The music and the colors of Spring !!

Well.. I know this is not the Spring...and Bihu (a festival of Assam) is yet to come. I just wanted to share these photographs in my blog. I took these photographs for an assignment and it's more of a photo story. It was during the Bihu of 2011 in my hometown, Sivasagar. Here every year 'Rongali Bihu' is celebrated with great enthusiasm and grandeur. Hundreds of people participates in this festival and people from all over the state comes together to welcome the Spring!


Colorful... Fun...and Mesmirizing are just few words to describe the moments.

Situated in the eastern part of Assam, Sivasagar, a place with its history of folklore, the inherent craftsmanship of its people, simplicity of the dwellers and ground for many battles fought over the centuries. Blessed with a colorful historical background, Sivasagar was the capital of the Ahom rulers for six centuries, which ended with the arrival of British in the 19th century. Sivasagar was not only the political capital but also the cultural capital of Assam.

Every year Rongali Bihu is celebrated in Rang Ghar, an oval shaped amphitheatre, two-storied pavilion from which the Ahom kings used to watch elephant, buffalo and cock fights and other events. Bihu dancers from all over Assam comes to Sibsagar to participate in this cultural event. Here in this photograph we can see young girls prettily dressed in Mekhela Chador for the performance.

The Deoris are one of the major tribe living in different parts of Assam. The Deoris also observe the Bihu Festival. They call the Bohag Bihu as “Bohagiyo Bisu”.  In this photograph we can see the Deori women awaiting for the Swargadeo in Tolatol Ghar.

Jetuka.. Gaam  kharu..dhol..pepa.. The mesmerizing colours and sounds of Bihu is reflected in this photograph of 'Mishing girls' grooving to the beats of dhol, a traditional musical instrument.

Bihu for the young and the old alike. Also in the background we can see males dressed up like pretty assamese damsels for the occasion. This was the spirit and it still is among the people of Assam.

What a fantastic entry for the majestic Sargadeo!! Wearing his traditional Ahom Emperor attire and his sword dangling around his waist. His personal guard also personal attendant is seen holding an umbrella for him. 

P.S- He is not an emperor, but only dressed like one!! 

The Sargadeo (a Tai word for emperor) and his subjects parade from Tolatol Ghor to Rang Ghor. In the foreground is a policeman on guard, but back in those days it would have been a tall strong Ahom soldier taking Guard!

A 'dreamy' bus ride

I know the title sounds cheesy, but it was the first thing that came to my mind.

Well... this happened long time back when I was in college :) I met a guy..no..I didn't went gaga over him, but he made me think. It's about dreams. It goes like this....

I met this person during a bus journey, from Guwahati to my hometown Sibsagar. The young man was in his mid 20’s and I have to admit that he was quite good looking, although he didn’t had the chocolate-boy looks for which girls would drool over. He was of medium height, dusky complexion and he wore specs. He was wearing a casual white T-shirt and blue jeans, and his hair was cut really short.Overall I rated him 8.5 out of 10, because he looked more impressing than and any of the depressing passengers.

While I was rating him in my mind, to my surprise; I don’t know whether it was pleasant or not, because I totally taken aback and became a little nervous and also conscious as he came and sat beside me. Regarding my nature, I am kind of introvert and I don’t talk much; OK there are some exceptions! Like when I am with my friends I can chatter away continuously. Now back to the bus, I looked towards him; he smiled at me and said, ‘Hi’. Through the dim light of the bus I could see his eyes, they were sparkling. He had beautiful eyes. I smiled back, ‘Hello’. ‘Going home, I guess’, he said. ‘Ya, after four months’, I replied. After the usual question of college, friends, teachers etc, we were quiet. There was pin- drop silence except for the occasional bus horns. The bus was going smoothly through the darkness. I looked outside the window; I could see nothing except some lights faraway. The speed of the bus was increasing and the lights looked like tiny dots. I felt as if the dots were also moving with us swiftly through the darkness, heading towards a destination.

