By WL Hangshing
Nice to be a northeasterner travelling in the northeast.
I always prided myself in my ability to place a northeasterner from a distance as to not only their state of origin but also the tribe they belonged to. At the waiting lounge at Calcutta airport, serendipity smiled upon me and I found an empty seat that happened to be next to two very pretty birds. With my chinky corner-eyed-glance, I immediately sized them up to be of a Naga tribe. Or so I thought. As my ears perked up, and radar’d on to their conversation, I realised that they were speaking my Lingo. Wah! And one of them was in fact speaking in my own accent. The eavesdrop further revealed that she was from my own hometown. So much for my Hermlock Sholmes pretentions!
Way back in 1979 I was in London and in a boat ride on the Thames. It was tourist season during the sunshiny month of May. My Brit friend told me that he could make out the nationality of the people, French, German, Brit, Russian etc. by the contours of their behinds. I am still amazed. I for one can never tell an English bum from Swiss cheese, leave alone an Irish-stew from a Scottish hind. As I wandered around looking for where Covent gardens was, one portly sausage, whom I had thought to be local, came up to me and asked me for directions. I took out my map, spread it out and said knowingly, “Ah! Let’s see where we are”.
Even back home in Amchi Mumbai, a local friend did make an impression. As we passed-by people in other passing cars, he could make out a Maharashtrian, a Bihari, a Gujju , and a Punjabi. If he was playing on my ignorance I wouldn’t have known; for I at best could make out only a Sardarji from other Indians, and the north-easterner of course.
Now back to our two blue-throated eastern bulbuls; boarding was announced and they joined the queue. I took my lazy time and was one of the last to board, when Lo and behold! As I took my aisle seat they were there in the next two seats. By and by I was tempted to reveal my identity and zap them. I however decided that their chirpy chatter was more entertaining than my having to answer probing queries that my epiphany to them would have entailed.
Sparrows are most chirpy-free when they are left to be themselves in their own environment.
I took a trip on a bumble bee.
When I reached Ziro I made a stop.
A trip on a heliship, from Guwahati to Naharlagun helipad, just a few miles from Itanagar town is a bumblebee flight along the Brahmaputra flood plain, with the Himalayas on the left and the distant Arakan mountains towards the right.
Mountains rise when two tectonic plates collide. “Collided” sounds a rather violent word to use when the drifting Gondwana plate met up with the Europa plate, eons ago in geological time. They actually greeted each other “Ahoy!”, “hello!”, firmly shook hands, and then it was a timeless embrace. They hugged, and as they snuggled and cozied up to each other, the sheets to the north folded up east-west giving rise to the Himalayas. The eastern nudge formed the Arakans in a north-south line. The tectonic dalliance resulted in a profusion of new species and sub-species of flora and fauna. It was the perfect crucible for a racial-mix of humankind.
Shillong, 5000’ in altitude and astride the Khasi Hills and the erstwhile capital city of the then undivided Assam, is still the educational and cultural hub of the N-East. It therefore cradles the ethno-racial mix of the entire region and in fact of the oriental world almost. My golf buddy, the CMD of Umiam, is always very confident in identifying the racial type of those we pass by. The drive from the course always coincides with School-time and college-time. The footpaths are a parade of all the ethnic groups, the Tibeto, the Burman, the Tibeto-Burman types, the Mongolian stock, the Australasians and so on. Practiced observation can enable one to at least make a guess between a Khasi and a Garo, an Arunachali from a Nagaland manu, a Bodo from Karbi, a Mizo from a Manipuri. A Chang Naga friend once boasted of being able to identify a Sema from an Ao, or an Angami, a Lotha and even his aunt’s cousin’s nephew! It is amazing! The food habits are all as different as the colours of the cabbage and somewhat not too similar either. On the way through a market, the Rt. Hon’ble CMD, pointed out one with typical Australasian looks, and I readily agreed that she did have something there for the spinners as well as for the swingers!
(The author is Retd Chief Commissioner, GST & Customs, NE Region, Shillong)