Into the Indian Unknown

Bordering Bhutan and Burma, and still part-claimed by China, Arunachal Pradesh feels far removed from the rest of India – and offers an alternative cultural Himalayan adventure

“It’s India – but not as you know it.” My travel companion had never heard of Arunachal Pradesh and I was trying to coax him into joining me on a visit.

“It’s India’s least-known state,” I badgered. “And its name means land of the dawn-lit mountains’…” That must have worked. A month later the two of us were bumping through Assam, bound for the Arunachal border. Uday, our guide, was armed with a sheaf of ‘Protected Area Permits’ to be checked over the next two weeks. These PAPs had already been circulated to 18 officials, including various commissioners and army intelligence personnel. Yet, at the border itself, our credentials were quickly logged in a ledger with little formality or fanfare, and we were simply waved on through.

Arunachal feels like India’s final frontier. Rugged and remote, much of it thickly forested and thinly populated, it shares borders with Bhutan, Tibet and Burma. China still claims a huge portion as part of Tibet and it was through here that the Dalai Lama fled his homeland in 1959.

A mix of tribes makes it a linguistic hotspot and, while the roads require patience and stamina, they offer some spectacular journeys.

Rules of the road

We began our own journey juddering alongside the Kameng River heading for Tawang Monastery, high in the Himalaya – one of Arunachal’s highlights. In the following two days there was barely a stretch of straight or level road. Valleys divided, forked and then disappeared amid the cloud that often cloaked the ridge tops.

A long climb to lofty Bomdila town was succeeded by an equally prolonged descent to Old Dirang where a squat medieval tower still looms over the feudal part-fortified village. Beyond here lies Tawang District, which is all but barricaded by sheer peaks notched by the 4,170m Se La pass. It’s a bracing, often rutted road to the top, sprinkled with cautionary road signs such as ‘Better Mr Late than late Mr’. Marked by a decorative Buddhist-styled archway, we paused at the desolate pass for noodle soup, tea and a quick walk by a pair of icy grey tarns.

Heading down towards the treeline, an army sign urges visitors to pay homage’ at Jaswant Garh. It’s a touching yet bizarre memorial to an Indian soldier who briefly halted the Chinese advance during their short conflict in 1962. After friendly soldiers offered us yet more tea, we visited the shrine-like enclosure where his bed is made daily. Letters still arrive addressed to him; placed unopened by his bedside in the evening, they’re mysteriously opened by morning. Beside old bunkers stand a few hoardings with war photographs – one of a Chinese soldier is captioned: ‘Remember even he died for his country’.

Holy highs

From barren to bountiful, the road plunged deep into the yawning Tawang Valley and the heartland of the Monpa ethnic group. On clear days you can just about discern the pale distant outline of Tawang Monastery while Gorichen – one of Arunachal’s highest peaks, bordering Tibet – soars to the east at the valley’s head. Dozens of elongated switchbacks eventually saw us down to the river, across a single-lane bridge festooned with prayer flags and then up the northern slopes to reach Tawang.

High above the valley floor, Tawang is a workaday place of mostly low, functional buildings, a practical bazaar and neat army quarters. Its great monastery, built in the 1640s and perched on a hillside spur, dominates the town almost like a fortress. Three centuries ago, Bhutan was the Monpas’ enemy, and medieval bullet holes allegedly pepper some of the monastery’s outer walls. We stepped through its fortified right-angled gateway and into a cluster of narrow lanes lined with simple houses, occupied by many of Tawang s 430 monks.

Fronted by a flagstone courtyard, the Dukhang, or assembly hall, stands at the heart of the complex. Early most mornings it’s a hive of monks and novices but now it was still and silent. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I saw its walls swirled with murals of saints, divinities and Buddhist mythology. The main altar was a medley of statuary, richly decorated brocade, white ceremonial scarves and thangka scroll paintings, all dominated by a 7.5111-high gleaming Buddha statue.

I got chatting to an elderly monk who outlined the monastery’s history; he told me how its perimeter was determined by a ball of yarn given by the fifth Dalai Lama. Back in 1959, the young, exhausted 14th Dalai Lama rested here for a few days when fleeing from Tibet. “His Holiness has since returned a few times,” he continued, “and in 2009 he consecrated our museum.”

The museum, a simple room in a modern building, stands beside the main courtyard. Labelled in English and Tibetan, its display cases hold an array of jewellery and strange relics including a trumpet made from a human thigh bone, a skull cup and the sixth Dalai Lama’s thunderbolt sceptre. “The sixth, you know, was born in Tawang three centuries ago,” explained the monk, underlining how for centuries this was a notable outpost of the Tibetan world. That reincarnation could, of course, happen here again.

