The trip to understanding the misty lands

What comes to your mind when you think of the first travelogue you have ever read? For me, it was a lot of condescension, and a display of superiority which now I think as Naivety and bluster, fit to impress only an innocent 5 year old, whom I was then. My first experience of reading Travelogues was at that early age in my mother tongue Tamil. Written by some of the popular writers of those times who always bragged about their visits to Europe and the West, in an effort to impress the masses who did not have means to travel themselves.

Later years, as I grew up and started travelling to all those places, I realised how shallow their narratives were. By then, my reading had expanded into much deeper subjects and I wanted to see more from a travelogue. Particularly, I wanted Travelogues to provide me with historical background on behavioural aspects of the people and the culture of the places I read about.

All the while I was looking at places outside my Country, thinking those are the places I knew little about.

Oh how wrong I was, I realized, when I started reading Samrat choudhury’s “The Braided River”, a Travelogue along the Path of Brahmaputra. That is when I also realized the lack of my understanding about cultures and people in my own country. This lack of understanding is not singular, but something I share with most of my countrymen, particularly so in the southern part where I hail from.

The picture of the North east most of us have is all about the Lush green mountain Valleys, gushing mountain streams and an air of mystery that rhymes with the misty photos of the mountains we see.

Particularly during these troubled times, that lack of understanding has been prevalently used up by the motivated sides to set narratives that are being lapped up by the larger population and is dividing the nation slowly but surely.

When I started reading this book, slowly those mists started lifting up for me. The book, a slow starter nevertheless, is a painstaking effort in not just narration of strange landscapes and customs, but a more elaborate effort in providing a peek at the cultures, their histories, their current state and their political and actual realities.

The author stays true to his stated objective all along the book with just a dose of natural, dry, easy air of joviality that does not divert the focus from the grim facts and simple people.

“𝐺𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓𝑓 𝑜𝑛 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑦 𝑟𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑑. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑢𝑝 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙.”

“𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜, 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑑, 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑛𝑜. 𝑆𝑜 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 – 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑖𝑛.”

“𝑁𝑒𝑤 𝑗𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑦, 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑖𝑚.”

“𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑, 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝐷𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑎 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑜𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑁𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒. 𝐼𝑡’𝑠 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑒 – 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒. 𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑙𝑙, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑡, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡.”

The first false notion that the book expels is about the river as a singular entity. As we move forward we understand the full gravity of the name “Braided river” that displays the multiple tributaries and distributaries that at times are completely different from other siblings, just as the people along the shores are.

“𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝐷𝑖𝑏𝑟𝑢 𝑆𝑎𝑖𝑘ℎ𝑜𝑤𝑎 𝑖𝑛 𝐴𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑚 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑔 (𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝐷𝑖ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔), 𝐿𝑜ℎ𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐷𝑖𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑔, 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑎ℎ𝑚𝑎𝑝𝑢𝑡𝑟𝑎.”

“𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑆𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑔, 𝐿𝑜ℎ𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐷𝑖𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑎 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑, 𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑙𝑦 35 𝑘𝑚 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 10 𝑘𝑚 𝑤𝑖𝑑𝑒, 𝑜𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑑𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑎ℎ𝑚𝑎𝑝𝑢𝑡𝑟𝑎.”

“𝐻𝑦𝑑𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑡 𝑎 ‘𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟’. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑚 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑎ℎ𝑚𝑎𝑝𝑢𝑡𝑟𝑎, 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑎 𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑘, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒. 𝐵𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑢𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑎 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑙 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑡. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑢𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚 𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑠, 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑏𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑓𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑛𝑖𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑.”

“𝐼𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑑. 𝑊𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑐𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑜 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑑𝑠, 𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑎 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑠, 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑠, 𝑔𝑜𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑟𝑖𝑐ℎ, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 – 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑖𝑟, 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝑆𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑓𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡’𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠: 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑇𝑉 𝑛𝑒𝑤𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒, 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑜𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑝ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠.”

The politics of the countries that these bands of river pass through is so much mired in past historical acts of errors, intentional and unintentional.

“𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑔𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑐𝑀𝑎ℎ𝑜𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠. 𝐼𝑛 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑝𝑠, 𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑙𝑦 83,000 𝑠𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑎ℎ𝑚𝑎𝑝𝑢𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝐴𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑙 𝑃𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑠ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐴𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑚 𝑖𝑠 ‘𝑆𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑛 𝑇𝑖𝑏𝑒𝑡’.”

“𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠, ℎ𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑎ℎ𝑚𝑎𝑝𝑢𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑜𝑟 𝑆𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑦. 𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑢𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑐𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑜𝑟𝑦. 𝐼𝑛 𝐷𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 2017, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐼𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑖𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑦. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑛, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑢𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙, 𝑠𝑢𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑛 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑎. ‘𝐼𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑏𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑙 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑡 𝐵𝑟𝑎ℎ𝑚𝑎𝑝𝑢𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑡,’ 𝑎 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛 𝐼𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑃𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡, 𝑏𝑦 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑙 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑉𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑦𝑎𝑘 𝐵ℎ𝑎𝑡, 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ‘𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑑𝑎𝑚 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑎ℎ𝑚𝑎𝑝𝑢𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟 – 𝑌𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑇𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑝𝑜 𝑖𝑛 𝑇𝑖𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑛 – 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑙𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑒.’ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ‘𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑗𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑎ℎ𝑚𝑎𝑝𝑢𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑇𝑎𝑘𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑎𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑡,’ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑. 𝐻𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑔. ‘𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑦𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑑ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑗𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑎 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑑𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑚,’ ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝐻𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑤, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠, 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑏𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑓𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝐼𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑎.”

“𝑆𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑠𝑢𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝐴𝑠𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐼𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑐 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑆𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑆𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐸𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝐴𝑠𝑖𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑡. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ-𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑇𝑖𝑏𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐻𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑠. 𝐴𝑙𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑇𝑖𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑛 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑠 1951, 𝑇𝑖𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑖 𝐿𝑎𝑚𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑦’𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑎 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑃𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝐴𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝐵𝑒𝑖𝑗𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑣𝑖𝑎 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑒 – 𝑏𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑎𝑖 𝑡𝑜 𝐾𝑜𝑙𝑘𝑎𝑡𝑎 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑆𝑖𝑘𝑘𝑖𝑚 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑇𝑖𝑏𝑒𝑡 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘.25 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑛𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑢𝑠𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠.”

The book also recounts the wildlife along the path that we have rarely heard of and has a lot of surprises packed for naturalists and photographers.

“𝐷𝑖𝑏𝑟𝑢 𝑆𝑎𝑖𝑘ℎ𝑜𝑤𝑎 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑛ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑠, 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑝ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠.”

“𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑒𝑠, 𝑎 𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 3,400 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑜 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑗𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑝𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ‘𝑏𝑖𝑔 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒’ 𝑏𝑦 ℎ𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝐴𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑎, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑝ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑡, 𝑟ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑑. 𝐼𝑛 𝐼𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑎, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑏𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑔 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑜, 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑡𝑜𝑛, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟 𝐴𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑝𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑜.”

As we meander along the Arunachal and Assam, the demographic pastel along with the dismal public facility is striking and revealing

“𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑦𝑠𝑓𝑢𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝐴𝑇𝑀𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑢𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑛. 𝐼 𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑎, 𝐻𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑢 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒, 𝐵𝑢𝑑𝑑ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒, 𝐷𝑜𝑛𝑦𝑖 𝑃𝑜𝑙𝑜 𝑉𝑖𝑑𝑦𝑎 𝑁𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐺𝑜𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑆𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑖 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐵ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑡 𝑀𝑎𝑡𝑎 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑣𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠.”

“𝐷𝑜𝑛𝑦𝑖 𝑃𝑜𝑙𝑜 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐴𝑑𝑖𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑒𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠.”

More than anything, how the political cauldron is being stirred up by the right wing narratives set by their omni-present operatives are huge revelations.

“𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐴𝑑𝑖 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝐴𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑢𝑠𝑠𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑣𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑠 𝐼𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑅𝑆𝑆, 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝐻𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑢 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑦𝑡𝑖𝑧𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑀𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐶ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑎𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐻𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑑.”

The heart of the matter is, how we often tend to think of the northwest in a very wishy-washy way… the fact is, every group there is not “purely” indigenous to that geography. Also the history of Ahoms which was much invisible to history of India until the Sangh appropriated it to suit its narrative is a chequered one. Longest dynasty in Indian history, whose first genesis started by those who came from Yunnan in China is a tale to behold. The fact that those who were of animistic faith and were given “Hindu” identity by Bengali Brahminic onslaught is a typical Indian story.

