The monk who did not own a Ferrari!

The monk was from Burma and had come over to India in the late 70s. A long flowing grey beard, a pleasant smile, broken Hindi and a constant peacefulness characterised him. People from far away come here to take his blessings. I was in Devakota, nestled in the verdant hills, encircled by the Yang Sang Chu river in the eastern section of Upper Siang. A bit of background.

Last year's January, Roy and I were headed to the Singha village at the edge of the district close to the Dibang valley district. The trek from Tuting to Singha was to take us about two days, maybe three. The 70 odd km is often traversed by the Membas, Adis and Mishmis in the region in a single day! At Tuting we crossed over the Siang to the other side on a long cane bridge and passed through a few Adi villages; Nyameng and Jido being the first.

Most of the first day's trek was along the Yang Sang Chu, a river that cared a little about directions; it is a river that owing to the terrain, flows from South Easterly to North Westerly direction to meet the Siang close to Tuting. Somewhere after the Jido village, Roy exclaimed “this much forest can hurt the eyes!”. And he was right, in all the directions we could see there were beautiful forested hills, some of them with snow toppings. Since in the landscape we were in settled cultivation along the Yang Sang Chu valley was more common than shifting cultivation along the hillslopes, the forests in the hills looked fairly contiguous.

We figured we had just covered a third of the distance to Singha in the first day and Togorey our Mishmi guide took us to his sister-in-law's place in Nyering where we would rest the first night. Nyering is a village that has a mix of Adis, Membas and few Mishmis. The following day, prayer flags welcomed us to the Memba village Payengdam from where the view of the Dibang valley side was stunning.

The mithuns reared by the Membas looked relatively smaller than the ones reared by the Adis, and as it is looked a bit different and there were horses here too.

As I climbed down from Payengdam gazing at the prayer flags of Mankota, my knees gave in and I decided that going till Singha may not be a possibility. And if the pain in the knees stayed the trek back to Tuting would be even more difficult.

Which is how I spent three days with the monk at Devakota, a little distance away from Mankota! Devakota has a Buddhist temple and two houses beside it where the priests stayed. The monk I stayed with, the head priest, was different in many ways. Firstly, his wife, he belongs to the sect of the Buddhist priests in which marriage is allowed, offered me a mug full of millet beer with a bamboo pipe to drink, which is the Memba style. Of course in the three days I was there I never saw him drink any.

Also, between his prayers at the temple, he often goes to collect firewood or to do some chores. One of the days I went with him and he was intent on clearing a path for bringing back a huge log of wood from the banks of the Yang Sang Chu. When I figured he was tired, I took over in clearing the forest path, and after five minutes he took the Dao back unhappy with the way I was doing the job!

We chatted about Buddhism, about life in Bhutan and here in India, life in Devakota and he also told me that the Government was not sending enough funds to maintain the temple. The monk's wife was very interested in the bird book I was carrying and spent more than an hour going through the pages and telling me the local names for the birds. Later that day the monk told me to take a picture of him wearing his priest robe with his wife and asked me to print it and send it over whenever next possible. This will be possible next month since Roy will be going back.

People from all over Arunachal and even from other states visit Devakota to the Buddhist temple here to do Kora of the temple itself and the hill on which it is located. For me the three days spent there taught me the importance of being idle! I had carried no books to read, there was no electricity and no one to talk much to. But I enjoyed that feeling too. Prayers of the monk in the temple, a constant hum of the river flowing closeby, calls of several birds in the background, colours sprinkled into the day by butterflies, conversations with the monk and his wife filled my days.

Notes from the Aran festival

At 3 am I woke up once hearing the sound of pounding pestles; the Bomdian women were making 'Ittings', rice cakes for the 'Aran' festival. The men were perhaps still sound asleep, for their work begins much later. At 7 am, the men are now busy, gathering palm leaves, bamboo poles and tree boles, each one in charge of slaughtering mithun, pig or chicken. Today is the 'Aran' festival, although it is a hunting festival, it marks the beginning of the farming season. Overall, 15 chickens, 8 pigs and 1 mithun will be slaughtered in four households of the Bomdo village today. The meat though will eventually trickle down to every family in the village either from the clan or the clan-in-law portion. For instance, the Medo clan would divide all the meat among the 10 Medo households with the biggest portion for the household that owned the animal. These ten households will further distribute their portions to their in-laws. This year, although only two clans; the Medo and Duggong households slaughtered animals, the meat will be distributed among the seven clans in the village.

The Aran festival itself has had a herculean effort preceding it. The Bomdian men have been making fortnightly visits to their hunting camps, a day's walk (at least 15 km up and down the hills! link) from the village since last November. All the meat is smoke-dried in their camps and brought back to the village just before the Aran festival. On the day of Aran, the sisters would make rice cakes and offer it to their brothers who in turn would offer them dried meat; this could be of wild pig, serow, barking deer or even, rarely, the takin.

On this particular day, everything went on like clock work. It began with the pigs in the two Medo households followed by the massive millet beer brews. The smoked squirrels on the sides of the Phrynium leaves are supposedly put to bring balance to the brewing filter. And then I went to Kangong Duggong's home, where a huge Mithun was due for sacrifice. This one needed tugging by at least 20 folks and the Mithun actually broke two of the bamboo steps made for strangling it.

Then, there was an unexpected sad news. Bamut Medo, my field assistant's mother had passed on. This was particularly melancholic since I had sat beside her in the morning and someone had checked her pulse, she was alive when I was there. Now, an hour later shes gone. And gone with her are the experiences she has had in this landscape over a century, yes she was over a century old. She had been to Tibet thrice in her younger days, when salt was still bartered with the Tibetans in exchange for rice, rice beer, rice wine beads and cane artefacts from the Bomdo village. This is no mundane experience since the Tibet border is at least ten hills away, some of them snow-peaked. She used to bask in the sun every morning in Bamut's house and on my way and back from field she'd tell me she can't see me but can clearly hear me. With the broken Adi that I know I used to ask her if she had eaten, and she kept telling me it doesn't matter since she will be gone someday soon.

Half hour later I sat for a while with her body, while a tear unchecked made its way down my cheek, I saw her daughters and sons gathered for their final goodbyes. An old man was talking to her like she was alive, maybe she did hear him still. Couple hours later, some meat trickled to the place I stay in too and the day ended with some major notes and one major minor note.

