My tryst with Brahmaputra began way back in 2002. It was the first time when very early in my career as an Army officer, I was posted to the Northeast. As a young Captain, I joined a battalion of the prestigious paramilitary force Assam Rifles deployed in the Lohit and Dibang valleys of Arunachal Padesh. Then on in a career spanning over 23 years I had the opportunity of visiting Assam and the rest of the northeast several times, experiences which I treasure even today with lots of fondness.
Over repeated rendezvous with the mighty river I had realized that Brahmaputra was not a mere waterway, rather it’s a concept, an entity and cradle of life for the entire population of Northeast. It remained associated with history, mythology and culture of the region since time immemorial. The waves of the river signified the eternal flow of life and sustenance for all living beings.
So, it was a mid-October afternoon in 2002, when the pleasant blue and white skies of the autumn had started giving way to the pristine blue firmament of the advancing winters, I had landed at the Mohanbari airport in Dibrugarh. My journey would take me further to the extreme eastern part of the country across Brahmaputra into the blue shadowy mountain ranges which I could see towering in the horizon alluring me with a mystic charm.
As I travelled from the airport to a small settlement called Rupai on the banks of Brahmaputra I could not but fall in love with Assam. The undulating roads often traversed through tea gardens with a metre gauge rail line keeping company all along. The canvas of the horizon displayed beautiful landscapes comprising of mountains and forests. The aroma of the raw tea leaves permeated the air refreshing the lungs and the mind. There was a flavour of happiness and serenity that prevailed all around. There was so little actually to be happy about compared to the life in cities but so much happiness exuded in the people of these small hamlets. The canvas of life was painted with small houses, tea shops or grocery stores, people loitering around in colourful dresses or sitting huddled in a bunch talking about daily chores. I had stepped out of our guestrooms for a call to my house from a STD booth across the road and observed that there was no rush or din and bustle as life continued in a laidback manner under a luminous starry sky. I had stared up and was mesmerized by the sheen of the night sky visible through canopy of tree leaves. All stars and constellations cast their silvery luminance for miles till the horizon, interacting with each other through twinkles and laying out milky white pathways for travel of heavenly beings, it had appeared so to me.
I had stayed for a night in Rupai and next day morning I found myself on the banks of the majestic Brahmaputra at Saikhowa Ghat. My journey would take me across the river to Sadiya and further across few tributaries of Brahmaputra to the foothills of the Himalayas.
I still remember the awe with which I had stood on the banks of the mighty Brahmaputra setting my eyes on the fabled river for the very first time. The river was extremely wide at that place fed in by Lohit, Dibang and Siang. While it’s believed that Siang which flows as Tsang Po in Tibet is the mainstream of Brahmaputra there are quite a few mighty rivers which flow from the Tibetan Highlands into the Brahmaputra making it assume humongous proportions.
All I could see was a calm bluish-white mass of water moving at a gentle pace carrying steamers and boats on its bosom. Kites, storks, herons and many other migratory birds crossed each other’s paths, flying over the flowing water looking for their sustenance in the ecology. I had never seen any river as wide as this and I was told that the volume of water during the monsoons would increase several times. Later I would have the frightening experience of crossing the Lohit and Brahmaputra on steamers during monsoon and the astonishing force with which the rivers streamed, roaring and tossing enormous tree branches and logs, was a terrifying exhibition of raw untamed Himalayan energy.
My head had bowed in reverence in front of the great river. My mind travelled several leagues back and forth in time trying to image the times that the waves of the river had been witness to. From the ancient times of Narakasura whose capital was Pragjyotishpur (the present-day Guwahati region) to the later times of the Varmans, Palas, Ahoms and Koch the river had contributed enormously to flourishing lives of people. Many races had followed the river upstream and then settled down along the banks raising dynasties. Times changed but the only constant that remained was the prodigious river.
The riverbanks teemed with life. During several trips across the river, I had found the ferry ghats to be a kaleidoscope of activities. There were so many things going on at the same time. From temporary shelters selling Rice and Fish curry to merchants squatting on the sands and yelling at the top of their voices to sell their merchandise which comprised of bamboo artifacts, wooden toys, garments, vegetables and daily utility stuffs. A steady stream of people in different attires, colours, dialects, shapes and sizes could be found strewn around the sandy stretch. While hill people would be travelling to the Assam plains and back for various requirements, people from other parts of the country would be travelling to the Arunachal hills for their jobs. I was amazed to realize that the river system actually sustained so may people providing livelihood in different ways. The boatmen from Bihar, the local Bengalis running pice hotels, the local fishermen, the Mishmi people from the foothills selling fresh vegetables, the Coolie Bangali plantation workers, Babus working in different administrative offices in Arunachal and the soldiers guarding the frontiers – all were dependent on the eternal riverine blessings of the mesmerizing Brahmaputra.
On one such trip during April I encountered a troupe of musicians and performers on the banks at Saikhowa Ghat. I could hear some musical cacophony for some time at a distance and a crowd making merriment. But as we were required to maintain strict security measures while travelling I had maintained a safe distance. I had also instructed my fellow soldiers to refrain from merging with the crowd. Suddenly a young couple dressed in festive attire approached us. They had realized that I was the leader of the body of troops. They spoke in broken Hindi and informed me that they were a local troupe from the town of Paya and they would want me to witness their dance program. I looked at the couple intently. The man sported a white Dhoti and vest. He had a red and white piece of cloth (locally called Gamossa) tied around his skull and held a percussion instrument, Dhol strapped around his neck. The woman wore a red blouse and white saree with red border which also had tiny motifs embossed on the surface. The duo had walked up to me and wanted to perform for the Fauji brothers on the occasion of the Bohag Bihu. I had heard about this dance form earlier during my student days but that day I got an opportunity to witness it live at its purest form as practiced in various villages of Assam.