‘Do you believe in following your dreams?’ I was quite startled at his question. ‘Yes, I do’, I answered. ‘Are you following your dreams?’ he again questioned. His question made me think for a second or two, this guy is different. ‘I didn’t get my answers’, he said . ‘I have many dreams and I want my dreams to come true but I don’t know whether I am following my dreams or you can say I am confused or selfish as I don’t want one dream to come true, I want all of my dreams to come true’, I replied. ‘Hah hah’, he laughed sarcastically. Now Now mister, you asked me an absurd question, I answered it and you are laughing, I thought. ‘ You are definitely confused’ he said . ‘You are not following your dreams’ ,he continued, ‘Your dreams are following you, wherever you go, whatever you do, your dreams are always there and these dreams are actually confusing you’. ‘But I believe in dreaming bigger and dreaming more… what about that?’ I asked. ‘I am not telling you not to dream, but dream carefully, know your limits the real world, the real facts. I’ll tell you one proverb; it is my version-too many dreams spoils reality, got my point?’ ‘Hmm, are you a philosopher?’ I questioned. He laughed. There is something about in his laughter. ‘I am just a friend’, he said casually. I also laughed, ‘Thanks for your advice friend, I’ll remember it’.

I closed my eyes and kept thinking of what he said, his eyes, and his laughter. I don’t know when I dozed off to sleep. When I woke up, it was already dawn, sleepily I looked at my watch, it was 4.45 am. Then I looked at my side, hoping to see his face more clearly in daybreak, but he was not there. I was surprised and also sad. Later, I came to know from the conductor that he left the bus at about 3.30 am. I was really disappointed, at least he could have woke me up to say goodbye. I couldn’t forget him till today. Maybe that’s the reason he didn’t say goodbye to me. Maybe we will meet someday,somewhere….

Maybe I did went gaga over him... ;)

The letters

The Letters... the pages have turned yellow, the words seemed a little bit faded, and as I held them in my hands a smile comes on my face. Memories of a sweet childhood flashes across my mind. These letters were written by my maternal grandfather. He was more then my grandfather...the bond that we shared was something that I couldn't put into words.I lovingly called him 'Dita'. I am the eldest of all my cousins and was  kind of proud and happy of all the attention that I used to get when I was young. 

My grandfather doted upon me. We used to play games...talk...laugh and go for long walks. I still remember the evening walks when I walked along with my grandfather,holding his hand. 'Dita' was also a great story-teller. Every afternoon after lunch, I would sit on his lap and bug him to tell stories; and after that begins my journey into the mystical and magical lands where there are prince and princesses, animals that talk...evil witches...carpets that can fly and so many things.

As time passed by things changed.. my mom and I shifted to a different city. I grew older...new school..new friends, everything was so new!  But that didn't stop 'Dita' and me from sharing our new experiences, we started writing letters to each other. He wrote beautifully. I wrote him back..sometimes I sent him pictures that I drew. Every letter he wrote, was like a story to me. In every letter he taught me something new. In his letters, 'Dita' always encouraged me to work hard and to be sincere in whatever I do in my life.

Years passed by... I got into college. I got busy with my studies... friends... parties. In all the hustle and bustle of life, I didn't had time to write anymore letters to 'Dita'. He also got busy with his new grandchildren, telling stories and playing games..just like we used to do. But I was always in touch with him, through phone calls and the frequent visits, only that it was not like before.

'Dita' was growing old. He became thin and frail, but he never forgot to greet us with a smile whenever we visited him. Slowly, as time passed by, he became older..memories started to fade. He was suffering from dementia- a disease where the brain loses its functions and affects memory, thinking and behavior. 

 During his last days, he almost forgot everything, he responded to no one except my grandmother. I was angry and deeply sad ...angry at 'how could this happen to my 'Dita' and sad that 'he no longer remembered me..nor will he ever tell me stories and write letters'. The last time I saw him, he was sitting on his chair under the warm rays of sun. I touched his feet, but he didn't respond. He was completely oblivious of his surroundings, lost in the land of the magical fairy tales. 'Dita' breathed his last on December 2011. 

 Few days back, my mother laminated the letters that 'Dita' wrote to me. As I hold those letters in my hand now, I feel happy and  proud that I had a grandfather, who loved me so much and whose love is preserved forever not only in my heart but also in those letters that he wrote so lovingly to his grand daughter.