Lazy sunday afternoon...

Its been a month since I have been here In Bomdo, but it just sunk in, Bangalore is now not just physically away, its mentally a long way away too. This sunday was unlike others. The day began late for me since all night the hum of rain falling on the tin roof of this 'bungalow' I stay in kept me. I woke up thinking its too much rain so field work is not a possibility and I can sleep in. The kid whom I recently employed to cook for me came in late too, at 6 am. I hear him chopping some wood to make the fire and very slowly I wake up. I was still hungover with the cold that I caught with the onset of the winter, four days back. It is still drizzling but I sent my field assistant Army to pick up lots of seeds of a Castanopsis species. Small oak like fruits, that remind you of the squirrel that would not let go of its fruit in the movie 'Ice Age'. These are quite tasty too, and the species fruits only once in two years, so I had to get some quick for my experiments, since many animals and birds make a quick meal of it. In fact I ate some two years back too; roasted on fire, they make a sumptous snack. So Army has left to bring back the seeds by himself since I am still a little sick and the walk to the place where these trees and seeds are is more than10 km to and fro in the hills.

After the morning meal cooking, I put in more wood and decided a bath is due. So I made some hot water and just finished with a rejuvenating and (a word that always takes me two minutes to remember!) a therapeutic bath. For the rest of the day, I plan to read a couple scientific papers, do some data entry and plan the field work for the next few months. I can't help but remember how it used to be in Bangalore when I was even a little feverish. Amma would prepare a peppery concoction we call 'kashayam' and a peppery pongal (rice and lentils) breakfast. I could read the newspaper and then contemplate life the whole day! Here, I would miss her caring but hey there is warm ginger tea and I could do the latter but contemplate not just life but my Phd too! But a bath did me real good; I feel fresh enough to make an entry on the blog and perhaps to get well soon enough to continue field work.

More from the beautiful land of simple people

I will always remember what M D Madhusudan called Arunachal; 'The beautiful land of simple people'. It remains etched in my mind and over the last few years here, I have experienced it too. This post is more of an update from Arunachal about two earlier posts on this blog about gutkha bags and wild meat.

Last year, I've seen these beautiful bags made of plastic Tiranga (local gutkha/pan masala) packets in the Yingkiong town as well as in few villages. Folks used to meticulously collect the packets discarded by mindless people, wash them, cut them and weave them into these bags. It made me happy, the packets are getting cleared from the town and villages, and these bags are being bought by the locals and the tourists. Still, a decision by the Supreme Court taken earlier this year made me happier. Take a look at this article. So now in Arunachal, not only is the sale of gutkha packets banned close to schools, but the packets are also made of paper, perhaps more bio-degradable.

The second update is about the meat market at Itanagar. I was there two days back and was doing the usual rounds looking for wild meat and was glad there was none. Then, my friend informed me that there was a raid just a week ago, the local Forest Department found an unclaimed bag of wild pig meat in the market and then issued a notice banning this. Here is the article about this. Since the peak hunting season begins in early October, this raid and the ban are very timely. Lets hope the wild animals are spared from the meat market for at least this hunting season.

Lets hope theres more happy news on the way to the Siang districts where I am headed for another field season.

An ode to Bomdo

This was written on an evening before I left Bomdo. There had been no electricity in the village for almost a week, and I was preparing to leave the village after a seven month stint. The only thing I could do more than mentally bid a bye to Bomdo was write about what I felt, so here goes...

"The evening sun creeps behind the green hills and darkness spreads, ever slowly,

there is no moon yet and I can't turn on any lights, there are none to be.

But I feel sublime, for, there is a glistening spark inside me

a glint of my spirit that ignites the embers within.

For a while, there will be no humming water springs, no more gush of the river below,

no more flowers that paint an entire hill, no orchids that rouge a tree,

no more humbling mountains, no more tall trees to gaze upon

and no more rain that forms cascades ever anew.

No more butterflies that paint the day, no more fireflies to flicker the night,

no more birds to add sounds to a silence

and no more clouds that move as fast as the river in might.

Yet this journey has now hardly come to an end.

After few days in the place I belong,

where the skies oft turn black from smoke, where refuse oft fills the lakes and soil,

where time will be spent racing with time itself, and days are not as long,

here I shall return where nature is unbound and where still stands time."

Incidentally, the day I left Bomdo was the biggest festival of the Adis, the Solung. The significant activity during this festival is that of sacrificing Mithuns. Five Mithuns were hung in the morning and I meticulously videotaped two of them. Millet beer was served for everyone and a dish made of fried Mithun stomach. After a stomach full of stomach, I packed up and left on my bike and was contemplating the day and the field season while I was slithering down the winding road from Bomdo to Yingkiong. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realised why Mithuns are so important for the Adis, not only are they a major protein source, they are also an essential part of all the rituals and festivals that go on throughout the year. My mind kept ringing 'The king is dead. Long live the king.'

An eight year old Mithun, she gave birth to many  successors

The meat being distributed to the seven families who bought the Mithun

Atypical Bomdo evening

The day was bright, unlike all the other days in this year. Its already April and four months into the year, we only just today had the sunniest day of the year. Its not like any other years too, March and April often pack in enough sunlight to make you miss the chill of the winter. But here at Bomdo, we had rains, lots of it, out of place perhaps, surely out of time. Sunny days come here rare; so I do the chores, wash up all my clothes, socks especially and the unmentionables. The day is spent mostly reading Murakami's 'Kafka on the shore' and for only the second time ever I am hungover with a book. The previous time I had read 'East of Eden' by Steinbeck and felt a pang. I was alone too, in a secluded Inspection Bungalow in Boleng town in West Siang but thats another story. Kafka on the shore left me with a feeling much deeper and intense and I decided to take the day off to meditate over the book and to do chores.