I cast aside my precautionary part of the mind for some time as I really wanted to learn about the culture of the native people. I always believed that unless you get to love and respect the local traditions and culture it was almost impossible to be harbinger of peace in a troubled zone. One of the soldiers, a senior Havildar who hailed from Assam explained me the significance of the dance form. Like every other part of the country the beginning of the vernacular years was celebrated with pomp and festivity in Assam too. It also marked the start of the new crop season what in Bengal was known as “Nabanna”. As I stood mesmerized watching the performance of the troupe I realized the essence of the performance. The energetic men and women braved the hot April sun and danced enthusiastically. The music, the song and the gyrations portrayed the concept of creation. As I got fully absorbed into the rhythm of the dance I understood the deep bonding that the humanity had had with the nature since the beginning of life. As the gestures would portray a passive sense of procreation it reflected upon the creation of life by synergy of various natural elements too. So, it was a hymn or obeisance paid to the aspect of creation of life in all forms. I was really amazed how such philosophy was embedded in simple rural practices of enjoyment that could actually teach graduates from prestigious universities a lesson or two. We had paid the troupe some cash reward for enthralling us with a beautiful performance. I would later be fortunate to witness many more such performances including various tribal dance forms originating from different parts of northeast.
My service in the northeast had taken me to many remote corners. I could travel the entire Brahmaputra valley starting from upper to lower Assam. This afforded me to see the rural life of Assam very closely. I found lots of similarities with the Bengali culture. The smiling peace loving people of the region resonated with me by virtue of their warmth and hospitality.
While travelling in and around the rural Assam what amazed me the most was the simple and clean way of living. Every house, be it a concrete one or mud hut, was very neatly maintained. Each had a small garden in front or back where the people grew sundry vegetables and spices for self sustenance. The yards had nicely pruned grass or smooth mud coating appearing speckless. Kids would be found on many of them running behind pets like hens and goats while the women of the houses watched from a distance and engaged in daily chores at the same time. The fresh green creepers soaked in the morning dew would be seen climbing the bamboo fences adorned by bright florescence scattered astride. Birds, squirrels and swarm of butterflies added to the hue and tranquil sounds of the nature.
It was very heartening to observe that how the women played a very significant role in the society. On one hand they took care of the home and hearth and on the other they brushed shoulders with the males of the family in prospering the livelihoods by working on the fields, selling the produces in the local markets or running small shops in the vicinity of their houses. This participation in all walks of life seemed to a be a testimony of ample physical and mental resoluteness and a classic example of women empowerment. I had interacted with many local families in the states of Assam, Arunachal, Nagaland and Meghalaya. The warmth and hospitality that I had received was very heartening and I had never found the women to be wearing any expression of drudgery or contempt on their faces. The beautiful smiles and the twinkles in the eyes probably stemmed from the abundance that nature had showered over the region. And the eco system of Brahmaputra played a major role in that.
Another aspect that had drawn my attention was that almost all the villages in Assam had a community prayer hall called “Naam Ghar”. The bigger ones were called “Kirtan Ghar”. You could not miss these archetypal structures as you travelled in the countryside. The majestic gates at some places had arches on which two lions would be facing each other with religious frescoes adorning the walls. A tradition of neo- Vaishnavism the concept of having a community prayer hall was introduced in the 16th century by great saints like Shankar Deb, Madhab Deb and Damodar Deb. It was during this time that the wave of Bhakti movement had swept across the Brahmaputra valley. Since then, these monasteries had been the centre for spiritual discourse, cultural pursuits and community gathering in all the towns and villages. On many an occasion I felt a very pure sense of joy watching the villagers congregating at these prayer halls. Plain and simple structures surrounded by lush green foliage painted a picture of calm and serenity. I observed that the theme of the dresses worn or the colours of the buildings always had shades of white predominantly which signified purity and an astute sense of submitting oneself to the divinity. In fact the main essence of the Ekasarana spiritualism practiced largely in the state of Assam has been the unification with the Lord Himself through a very ordinary way of living.
I had three tenures in Northeast and each one of them made me fall in love with the place and the people even more from the last one. As a soldier and a human being these stints had taught me important lessons in life. It is said that the place where you reside for long and the people you see, would mature you as an individual. To me the immensity of Brahmaputra signified the horizon of one’s mind. The more your mind could stretch like the riverbed more would be the capacity to absorb wisdom of life. The gentle waves on a calm autumn day reflected on the sobriety and humbleness in a person’s nature notwithstanding the sheer volume and depth of the internal strength. The devastating floods that I had witnessed made me realize that the old had to make way for new beginnings and the cycle of life kept rotating between these two aspects. The eternal flow of Brahmaputra appealed to me as the principle of Srishti (creation), Sthiti (sustenance) and Vinash (destruction) and the continuous repetition of the wheel of the occurrence.
I tried to imbibe a lot from the simple way of life I had witnessed amongst the people of northeast. I have not seen many people deriving happiness and smile from hardships of life the way people from this region did. These happy bunch of people taught me that life was not about extravaganzas but the joy from simplicity and frugality was always meant to be far purer.
Finally, sitting amidst the din and bustle of a busy city life when I look back at the times spent in the folds of the beautiful Northeast I realize that the course of the mighty river always hinted at the sedate eternality of the soul which if actualized could sail you through life without getting too affected by the events those run past against a stationary existence.
