Sunday, May 16, 2021 08:15 [IST]
Last Update: Sunday, May 16, 2021 02:45 [IST]
Life could be more adventurous, if you’re brave enough to face challenge and he took a venturesome approach to an interior settlement of the hills of Dima Hasao (Dimasa Hills), then NC Hills, while he was serving as Commissioner Hills and Barak Valley. It was ‘Semkhor’, the warrior village; it’d once settled from the invaders of Naga head-hunters. The land of undiscovered mystery might have haunted him to sightsee around the natural habitat. The other day morning, he walked the talk with his colleagues Meena and Mewra at IAS Colony. They really surprised his noble idea of visiting 400 years of old hamlet that cries for development.
He wished to make it something unusual and informed the Deputy Commissioner. Initially, DC thought his program wasn’t necessary for the reason of security concern from DHD extremist group. But he was determined. Three bags full of rice, dal and salt were readied for loading. He was surprised at the arrival of armed police forces headed by SDPO Maibong even though he stepped up to go with two PSOs. It convoyed him accompanying by Additional Deputy Commissioner and other District officials.
Dimasa are the original inhabitant tribe of Assam. The sons of mighty river are the rulers prior to the advent of Ahoms, since 13th century. Haflong is the hill station HQs of the least populous District of Dima Hasao. He set off to explore from the Sub District HQs Maibong, while traversing through the potholes & bad hilly roads. By virtue of geographical location, it’s considered as the fulcrum between the Brahmaputra and the Barak valleys. The convoy kept moving with Red Beacon atop Ambassador. 30 km long drive was mesmerized by treacherous roads and witnessed the exotic world of plants and birds. The everlasting beauty of clouds once floated on high over hills and vales.
And the iconic white from Hindustan, once fondly called the king of Indian roads was finally halted over a huge fallen tree that blocking the narrow passage. The worst fears had been realized then that the path came to a dead end. Three energetic Dimasa arrived at once, whose packs were heavier than their bodies. There was virtually no drive possible inside the dense forest. The sun disappeared almost instantly behind a raincloud. The bags were offloaded and they carried towering loads on their backs supported by a strap over foreheads. Those muscled tribal used to carry their needs up and down the mountains. He wonders how they could manage such feats of strength and endurance. With trekking being the only source of access, the isolated geography had result to do so.
It wasn’t a red-carpet event at the tiny community of Semkhor. There are dozens of villages over a few settlements of every hill that looked a bit primitive. The noise of gentle wind had probably broken the silence of that quiet parish. The Diyang valley looked deserted as the mountainous regions are inaccessible. He felt like exploring the primeval days of history. To the untrained ear, it might sound like musicians warming up a strange instrument. All of a sudden, a group of dark and frail women assembled after a warbling whistle called out to fall in. They live in forests; they are extremely shy, isolated and self-contained with many taboos for superstition. Semkhar inhabited by Semcha sub-tribe of Dimasa-Kachari.
His ponytail hair gathered and fastened at the back who tattooed his face and hands to indicate his prowess in battle and tribal identity. Khunang - the village Headman arrived with bare body as lifestyle in wilderness doesn’t suit civilized cloth, but he gave a speech like a reigning monarch wearing a strip of decorative head wrap and a long sash looping over his shoulder. Incidentally, there were no adult boys in that event as they feared of getting caught. He couldn’t follow him but listening through a translator to dictate. “You’ve the power of ocean and we desperately needed a helping hand when villagers are plagued by a poverty-stricken land”. They’re the most neglected and lagged behind for need of development. Semkhar means salt well. Fresh water is a scarcity and it contains high level of arsenic. To quench their thirst, residents depend on rainfall. They’re facing a battle for survival for so long.
Any travelers would be fascinated by hills’ mystical energy that surrounds the valley. The abandoned hills have mysterious stories. Their religious practices and rituals are quintessentially unique. He was attentive, carefully listening headman’s appeal as a crowd of fascinated onlookers but failed to promise anything other than writing notes for next hierarchy as he had the jurisdiction of administration and law and order only where District Council has been entrusted with financial power. The bagful of rations was placed for a community feast and fifteen hundred Rupees for a meat recipe. The headman retorted instantly “that’s not enough for a Buffalo”. His approval for another thousand made instantly.
With a heavy heart for those humble dwellers, he turned to wave goodbye. It took away only memories and left behind footprints. The incident remains a talk of the day as no one had such call before. Isn’t that a customary to not arrive at someone’s home for a meal empty handed? After a decade, tour de Semkhor is calling him again. Semkhor has its struggle for a living even today. Nothing stopped him in that accomplish task. To fulfill wanderlust, Dr. Sashadhar Nath, IAS (Retd) has shared memories from April 2008 that inspired me to write the sequence of a gripping narrative for a quest. That was the mountain of his effort and he’d conquered it. His love and care for Semkhor is unfailing.