Evening comes by and just an hour before the sun dips into the hills, I head to the local shop that opens duly at 4 pm. Its closed. So instead I play cricket with the local boys, am not a big fan of the game but what the hell, any excercise in sport here can only do me good. Thats where the atypical day begins, not just because it was the sunniest day of the year but because of the events that follow up. I am not too good at cricket too, but today was different, I am usually a better bowler than batsman. I batted for an entire twenty minutes, the local boys trying their off-spins, leg spins and the occasional fast ball, but in vain they can't get me out. There are bowlers too who before bowling proudly announce, three off spin balls and three leg spin ones are coming at you. Whats subtle is that the actual spin of the ball is decided by which tiny stone on the pitch the ball is going to hit! I take a pause to see what the other local boys are doing, they are immersed into a game of housie, how did this game ever get here. This is what I wonder even in towns like Jenging and Yingkiong. These are places which have only in the last few years recieved cell phone network, but these towns have had snooker parlours for longer! And so in my village that has no network, people play housie, the scene doesn't definitely fit in, but I take it in, smiling at how a typical Bomdo evening can be, full of surprises and new thoughts and realisations. Just as I think this an old man walks casually close to the field with a boar on his back. It reminded me of Asterix & co. He had hunted boar from the forest that adjoins the village, and was walking with it strung to his back as though he had bought some ham from the local meat shop. However I understand he had put in a lot of effort into this, he went to a place called Dicheng which is at least an eight hour trek from the village for me.

Army, my field assistant sends a leg cutter meanwhile, and I drive, an on-drive, its a four by the looks of the shot. While the ball is collected, I look at the local children, all of them immersed too in the game of housie in which a wheel is spinning. Nyelik's three year old daughter spins me a look and a smile and I take a moment to see how beautiful she is and also wonder about the resemblannce between Nyelik and his daughter, hang on, the next ball is here, oops I get the outer edge and a catch and finally get out, to my relief too. Minutes later, I am bowling, and take a wicket or two I can't remember.

After the game, I head to Bonggar's house, he was cross with me that I hadn't visited him since November, unintentionally of course, I was immersed in my field work and the other days in thoughts damp with the torrential rain. I was tired too, but it looked like more tired were my field boots and pants. The expensive field gum boots I picked up from Bangalore had a hole in them, so water would seep in and dampen the socks, much to the delight of the leeches whose season begins just about now. My field pants too tore yesterday, indicating and implying to me that field season is over, lets go home. But unfortunately for my field gear, I need to spend another two months in the village before I get a break. Anyways, back in Bonggars place, I stepped in for tea but had to settle for rum. And with the rum, dried venison which tastes awful, but the protein is good, so i dunk it in. Bonggars folks are immersed in a Television soap played courtesy of Tata Sky. I was thinking what a contradiction it is that we don't have phone network in the village but television plays like theres been no yesterday. Anyways, drink done, snack done, I head back to the Inspection Bungalow (IB) where I sleep. A tastier meal awaits me there.

When I reach, theres a bunch of boys working for the Electrical Department making merry and singing songs. Theres twelve of them and I call them the Inglorious Basterds. They get along very well with each other though almost every one of them hails from a different place. And they have a beautiful lingo going between them, someones calling the other a dog to be called pig by the other in turn. Phonetically it makes the IB a lively place, for me thats a welcome change, since the other months I have spent here, evenings have been full of sounds of either wind or the rain or things from trees bouncing off the tin roof that the IB has. The other good thing is they cook for twelve people anyway so I join them happily and eating with a bunch of people is something I miss here in the IB too.

After the meal, I zip into my sleeping bag and write this. What a typical Bomdo evening!

Medo Karthik

I have been visiting Bomdo village for a long time now, since February 2008. But never have I felt a part of the village as much as in the last few weeks. There are eight clans in the village; Nyodo, Duggong, Yalik, Panga, Lanchong, Dungmik and Medo. The Medo clan has now unofficially included me in their clan; I explain here how.

The customs of the Adis are quite interesting. Among the clans, whenever any members hunts a wild animal, he gives a piece of the meat to closest relatives of his clan. Some meat is also distributed to close relatives among other clans; for instance, to the in-laws. It is quite surprising that there is no fine if somebody doesn't do this, but this tradition is now going on for several centuries. Nevertheless, distributing meat among clan members ensures supply of meat throughout the hunting season at least. So, the last time a barking deer was hunted by the Medo clan, I was called to my friend, Bamut Medo's home for dinner. He casually remarked that I was one of the Medos now, I didn't believe him then, but protein is not in an abundant supply in the village, so I happily obliged.

Today (6th Feb), a Mithun was cut in the village. In this case too, the meat is distributed among all the Medos. I was not only invited for dinner, which was mainly Mithun stomach boiled and rice, to three houses, I was also given a small chunk of the meat! Now, I believe I am one of them! 

On another note, I have fortified the camp I stay in the village (the inspection bungalow) with all the essentials. I now have a Chang (a smoking place above the cooking fire), a small almirah to keep all the stuff needed for cooking, a pestle, an aluminium mug, a small backup cylinder, a backup electric stove, a solar charged light, a radio, the works, take a look. Just now, I also made sure the fire goes on for a few hours so the Mithun meat gets smoked. That way it can stay for several days without getting spoilt. The way the Adis smoke it, the meat apparently lasts for five years!

Burning one (fire) down!

The pestle that brings lovely flavour to my food,
made of Jackfruit tree wood

My kitchen, its all there!

And finally here is the mug that I picked up from the market; its uses are several, heres a list of things that I have made in it; fried eggs, fried fryums, tea, coffee, boiled water, soup, dal, drink tea/coffee, chatni with the pestle, measure rice to cook with it and the list goes on. In fact, I call it the invincible mug because we had taken this mug on a trip to Mouling National Park and it was the only vessel we carried besides one large vessel to cook dal and rice. So in the five day trip, we used this mug to measure rice to be cooked, to make tea, to smash boiled potatoes, to serve dal and again the list goes on. I call it invincible because when we camped by the Sidi river in the Eggong camp, a Mithun had stepped on it to make it quite oval in shape. In the middle of the night, someone screamed saying my mug was gone. Calmly, I woke up in the morning and brought it back to shape by hitting it gently with a rock and the mug is back in use! Well, this is the one thing I rate as most useful ever in field.

The invincible mug!

So, I sleep today convinced that I am not only a researcher in the village, but perhaps also one of them now.