From Tawang, you can easily walk in the surrounding hills and pause at a couple of small nunneries. But the stand-out trip is to nearby Seru village with its imposing tower-like Monpa houses and dinky water-turned prayer wheels. Further down the Tawang Valley and just shy of the Bhutanese border, another spectacular road heads north by the Nyamjang River to Zemithang and on into Tibet. Just below Zemithang, the huge whitewashed Gorsam stupa bears a striking resemblance to Kathmandu’s Swayambhunath, its all-seeing Buddha eyes gazing like sentinels across the pretty, steep-sided valley.

The ethnic experience

Three days later we pulled into Itanagar, Arunachal’s bustling subtropical low-rise state capital. We’d come less out of desire than convenience. Yet Uday insisted we drop by the Jawaharlal Nehru State Museum and it proved an unexpectedly worthwhile introduction to Arunachal’s great tribal belt.

India officially recognises at least 12 main ‘Scheduled Tribes’ in Arunachal, comprising about 70% of its population. Yet in the museums large hall I counted 27 distinct sets of mannequins, each depicting a tribal group. All wore traditional clothes while painted backdrops evoked their typical milieu. Upstairs were decent displays of their utensils and weapons, and everything from their penis gourds to their ear plugs. We’d already met the Monpas and fleetingly seen Sherdukpens; here were more groups with enigmatic names: Tagin, Galo and Mishing, Wancho, Memba and Nocte.

Yet these displays are a memorial, too. Today, in all but the remotest parts of Arunachal, the tribes’ distinctive dress is fading; with mobility and modernisation, their cultures are gradually homogenising. Even the word ‘tribe’ seems loaded with skewed connotations suggesting primitiveness or wildness. The ethnic experience’, as 1 came to regard it, was proving more subtle than I imagined – a good guide was invaluable.

Playing dress-up

Next morning as we weaved through the hills north-east of ltanagar, Uday announced we were in Nyishi country. Huts of matted cane and bamboo stood on cement piles; the longer huts, he told us, indicated multiple wives. The Nyishi used to be known as warriors with a penchant for stealing the women of the nearby Apatani people.

That’s all history now and, said Uday, even in the past ten years the daily wearing of traditional garments has noticeably diminished.

We strolled through a Nyishi hamlet and paused by a hut where he began chatting to a young woman. Asha Tago was 19 and looking after her young niece while her family weeded a nearby pineapple field. Within minutes we all sat cross-legged inside her home where rectangular hanging frames – for utensils and curing meat – hung over a central hearth of packed earth. There were just two other rooms: a tiny kitchen and a dressing-room cubicle.

Uday and Asha chatted in Hindi: she liked fashion design, there might be a chance to reach Chennai to study… but there were always village chores, she was always busy. Minutes later she left the room, before emerging, beaming. “Now, like everyone, I only wear these for festivals or special days,” she said. She wore a plain cream cotton gown, with beaded necklaces and a sash of hat-shaped silver-alloy roundels. Her headband combined turquoise beads and cigarette-sized alloy cylinders. It was simple yet very pretty. And we’d unwittingly slipped into a kind of voyeurism only slightly offset by her enthusiasm.

It was hard now to imagine a culture of raiding and women- stealing, of pillaging and skirmishes over what superstitious villagers once called ‘sickness-carrying’. The countryside was muscular yet picturesque, villages appeared sleepy and tranquil, and people were open and friendly. Yet pre-Independence reports show authorities vexed by tribal raids, slavery and trade-hindering blockades; often they were simply perplexed by the vast and difficult terrain.

Times a-changin’

One group that the early 20th-century authorities found particularly easy-going was the Apatani. It was a lovely yo-yoing drive up over Joram Top and down into the tribe’s secluded 35 sq km plateau. Cradled by pine-clad hills and glazed with rice paddies that uniquely double as fish ponds, the modestly prosperous Ziro Valley epitomises a rural idyll.

We began a full day’s exploration at Hong village with local guide Chada. Some neighbouring people knew the Apatani simply as the ‘tattooed’, he told us. Traditionally Apatani women bore facial tattoos and chunky nose-plugs to make themselves less attractive to those Nyishi raiders. “Most tattooing stopped 30 years ago,” Chada explained. As local youths headed down to Assam and beyond for more education, many girls and young women had been teased and laughed at. The practice had now virtually died out.

“But it wasn’t just stealing women,” he said. “We weaved cloth for [the Nyishi], and got paid with piglets. Also, they’d keep an eye on our roaming mithun.” Mithun? The semi-domesticated Indian bison, better known as gaur or gayal, which had long been a measure of wealth.

Hong was a microcosm of the Apatani world. With around 500 families, each of its four clans had their own low wooden ceremonial platform. Slender lanes fenced with bamboo poles threaded among cheek-by-jowl wood-and-bamboo houses. Most now had iron roofs – barely two decades ago dried grass was the norm – and villagers still proudly stacked their mithun horns, offered during ceremonies.