What is striking and pertinent to understand is that the land we are looking at, has people who are rarely “completely indigenous” to the land they inhabit as is peddled today.

“𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐴ℎ𝑜𝑚 𝑑𝑦𝑛𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑎 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑝 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑀𝑦𝑎𝑛𝑚𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑑𝑗𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑌𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑎𝑛 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑎. 𝐴 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑆𝑖𝑢 𝐾𝑎 𝑃ℎ𝑎 𝑜𝑟 𝑆𝑢𝑘𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑚𝑖𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑗𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛𝑡ℎ 𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑦.”

“𝑇𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦, 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛. 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑢𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐴ℎ𝑜𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑠, 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝐻𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑦, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑎𝑙 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑠, 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑀𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑣𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛; 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑠, 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎 𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑎𝑙 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑎 𝐻𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑢 𝑅𝑎𝑗𝑝𝑢𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑀𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑚 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐴ℎ𝑜𝑚 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑡 𝑘𝑒𝑦 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠. 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚, 𝐵𝑎𝑔ℎ 𝐻𝑎𝑧𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑘𝑎 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑠 𝐼𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑙 𝑆𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑞𝑢𝑒, 𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑆𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑎𝑡. 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒, 𝐵𝑎𝑔ℎ 𝐻𝑎𝑧𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑘𝑎, 𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎 𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑙𝑒. 𝐻𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 ‘𝐵𝑎𝑔ℎ’, 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑟, 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐻𝑎𝑧𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑘𝑎 𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐴ℎ𝑜𝑚 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑖𝑛 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 1,000 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑠..”

“𝐴𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑒 ‘𝑗𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑦𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑑𝑖’ 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑢𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑠. 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚, 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝐴ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑠. 𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐴𝑥𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑦𝑎𝑠, 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐴𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐴𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑖𝑙, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑠, 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡. 𝑇𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑃𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑔𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑦 – 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑎𝑙 𝑛𝑎𝑣𝑦 – 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑠 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑙, 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑎 𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑒; 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝐵𝑜𝑔𝑎 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑠, 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑠, 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐴ℎ𝑜𝑚 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑑𝑜𝑚’𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑦. 𝐿𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑙 ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑒𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ, 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑔𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡 ‘𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟’ 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠; 𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐽𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑎, 𝐵𝑜𝑑𝑜, 𝐾𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑖, 𝑁𝑎𝑔𝑎, 𝐴𝑑𝑖 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑟ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝐴𝑥𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑦𝑎𝑠, 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑅𝑎𝑗𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑅𝑎𝑚 𝑆𝑖𝑛𝑔ℎ 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝐽𝑎𝑖𝑝𝑢𝑟, 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑎𝑙 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝐴𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑚 𝑜𝑛 𝐴𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑧𝑒𝑏’𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝐼𝑠𝑓𝑎ℎ𝑎𝑛, 𝑀𝑖𝑟 𝐽𝑢𝑚𝑙𝑎, 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛; 𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒, 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝐿𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑚 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑖 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑, 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝐵𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑠ℎ 𝑖𝑛 1971, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐵𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑠. 𝐹𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝐵𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝐴𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑧𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑥𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑛𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑑𝑜𝑚𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑛𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑆𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝐴𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐵𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑖 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑠, 𝑜𝑟 𝐻𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑀𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑠”

“𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑤, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑡 𝐾𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑘ℎ𝑦𝑎. 𝐻𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑚 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑛 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑜𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑒, 𝐸𝑔𝑦𝑝𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑎 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐴𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑎, 𝑀𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑐𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑆𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑎 … 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑. 𝐻𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑚 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑖𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝐻𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑚 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡 𝐵𝑟𝑎ℎ𝑚𝑖𝑛–𝐵𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑦𝑎 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑠, 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑒, 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 ‘𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝’ 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛, 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑘𝑡𝑎.”

The compelling fact that the book brings out is that, Microcosm of every issue that ails India is in the north east.

In the end the mist that surrounded our perception about the North East is slowly dispelled. But I am not sure that I like the scene that is revealed anymore. However the Important thing is that we climb down from the dreamy land that we have in our imaginations and realize we have a responsibility to the lands that we claim as part of the nation and to the people we call our brethren.