New kid on the blog

I arrived to the Bomdo village this time end of November last year. I had several expectations and was quite excited  and nervous since my field work was soon to begin. I was also excited that I would meet the village folk after six months. But I had an even more pleasant surprise in store for me. At about 1 pm when I arrived to the village and visited my man-friday Gekut's house he wasn't there. He and his wife had gone to the field, for it was the rice harvesting season. So I waited till early evening and then I saw Gekut rushing to the Inspection Bungalow where I stay. He said he had a third kid! In a hurry to catch a glimpse, I ran to his house.

The Poyup or the farm house where Kayit was born, in Loging

Gekut and his wife had gone to Loging, their current shifting cultivation field, and minutes after they reached Nyomen, Gekut's wife announced that she was in labour and having no other woman to help him with this, he just waited aside her helplessly and pulled the kid out himself. I was bewildered by the fact that the same day she gave birth she also went out to the fields to bring back at least 30 kilos of rice, and Loging itself is a good 5 km walk through the forests. However, here in the village there are several such instances. Perhaps due to their physical endurance during shifting cultivation, even giving birth to a kid is not as serious an issue as it is often in towns. The whole village apparently suggests names for new born kids till finally a name is chosen. I suggested 'Siben' which is the local name for a takin (Budorcas taxicolor), making him a very special person, being named after the rarest animal in the region. The lad was finally named Kayit and I see him almost everyday and still call him Siben! Gekut says someday Kayit will become the Deputy Commissioner of the Yingkiong circle and I said that I will happily fund his education.

Gekut and Junior

हैं होगा

I've by now absorbed a bit of north-east hindi lingo, which is quite confusing compared to the hindi we speak in the rest of the country. Here, the language has been adapted to the inherent logistical uncertainties there. Here is a hypothetical instance...

One day, one Nyishi tribe folk asked another, 'has the bus been here yet' and the other Nyishi replies, 'no'. It had so happened that the latter fellow had not noticed the bus leave when he was off for 'minus'. Minus is by the way, what folks here refer to answering nature's call, a simple logical euphemism. So then after waiting the entire day, the first Nyishi walked up to the other guy and bashed him up for no real fault of his. There must have been several such instances, with the topic of discussion each time being different, nevertheless, leading to major arguments or fights.

Here is the only way it could have ever got resolved, by the inclusion of this beautiful hindi word 'hoga'. Consider this, if in the previous instance, the person replying had said 'Bus to gaya nahin hoga', the other could have re-considered the truth in the non-affirmative reply, and could have asked another person who could be more definite about such simple things as to whether a bus had left or not. But it so happens that the other guy would also reply, 'Bus gaya hoga', since he was also involved in arguments as the one mentioned afore. My point is that in the general language, 'hoga' has become a diplomatic suffix which makes it tough to know answers to simple questions. The funniest hoga yet is 'hain hoga'. This is somewhat similar to scientific writing. Writing 'considerably different', 'statistically different', 'likely to be different' keeps the person writing safe from future discoveries!

By the way, there is an extension to 'hoga', which I assure you by experience, only complicates matters. Often, the word 'kya' is added as a bonus suffix to 'hoga'. So, 'has the bus been here yet?', pat comes the safest and often useless reply, 'gaya nahin hoga kya'. When I get this reply, I would ask about what time does it usually leave, to get an idea of his confidence interval and to know if his today's data is an outlier!

Like I mentioned earlier, anyone who has been here for a while adopts this lingo. There are other ways in which the hindi here is different. 'Nahin' (no) becomes 'ho jayega' (will do or enough). Not long ago, my sister in Bangalore had made rotis for dinner. After belting half a dozen when she asked me if I would like more, I said 'ho jayega'. She asked me 'kya ho jayega' (what will happen).

Apologies to folks reading this, who don't have a hindi background. 'Samaj mein to aa jayega hoga!'

Yingkiong ho!

This is a post I write while heading to Yingkiong a town close to my research field site. Although the title post is inspired by Yukon Ho of the Calvin Hobbes fame, this trip needed a LOT more planning! For a year and a little more I was raising funds for my research, for half that year I gazed at my research proposal, waiting for a miracle, and for a month or so there has been a hullaballoo about getting the equipment, papers and the logistics together. Actually the meat of this article was only the last two lines but thought I will throw in a few ribs. Here, I list all the things that are in my three bags i carry, think I will have more words than any of my earlier posts had!

Miscellaneous: Water bottle - Laptop with charger - Phone with charger - an ink pen and a bottle of ink - one book to read - few pairs of clothing - warm clothes - couple of socks - soap - towel - brush and paste - an Adi knife called Yoxik - cap

Equipment: soil moisture meter - canopy densiometer - rain gauge - watchdog data logger - soil moisture / Ph sensor - GPS - lux meter - batteries for all equipment - gum boots - poncho - umbrella - dynamo torch - waterproof bag - camera - binoculars - camera tripod - 300 GB hard disk - brush to clean my laptop -mp3 player - 4 gb pen drive

Food & beverages: sambar powder - chatni powder - rasam powder - pappula podi - 30 chapatis - tomato onion dry curry - half a litre of orange vodka

Gifts: two watches for my field assistants - a poncho - three dynamo torches - a couple headcaps

Unmentionables: unmentionable!

All this stuff weighs about 18 kilos, two kilos below the 'pay your ass off' offer at the airport for excess luggage! Well, I am headed, I sit here behind in my dad's car and type this and looks like the next half year and more are going to be exciting!

Here is the stuff as seen through the scanner at the airport, its all there!

Here is the luggage of three people for six months, almost like house-shifting!

I know the blog has been idle for a while, but here I am headed to field and will write in many 'stories for boys' soon. watch this space!

A plastic graveyard

I was swooping through a mud road casually on an ancient scooter to the foundation for revitalisation of local health and traditions office somewhere close to Yelahanka New Town in Bangalore. For once, I was enjoying large patches of Eucalyptus trees, some native Sizygium, Mango trees, since this was after passing through the thick smoggy air on Airport road. A shikra was meticulously searching for a meal as I zipped through the road. Till then, I was enjoying the smells of damp mud, Euca trees and suchlike when I caught a pungent whiff. A tractor in front of me was carrying trash, some of it decomposed, some smelling fresh, most of it plastic wrappers of various sizes. Looking at it one could imagine where all this came from; someone from a house must have dumped twenty plastic wrappers yesterday; their stuff was neatly packed in these wrappers after shopping in a mall just a day ago, someone must have casually dumped all their extra food from an extravagant meal into the bin, someone else may have thrown their old keyboard, having no use for it now, someone else must have dumped a silver wrapper they packed their food in to keep it hot, some fresh Tropicana juice tetra packs and dozens of such items. A question popped into my head, 'where does this all go?' I had seen a landfill in Vidyaranyapura many years ago. This tractor I decided to follow.