Many front yards bristled with masts that represented families’ boy children – doubling as fertility symbols. There were arcane little totems of matted bamboo to ward off spirits, part of the Donyi-Polo, or sun-moon, animist religion. “Most young people don’t believe in those now,” said Chada, though many homes were still flying the white Donyi-Polo flag with its red sea urchin-like motif.

Then we saw a prominent poster advertising a ‘Spring Healing Crusade’. “Missionaries,” Chada continued, “are very active here, coming mostly from Nagaland.” Since Itanagar we’d noticed numerous signs for ‘Nagaland tutors’ and Baptist- and Don Bosco- run schools. Chada reckoned everyone here got on well and that missionary activity had curbed excessive drinking among local men.

Later that day we admired the valley from atop a hillock overlooking a disused airstrip and then walked among the paddies as villagers planted seedlings. We came upon a group of old men chanting with an eerie stumbling cadence, almost like a skipping CD. They wore black plant-fibre wigs and mantles, and smoked rustic bamboo pipes.

“Shamans,” announced Chada, “praying for crops and water and to protect paddy dams.” Even as they offered us Pepsi, they were planning to sacrifice a couple of chickens – maybe a dog, too. “The dog’s for your safe journey!” Chada joked as we headed back to our hotel. What about the Pepsi? “That’s just modern: Arunachal is changing fast!”

Arunachal Pradesh, India Footnotes

Vital Statistics

State capital: Itanagar

State population: 1.4 million

Language: Hindi, English, other Arunchali languages

Time: GMT+5.5

International dialling code: +91

Money: Indian rupee (Rs). Arunachal has some ATMs but it’s better to rely on cash.

When to Go:

December – January – February: Bitterly cold at Tawang; the Se La pass might close temporarily after snowfall; most of the rest of Arunachal is fairly dry and sunny with cool nights.

March – April / October – November: Ideal months for Arunachal: warm-to-hot days; note, Tawang is always chilly at night and often cool during the day.

May – September: Monsoon season. Frequent torrential rain causes landslides and road blockages, travel is often unpredictable.

Health & safety. The usual vaccinations are advisable. There is a moderate risk of altitude sickness crossing the Se La Pass and at Tawang. Those prone to carsickness should think carefully before visiting.

Getting there: The best gateway cities for accessing Arunachal are Guwahati (daily flights from Delhi [3hrs] and Kolkata [1hr]), Tezpur (non-daily flights from Kolkata [2hrs]) and Dlbrugarh (daily flights to Delhi [4hrs] and Kolkata [1.5hrs]), all in the neighbouring state of Assam.

Alternatively, trains link Guwahati to Delhi (around 27hrs) and Kolkata (18hrs). There are no border crossings into Arunachal to/from Bhutan, Tibet or Burma for foreign tourists.

Getting around: Private car is by far the most comfortable, flexible and efficient way to travel; a 4WD is not strictly necessary. Slow public buses link most places; shared taxis run some routes. Note, there are lots of winding mountain roads.

A helicopter service has resumed flying some routes after being suspended in 2011 after several accidents. Treat with caution.

Accommodation. Arunachal has relatively few hotels. Most offer simple rooms with bathrooms. Prices are slightly higher than equivalents elsewhere in India; standard doubles typically range from Rs1,300 to Rs2,000 with so-called deluxe options costing between 50-100% more.

Food & drink. Indian and quasi-Chinese food are the most likely offerings in the limited eateries, though in Tawang and Itanagar you can find Tibetan-style momos. Most visitors tend to eat in their hotels, which usually have attached restaurants. Local hospitality often includes apong, a mild country home-brew made from rice.

Permits & itineraries. In addition to a valid Indian visa, all foreign visitors to Arunachal must obtain a Protected Area Permit (PAP; US$50pp) through a locally recognised tour operator. Travellers must be in a ‘group’ of at least two people and travel on the prescribed tourist ‘circuits’ or itineraries – these sound restrictive but in reality cover more than most visitors would have the time/inclination to see.

Highlights:

1. Tawang: Great drive to remote monastery town near Tibet and Bhutan.
2. Nyamjang Valley & Zemithang: Picturesque valley with Monpa hamlets and Gorsam stupa.
3. Itanagar: The city’s Jawaharlal Nehru State Museum gives a good tribal overview.
4. Ziro Valley: Charming and picturesque valley, home to the Apatani tribe.
5. Along: Explore nearby Galo villages, especially in the pretty Siyom River Valley.
6. Mechuka: Remote outpost near Tibet in a lovely valley with Memba tribespeople.
7. Slang/Brahmaputra River: Sweeping down from Tibet, you can track the great river en route to Pasighat.
8. Namdapha National Park: One of India’s largest protected areas, covering an expanse of evergreen forest in the Eastern Himalaya.