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.

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

Between rice and millet beer

This time I had reached the entrance to the northernmost national park in the north-east, the Mouling National park. Mouling in local Adi means red blood that signifies one of the tree species found in the park that has red latex. The villagers and department officials have horrid stories of people being bitten by poisonous snakes, chased by pythons, etc. etc. and I was getting more and more excited! The park is remote and few surveys have been undertaken by the Forest Department and a single herpetofaunal survey in 2002 by Samrat Pawar. However the two days I spent were outside the national park discussing with the villagers about shifting cultivation. A hunting festival was on in the village during my visit; each Adi (the local tribe) hunts as many animals as he can and gifts the meat to his in-laws. During an evening rice-beer session with the Adis, the village leader invited me over to his house for some millet beer, so went, happily. Soon as I got to his home, I saw skulls of many wild animals, amongst the ones I could recognize; few monkeys, few barking deers and many wild boar. Then I was offered millet beer and was slightly tipsy already!

Then, the gaam leader brought a monkey and kept it in front of me; I was startled but quickly gathered myself and tried to identify the species. I was hoping it wasn’t one of the rarer species such as pig-tailed, stump-tailed or assamese macaques and was glad it wasn’t one of them. It was a rhesus macaque male. The next thing the Miok (the leader, in Adi) dunked the body in fire and slowly roasted the monkey part by part. I was shocked but was trying to remain calm and kept swigging the beer. I soon figured I was invited actually to taste the meat and I admittedly told the leader that I can’t eat it because it looks too much like a human and he obliged me by not forcing further.

Later we got back to the ramsing camp and cooked our meal and slept. This memory will remain fresh in my mind. This trip was made without a camera but for me it didn’t seem like I need one!