Trying to avoid the whiff but not lose track of the vehicle, I followed it to about 3 km away. After few turns, I saw what I can call a 'trashscape'. At first, I didn't realise what it was, but lo a couple hillocks of white plastic trash appeared in front of me. There were at least a hundred Pariah kites (the word 'Pariah' here seems fitting) and crows grabbing at the contents of this trash heap. About twenty almost-about-to-die frail looking dogs made this place their home. Nearby I saw what looked like a treatment plant. So I casually struck a conversation with one of the folks at this 'plastic valley' and he told me. Large holes are dug in the ground with a JCB crane, and the plastic is filled into the holes. Some of the trash which may be organic is treated. The person I spoke to didn't know the exact details of what happens to this stuff. But another detail he told me left me awestruck. About 150 tractors like the one I had seen dump their contents into this place EVERYday! And this has been happening for more than five years!

Unable to digest the whole situation, I left the place, more confused and bewildered than earlier when I was seeing the shikra and the trees. Back in the north-east, I live in a village much less civilised, where people are not believed to be as intelligent as us city-dwelling modern people. They have been living in the same village for at least five hundred years. So where is their heap of trash? There is hardly any use of plastic and the little that seeps into the village is used up for starting the fire in the morning. I don't think its the best way to dispose plastic, but hey, they aren't at least burying it in the ground! In the nearest town Yingkiong, plastic is banned, so when you buy something you get it in a brown paper bag. In Itanagar town in Arunachal, there is a fine of 500 rupees for using a plastic bag. So why can't this be done in big cities where people are more educated and supposedly more civilised!

Back at home, every morning, a small three-wheeler comes home with a jarring honking sound to appeal to people to bring out their trash and deposit. Now, I know where all this goes so I feel guilty to hand over the plastic bag filled with trash to him. I am still looking for solutions, separate the stuff, use some for compost, collect the rest, items such as plastic, batteries and other non degradable items. But what to do with these. I still seek the solution and hope that someday my home can produce as little non degradable waste as possible.

PS the dump by the way can be seen from a satellite image, here it is, the white hill! For a clearer image, search for 'frlht' on wikimapia and then go west a km.

Top 10 things to carry to field

Bomdo

07-03-2010

Just now, I thought of this post: to put down on paper things that can make life simpler in the field. The post is based on an assumption that one has to cook one's own food using firewood and that whats on the menu is whats available. Here, I might have lost more than half my audience, the other half may read along!

1. A sharp knife/Dao/Kukhri/Katti – This is very essential to chop firewood. I usually don't carry one, since even on the check-in baggage it doesn't look convincingly harmless. Here, I have borrowed someone's dao.

2. Sambar powder – This one is a panacea for all kinds of hunger; an occassional sambar, potato fry, any curry, actually, it can add flavour to any food. My mom makes this and packs it for me. MTR is a good backup too.

3. Pickle/any podis/chatnis – These are great to have with just rice too. Never tried rice and pickle as main course at home but here it is sumptous with fresh onions. I also feel that I am bringing a small part of home with me here! Pickles are good for my Andhra blood too!

4. A small knife – Here, the Adis use a Yoxik, in this particular village it is called Chigdo, photo below. This is very useful, for it is difficult, dangerous and funny too, to cut veggies with a big knife.

5. A peeler/grater or a small pestle – This one's usefulness I can't describe enough. Ginger-garlic paste, dry fish chutney, peeling potatoes, these are only few uses of this contraption. Do carry one.

6. Instant coffee powder – Its nice to wake up and smell firewood burning followed by the smell of coffee. Its also useful to make friends in a remote village. That way you always have something to offer. I've even got a friend here who is now addicted to it, he comes here every morning for a steaming cup of coffee.

7. Radio – Very useful, works without electricity which may often be the case. But beware of Chinese channels!

8. Umbrella and raincoat – Here in Upper Siang, it could rain anytime of the year, even while 'mine truly' is reading this.

9. Inland letters – I've written several letters from field. Can't recieve any though, seems it may take even a year or more for a letter to get to Bomdo!

10. Lastly, packets of 'Puliyogare, Bisibele bath, Sambar' pastes are very handy. They taste nothing like home food but are tangy enought to fill your belly.

I am not saying that these are the only things to carry or that these are the more important ones. There's also medicines, books to read, gum boots, several pairs of underwear and socks, woolen thermals, etc. But these are the more obvious things one needs to take to field. Listed above are things I've learnt to carry since I miss them when I don't. If you think you also have such a list and most items don't match the ones mentioned here, please post them and drop a link.

Against all odds

Bomdo

26-02-2010

The yellow-throated marten is called 'Sikki' by the Adis here in the Upper Siang district. Today, I went to a 50-year old abandoned shifting cultivated field and saw several trees. Almost as many as I saw earlier in the adjoining patch which was abandoned following cultivation 100 years ago. Field work this time was a pain since February-end/March is the beginning of the cultivation cycle and everyone is busy. To top that, the day I landed here, there was some festival, called 'Mithun' puja, when Mithuns are slaughtered and meat distributed among the clans. If they talk to any outsiders, referred to as 'Ayings' here, their Mithuns and pigs may get killed by wild animals. I could immediately see the connection here. And one last detail, its raining cats and dogs here, in February that too!

So three days later, it turned out this way. Due to rains, the festival was cancelled and therefore i could meet people and the sun generously came out yesterday and ahoy field work began. This time, I am here to enumerate trees in different aged abandoned shifting cultivation fields, which brings me right back to martens. I was tired after the first field day after several months and was wondering why I chose such a remote and difficult to work in place. I took a few more heavy steps and heard movement in the undergrowth. This was so close to the village and at mid-day that I was expecting domestic pigs. But they were martens! One runs away, the other chases, the third, while passing turns around for a second or two and gives me a 'what are youdoing here' look. My field assistant Durik told me that they were probably fighting and that martens are against odds. Let me explain.

