and Their Everyday Grace

    Menchuka is home to the Memba tribe, and nearby, to the Adi and Tagin communities. Here, hospitality isn’t a gesture — it’s woven into the daily rhythm. You’ll be invited in not with grand gestures, but with butter tea, laughter, and warmth that fills more than your hands.

    Traditional houses made from wood, stone, and bamboo overlook fields of barley and maize. Monasteries dot the hills, and in their prayer flags, the breeze carries centuries of quiet faith. Local kids play barefoot with sticks as cricket bats. Dogs bark at the wind, not at strangers. There’s no urgency to perform — and that’s what makes it beautiful.

    A Village Framed by Borders, Held Together by Belonging”

    Between Army Camps and Apple Orchards

    Menchuka stands close to the Indo-Tibet border — and the presence of the military is unavoidable. Yet, it doesn’t overshadow life; it blends in. Soldiers wave at locals, help repair bridges, buy from village stores. It’s one of the few places where camouflage uniforms and monk robes share the same footpaths.

    Meanwhile, in September and October, apple trees heavy with fruit bend near monasteries. In winter, the same roads are blanketed in snow — and the silence becomes deeper, almost sacred.

    Three Unusual Observations from Menchuka

    • Handwoven Textiles with Personal Codes:
      Traditional dresses often contain symbols woven by the weaver to reflect their personal story or beliefs — not visible to all, but meaningful to those who know where to look.
    • Oral Mapping Instead of Signboards:
      Locals don’t give directions with “left” or “right” — they tell you to turn “after the house with three prayer wheels,” or “beyond the sleeping dog corner.” It teaches you to observe, not just follow.
    • Monasteries That Smell of Juniper and Books:
      The Samten Yongcha monastery, older than any map you’ll carry, welcomes you not with grandeur but with incense, dusty prayer books, and chants that don’t demand understanding — only attention.

    When in Menchuka, Remember…

    • Best time to visit: March to May for greenery and October for golden harvests.
    • How to reach: By road via Aalo (a long journey best done in stages), or by helicopter from Itanagar (weather permitting).
    • Where to stay: Local homestays are often run by teachers, farmers, or retired army men. You’ll leave with stories, not just receipts.
    • Don’t miss: The 400-year-old Samten Yongcha Gompa perched on a cliff, and an early morning walk by the Siyom River when the fog hasn’t fully left.

    Menchuka doesn’t try to impress you. It offers space — to reflect, to connect, to walk slow, and to feel small in a good way. The quiet here is not an absence, but a depth — where stories aren’t told loudly, but land gently in your memory.

    In places where the road ends, something else begins — in Menchuka, it’s the sound of stillness you’ll remember.”

  • Culture, Farming, and Apatani Tribe of Ziro

    Culture, Farming, and Apatani Tribe of Ziro

    Tucked amidst pine ridges and misty fields, Ziro in Arunachal Pradesh is not just scenic — it’s deeply lived in. The valley isn’t curated for visitors; it’s cultivated for its people. The Apatani community, who have been shaping this land for generations, follow a way of life rooted in sustainability, subtlety, and strength.

    Here, farming isn’t just labor — it’s knowledge. Walk past a Ziro paddy field and you’ll see fish swimming between rice stems — an ingenious paddy-cum-fish cultivation system that maintains soil fertility and food security without synthetic inputs. Not a technique invented in labs — but a practice born of patience and observation.

    A Landscape that Grows with Its People”

    The Apatani Way: Tied to Earth, Time and Memory

    Every home in Ziro feels like it belongs to the land. Made of pinewood and set on stilts, Apatani houses are often built by the family itself. Look closer at the woodwork, and you’ll find motifs — suns, birds, hornbills, spirals — symbols passed down generations. These aren’t decorative; they’re communicative, echoing stories of nature, protection, and identity.

    The older generation of women, with facial tattoos and cane nose plugs, carry a history both personal and political — a symbol of resilience from a time when cultural identity meant survival. Today, fewer youth continue this tradition, but the pride remains intact, alive in their festivals, songs, and daily rituals.

    Ziro’s Natural Quiet Isn’t Empty — It’s Full

    There’s something rare about Ziro’s silence. Not the absence of sound, but the absence of noise. You’ll hear footsteps on dry leaves, the whoosh of a bamboo swing, the echo of wood being chopped, the low hum of conversations between neighbours.

    Birdsong is a big part of this landscape. Ziro is part of the Important Bird Area network — a haven for birds like the rare Blyth’s Tragopan. But bird-watching here doesn’t feel like a tour — it feels like being let in on a quiet secret.

    Community First: Shared Work, Shared Joy

    In Ziro, most activities — from repairing roofs to planting fields — are collective. It’s not just about efficiency; it’s about spirit. During Murung, the major festival, villagers gather to bless harvests and honour ancestors. The celebrations are marked by ceremonial mithun sacrifices, songs that recount lineage, and feasts where every visitor is welcome — not just as a guest, but as someone to share with.

    Evenings here aren’t for nightlife. They’re for long walks, over meals cooked in bamboo tubes, and for watching fireflies settle into the forests.

    Travel Tip: Be Curious, Not Just Present

    • Getting there: Ziro is accessible by road via Naharlagun (nearest railhead) or Lilabari (nearest airport). Expect long, winding roads — and incredible views.
    • Best time to visit: March to May (for spring beauty), or September for the Ziro Music Festival.
    • Stay options: Opt for homestays that offer cultural immersion over luxury. Hosts are usually happy to share stories, food, and time — if you ask with interest.
    • What to bring: Walking shoes, rain protection, and an open mind.

    Ziro isn’t about what’s missing from urban life. It’s about what’s quietly endured — harmony with nature, respect for rhythm, and dignity in tradition. Spend a few days here and you don’t feel detached from the world — you feel reattached to something you may have forgotten.

    Somewhere between the hills and hands that tend them, Ziro reminds you how to be human again.”