The Adis think/know that martens are never comfortable in groups of 3,5,7 and so on. If there are 3 or 5 or 7, one will get definitely eaten by the others. So I asked Durik if anyone has seen this happening and he said many people have and its for sure! And people from another village down the Siang river, Ramsing, told me the same too. Wonder whats going on! Another detail is that they never eat the marten meat here, but they do kill it when they see one, since martenskills chicken in the village. Anyways, for me after a tiring day in the field, I was happy to see three, although perhaps fighting with each other, martens!

Firestarter

Roy came along this time to Bomdo, Upper Siang. When I planned this visit, i was pensive: what about food, firewood is a pain to work with. And cooking for one person more so. But I didn't figure it out earlier, it was Roy who came along. From morning one, he was the pyromaniac. I would in the 4 days he was here, wake up and smell the fire. He also has super culinary skills. We'd had some very tasty curries in Itanagar together. There was this one day even in Bomdo, when we were out of veggies and we walked an hour collecting ferns. This fern we call 'Terimey soppu' down South (likely Diplazium species) is here as well. This was the one time we foraged for veggies, made the fire, cooked the meal and ate it, a very nice experience for someone hailing from Bangalore.I could picture him in the video of 'firestarter' by 'Prodigy'. Anyways, I figured, following his stay in Bomdo, I wake up, make the fire, cook my meal, pack it for field work, come back, cook again and feel pretty good about the whole thing! Thanks Roy, cheers!

Pakké rocks

Yes, back in the north-east, so the blog continues! Apologies for not posting often, but I wasn't here in the north-east and I did not want to change the main theme of the blog! This time before heading to Itanagar and then on to my study site - Bomdo village, I am at the first stopover at Pakké Tiger Reserve where my colleague (Amruta Rane) and her team are doing the tiger census which is going on right now across the country. This is the best opportunity to get into a Tiger Reserve and that too on an on-the-house trip, well actually, on-the-Forest-Department trip! But firstly, about what happened before I got here.

Guwahati & the dust-bath

Guwahati, the main gateway to north-east is quite a town: crowded, tambul (betelnut) chewers and spitters everywhere and now multiplexes and big malls. Its like a small city mimicking a big one out here. Another annoying thing about the city is the dust-bath, smoke and dust everywhere, and if you are anywhere near Khanapara, if you ever are, cover your face with a kerchief! Its like you take in dust in your nostrils before you take the smell of a forest anywhere beyond Guwahati. In fact, the only good thing about the place is that bus fare from anywhere to anywhere ranges from 3 – 5 rupees, and its been that way for almost four years now.

Anyway, I spent three days at Guwahati before I got to Arunachal Pradesh, not by choice, as you will read. My good friend Narayan's family has adopted me over the last few years and treated me as one of the family and taken me in whether I am headed to Bangalore or whether I am headed to field like this time. There was even once a tiime when I had a rupee left when I got to Guwahati since I had expected a bank to be open at 5 pm, it wasn't. So with all my luggage, which usually exceeds 10 kilos, I walked, to be specific from Bangagarh to Khanapara, almost 8 km! But when I got to Krishna bhaiyya's place I was treated like I would be at home: a hot water bath and a super-sumptous meal. But coming back to the topic of why I had to spent three days in Guwahati, I needed to apply for an inner line permit (ILP) for entering Arunachal. When I was earlier working with G B Pant Institute at Itanagar, I had a 1-year, all-Arunachal ILP, but this time to get a 1 week ILP to a single destination (in this case, Seijosa, the entrance to Pakké Tiger Reserve), I had to wait two days! Felt a bit sick, but hey, here I am! The first day in Arunachal began at Pakké, which brings us to the hot topic of the blogpost.

A sort of field-coming

After many months down South, it feels great to be back in the beautiful forests here. I got to Seijosa and within half hour was to leave for the Panch-iali camp in Pakké, where one of the five roads that lead to nowhere leads to the camp! First glimpse of Arunachal after almost a year, beautiful! The great barbet call was on which usually provides the timely beat of the sounds of the forest, nice lowland forest right in front of me, Duabanga, Erythrina and Toko, the local palm used for thatching, were flowering and yes Pakké rocks, they really rock. Each is a different colour, shape and has a different texture.

I call this one Roti, egg & butter!

We also saw several Khaleej pheasants and red junglefowl and on one occassion even together, wonder what that was about.

A khaleej and junglefowl

Then we took on the survey, this usually involves looking for pugmarks around nallahs, or streams. The first day we saw pugmarks of two tigers, at least one leopard and some wild dogs too. The second day, today, was one of the most beautiful walks. Often, we saw the Oriental Pied and the Wreathed hornbills and very often we would hear them flying over the canopy with a muffled Chopper-like sound. In all, we saw about 5 Wreathed hornbills and 3 Oriental Pied ones, all in a couple of hours walk.

I also took a bath at a stream, with some Puntius and Leopard Loaches. A bath after three days, after a dust bath at Guwahati, awesome!

Leopard loach

Day before yesterday, I left from the civet camp and headed off to Seijosa and on the way saw some interesting things too. I saw a black stork for the first time and there was this thrush that was limping on the tracks. One of the Forest Department guys picked it up and we got a closer look and I think it was a female black-breasted thrush. Here's the picture.

Black stork

Black-breasted thrush

Charan da the person driving us to Seijosa also told us an interesting thing. There was this mammal that used to defecate in the same place for the last few months, according to him a cat. I couldn't think of a cat that does that and then he even took us to the place. This is the picture of the scat.

Unidentified scat

So Amruta and Charan decided that they can afford to leave a camera trap at the place and perhaps pick it up in a week. So we may get picture of this toilet-trained carnivore. I am really looking forward to what it might be, maybe I will write about it in a future blog post.

In all, truly, Pakké rocks!

PS: The cat stopped visiting its personal lavatory after they fixed the camera trap. Its most likely a civet, sorry for the loss of a loo!

Hirudin day

Madla camp

07-09-09

Woke up late in Madla camp today. With eyes still half open I cut about 2 cm candle, put some wood together and started a fire. Coffee next and then Shankara anna made me rice and dal. Plan of the day was crossing the swollen Somavahini river and going to abandoned paddy fields in Hipla and Karvani villages. After breakfast, we went to the river to inspect, plan B! To go to Kesave village but through a longer route because we can't cross the stream and although Kesave camp was on the other side of the river, the fields we had to visit were on our side. We had enquired earlier if there was an alternative route without crossing the river but no one in the Forest Department knew. Shankara anna said that we should find a way on our own, so it was to be.

We left at 11 am hoping we can go along the side of the river. Though a river winds a lot, we thought it can't be more than 5 km since the jeep trail was only 3 km. We start to walk. I hadn't judged the terrain in this season and was wearing slippers, much to the delight of the leeches. In all the muck/swamp the slippers proved what they are called and several times I had to fix broken slippers. In all this commotion, there was no time to even remove leeches. It took us abut 3 hours and about 100 leeches must have had bottoms-up from my feet. We reach at 2.15 pm, finish vegetation sampling by 3.30 and walk back in about 2 hours since we knew the route. Another 100 leeches. I reach camp, take this photograph and salted them. I'd have never imagined a day like this in field. I drank a cofee, had evening meal and put my feet in a stream closeby and the fish cleaned up most of the mess in my legs. Later I lie down writing this and conclude 'leeches suck!'

Sorry for the grossness of the picture, but it was quite tempting to post!

Chinese whispers!

Madla camp, Bhadra

06-09-09

Last night in Bhadra, Madla camp I was listening to Queen. Before that I tuned my Radio to short wave to look for more interesting channels than Akashvani-Hassana. First channel I tuned in reminded me of times in Arunachal and after listening to Queen I was thinking ‘all we hear is, Chinese channels’. Now somebody please tell me why there are so many, so many Chinese channels. Does this have anything to do with the fact that the radio I was using was ‘Made in China’. I can understand this if I was in Bomdo village in Arunachal, I was so close to Tibet, it was but natural to tune into Chinese channels. There was even a program teaching Chinese in English. Wan-an I remember hearing which means good night and then I turned off the radio. And yes, how do they produce that music with jarring instruments, sounds like elephants are tuning their trunks! I do listen to a bit of Chinese classical music but to hear this in a camp in forest is not a pleasant experience, believe you, me.

By the way, then I found BBC, good one. I remembered listening to BBC in Garo hills and Arunachal and felt nice to tune in from Bhadra. A discussion was on about the similarity between Hinduism concept of beginning of the world and that of science. A radio is, I think the best thing to have in field and the best thing to gift your field assistant after the field season! My MSc field assistant Shankara anna, who I am presently with in my camp after three years told me, ‘everday when I turn on the radio you gave me, I think in my mind, ‘Hi Karthik’!’ Apparently the radio was even offered a price of 1500 bucks, but he wouldn’t part with it. It’s a Grundig hand-crank radio, he has also tied a wire to its antenna to make it reach out. A minute of cranking produces ten minutes news or some good music or some Chinese music. This time, it had batteries to save all the cranking! I gave another radio to a friend in Ramsing, Upper Siang, will he be listening to it everyday too!

Blog's not dead, long live the blog

Folks,

Since its been a while since I've written and since I've been in the north-east, I thought I'd post at least something I wrote sitting in my field site three months ago. Also, I almost forgot my blog password, so better keep writing and log in more often!

No pics, but this one doesn't need.

'The Hindu means home to me

Waking up at 7 am and smelling the coffee brewing and breakfast cooking was a schedule for me everyday in Bangalore. The newspaper would be dropped anytime between 7 and 7.15 am and I would be eagerly waiting to pick up a cup of coffee and read 'The Hindu' newspaper. Having a grandfather who worked for the newspaper for almost fifty years and a cousin who writes for the Hyderabad edition, we always subscribed to the Hindu. Saturdays and Sundays were even more special with the Young World and Sunday Magazine supplements, and sometimes better still, Book Reviews. The Editorial, the crossword and the Calvin and Hobbes strip will remain my all-time favourites.

Working in north-east India on wildlife for the last year or so, I haven't had access to the Hindu, although for a month I subscribed to the pdf version of the paper which was quite expensive so couldn't follow it up. The website version was not the same as reading the paper although I often browse it. But this time when I got back from home I brought few copies of the paper.

My schedule here is quite different. In Arunachal Pradesh where I work on birds and shifting cultivation, no one can afford to wake up at 7 am; I wake at 4.30 most days and cook my breakfast and then head to field. They say the early wildlifers get the birds! I come back few hours later and then settle down and today on the 30th of January still enjoy reading the Hindu copy of January 3rd I picked up from home! Paul Krugman says the republicants have started whining in the days before Obama has taken power, LTTE have been blown in Kilinochchi in Sri Lanka and the army is headed further north, beef slaughter houses in Bangalore are going to be closed temporarily and so on and so forth.

The point being that sometimes when I miss home, reading this paper I catch a glimpse of the leisure hours at home when mom makes coffee and breakfast and my chore is merely to wake up and then head to college. Here it's quite different, slightly more independent and sometimes a bit tiring. But when I read The Hindu, it still feels different; I take a leap two thousand km south-west to back home sitting on my sofa with a cup of coffee! Maybe, I will ask my mother to post me the Sunday Magazines copies too!'

PS: Now, the Hindu has a north-east edition, YAY!

Just orchidding

March was the month when forest was cleared and burnt for shifting cultivation. Close to Itanagar too there were lot of fires; when interviewed on radio, the forest department kept saying people out there who go for picnic and throw their lit ciggarettes are mostly to blame. They have to be sure that they put off their ciggarettes.

No one goes there for a picnic, all the beer-drinkers and ciggarette-smokers are right here in town. The folks cultivating in these forests are also people who have come from other districts, attracted to the place since its closer to a town. This kind of cultivation is very very different from that practised in remote villages in arunachal. While in remote village, people let a cultivated patch recover for almost a decade, here its mostly 4-5 years before a patch is recultivated.

Anyways, the point is the other day we took a walk in these forests and saw a big tree fallen on the ground with quite a few orchids still clinging on. So my friend took two of them and I took one. When we returned we put them in buckets with moist sand and within few days the orchid i brought looked healthy. Then, we put it on a mango tree and tied it up and now about two weeks later, its flowering! Beautiful, take a look...

Gone fishing (nocturnal version)

One night in Itanagar, after we were on high spirits after some rum, we figured we had no curry to eat with rice. Tamang da who was with us immediately said that night is the best time to fish. Just before we left, we had discussions about river-ghosts, the ones that pick up fish from nets setup by the village people in the river. God alone knows if they are referring to otters or some other animal. Anyway, it was 12 am by the time we left and the river was actually shining with starlight. So the net was belted out in the Senkhi stream and in about ten times we got quite a lot of fish by 2 am. Like the last time, we were dropping back the kid-fish into the river; the ones too small. Here’s the catch… 

Rains reign

In the Upper Siang district, it rains more than four metres a year...and there wasn't a month without rain in the last year i visited. Often its depressing if I have planned out some work already. But if you are carrying no perishable equipment, then its fun jumping in.

So this time it happened like this, from Jengging I had to reach the Bomdo village and the monsoon has already struck here and it started raining. I remember reading in a John Steinbeck book about this character who could describe ten or more different kinds of rain and he found all of them irritating. Well, theres only one kind of rain here; hard rain which takes breaks to drizzle before it brings along a landslide and a roadblock. But I am quitting my institute presently and had to get back few equipment to return to the institute to get the 'no due' certificate and had to give things like a radio and few cds to some of the villagers. So I waited two days, no break in the rain.

Then morning before yesterday's we left...rain or no rain, gotto finish this thing. 10 am we left on a bike from jengging and rode continuously for three hours to get to Bomdo, 70 km away. Once I reached the place, my friend Gekut quickly made some pop corn and tea. The thing about riding in rain is that one is fine till the point he stops.  The time when we stopped at the village I shivered like the richter scale was at 7 or something! At one point I had to pee (locally referred to as 'minus'!) and my hands were too numb to even feel the trouser button, was a struggle! Next stop Ramsing village 30 km on the way back. The home that I reached I asked for some rice wine to warm us up and then headed back to jengging to reach at 6 pm. Got back, took a hot water bath and all the good things followed as mentioned in the blog post before this.

Oh before I finish, I spent one day photographing waterdrops; this is the best thing you can do when its raining continuously and better still if you have a 500 mm lens...here's the output...

An ode to Jenging

I call it the 'Holiday inn' of Upper Siang district. More than once I have reached this place late in the night in freezing cold. Another time I reached the place after riding for 70 km on a bike which gave me little trouble; the back tyre got punctured, the kicker broke, petrol got over and the engine wouldnt just start a couple times. Every time I reach the Circuit house in Jenging, a hot water bath, a superb meal, a warm bed, electricity to charge batteries and signal to make calls await me. To add to this, the person in-charge is a sweet Nepali person, who seems to know each time I hog a lot that I havent eaten too well in the last week.

So, this time too when I reached the place after riding in rain for 140 km for six hours, I was in heaven, with few pegs of whiskey to go with of course! I wrote an ode...after many many years...served with few pictures for flavour...

'Sweet memories of Jenging

In the morning, sunlight lazily pierces through the valley to cause a delayed dawn

and birds eagerly pick up their early worms and ripe fruits

The streams tirelessly produce their perennial soothing sound

and I meet an occasional local picking up leaves and certain roots

In the night, the giant mountains morph into silent ghosts

and clouds tonight have ushered the stars

A distant frog is muttering sweet little turrings to his potential mate

and the night as usual in my memory leaves pleasant scars

Three hills away I see a bike spiralling down the road

An occasional owl calls a high-pitched teewoo

As i get back to my warm bed content after a sumptous meal

Here's another place in the north-east India I wont forget too'

Now…that’s something to blog about

I met a granny in the village Bomdo this time who has walked to Tibet! She along with another fifteen people walked for 12 days to reach what they call ‘Mimet’ around the year 1950. The walk was mainly for bringing back salt although various other barters would take place, I have listed here few…rice and rice beer were exchanged for wheat powder or salt. The exchange rate was pretty simple; 1 cup rice beer fetches one fist amount of wheat powder or a cup of salt. Various other things that were exchanged were bamboo combs and other artefacts and ginger for Dao (a knife), wool and certain fruits. Granny very enthusiastically brought this spin that’s at least 60 years old and posed for the picture to depict how they extract thread to make clothes.

Other interesting facts were that people with heavy bags were invited to rich homes whereas people with light bags were invited to poor homes. Naturally people carried a lot of weight and granny told me people would carry about 50 – 60 kilos! The other strange thing about the trip is that people who die on the way are not brought back. And whatever happens on the way the group is all the time happily singing and walking.

So, basically people from Bomdo village were walking at least a distance of 150 km and more through tough terrain full of forests and snow near the Indo-Tibet border to bring back salt and knives. I already knew that Adi people are physically tough but now I just think they are from the planet Kryptos!

Headhunters’ ball – Reyee Gaye

The ‘Aran’ puja was on this time when I reached Ramsing village. Reyee Gaye dance was the feature that interested me; I reached the place outside the Naamghar (a large hall in the village where all group activities take place) in the evening where the young as well as old experienced men would do the war-dance, a practice continuing for hundreds of years. Bit of background…Adis were headhunters even just a century back, intense conflicts amongst sub-tribes of Adis existed although they are all at peace now. The headhunters would all gather in the Naamghar with their sheaths and knives and leave for the war

As good rock shows and concerts, folks did come out late and the light was low, but I got few pictures; because of the low light it seems like the men are shaking vigorously but they really are on a slow four-by-four beat with “huh huh huh huh” while heavily thumping the ground. You really have to be there to know that this indeed is ‘war’ dance; the air is full of dominance and a display of strength. Notice the camouflage with leaves and bamboo, the knife carried is called Yoxa and the sheath is called Tamkum, though it looks a bit weak, it’s made of bamboo and reinforced with cane knittings and a knife cannot make through it with one stroke. The Yoxa that one of the men carried while dancing was the actual one used many decades back for head-hunting. Now, of course the dance is a cultural event every year and the practice of headhunting has phased out.