Nagaland – TRAVELTRUNK.NET

The poinsettias grow wild along the road as we enter Kohima. The red leaves announce Christmas is round the corner. Infact the festive season is evident as we drive out of Dimapur. The traditional gates to the ‘model villages’ are colourfully decorated. Enroute small houses have red stars tied to bamboo poles. A religion from far away has found a home and eco support! Makeshift shops along the way sell potted hybrid red and white poinsettias. So, so tempting!

Then we cross the funereal shops…. Stocked up with a profusion of bouquets, arrangements and wreaths, at first glance I mistake them for flower shops. Then I spy a polished coffin lurking behind cascading artificial flowers….. what ?? When I look for the shop names, I see boards announcing ‘The Final Resting Place, The Last Journey’…okay then…

Night falls by the time we reach Kohima and driving on the dusty, broken road the lights of the capital draped over several hills are visible from a distance. A traffic snarl so typical of a hill station greets us. Most come for the Hornbill Festival but Kohima has lots more to offer than a bed and breakfast for the visitors. What should be on your itinerary while visiting this quaint hill station?

Beyond Kohima go- Into a Bamboo Bowl: A Hike to Dzukou Valley

Kohima’s War Cemetery

Standing in the heart of town above the traffic crossing where we got stuck in the night is the stone with the famous epitaph ‘When You Go Home, Tell Them of Us and Say For Your Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today.” Set in the War Cemetery’s lowest step in an alcove, these words on the tall obelisk have been oft quoted. Kohima is one of the few places in India where a World War II battle was fought. A battle so fierce and bloody, it laid waste thousands of lives and earning the sobriquet- Stalingrad of the East.

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The war cemetery is laid out on the ridge where the Deputy Commissioner’s house stood, with a tennis court on its estate. Nothing remains of the house but the tennis court on a higher step is marked out. A band practises somewhere on the premises as we slowly walk around the terraced lawns with rows upon rows of stone markers with bronze plaques stating names and touching messages, giving glimpses of loved ones lost in honour, names that cut across creeds, cultures and continents. The tunes of ‘The Last Post’ and ‘Rouse’ wafting around make the experience even more poignant. A cherry tree grafted from one that stood here during the battle survives like another memory kept alive.

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The Cathedral of Kohima

The religion might have come from another part of the world but the structure of the most important church in Kohima is visibly native. The first church in Nagaland was set up in 1872 but as the church of the Bishop of the diocese of Kohima, Mary Help of Christian’s Cathedral is not only important but its architectural rooting sets it apart. Inspired by the traditional Naga house, it is all soaring angles outside. Its spacious, vaulted interior is held up by steel girders.

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Painted glass above the altar lets in ample light to show a semi-circular seating and the revolving wooden doors carved with traditional motifs among others open to steps leading to a ground with a view. A wooden crib here has supposedly been made from wood of an olive tree from Bethlehem. Kohima’s story is somehow linked to the Japanese…the funds for the church came from survivors and families of the Japanese soldiers in remembrance of their ones lost here in battle.

Main Street Night Market

I couldn’t find time to visit the famed Mao market on my flying visits to Kohima but I was not going to miss out on the night market on the main market street. During the Hornbill Fest the road closes to the chaotic traffic that plagues it during daytime and the street market keeps time with sunset. It hits the nose and makes me salivate, but I take my time. I walk the length of the festively lit up road lined with makeshift stalls, some with tables to dine, to see the fares and build up an appetite. Meats are being dabbed in oil, grilled, fried, doused in sauces. The pork momos come with a fiery chutney (This is the land of the Raja Mircha!), the sausages and tender grills on thin bamboo skewers, the crickets are fried crisp and I am allowed to sample one but the larvae are too generously packed on a long skewer. I pass.

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Thukpa is soul food and cannot be passed on, even here. At one stall the chatty young girl serving is from the Sumi tribe and teases the boy wearing a jacket with a bull, manning the counter. A mithun he corrects her, as he is from the Ao tribe. Another boy is wrapped in a Sumi shawl I am told. (By and by one realises it is not just a ‘Naga shawl’! Its everything! From a skirt to a dress to… well, a shawl!)

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There are game stalls, stalls selling knick-knacks and souvenirs and ofcourse lots of eateries. At one end a group of men crowd around a table and let up exultant shouts now and then. Gambling for live chickens I discover later. Luck lays out a feast for some and nobody seems to gamble their winnings!

This capital city is a melting pot where influences from far flung lands add a piquant flavour to the local tribal cauldron. The final dish served is worth sampling and savouring.

Fact File-

Getting there–

Dimapur is the nearest railhead and airport.

It is about 70 kms but with the road widening and construction takes a minimum of 2 hours to reach by taxi.

Food–

At the night market the skewers start from 100/- but options for vegetarians are limited and the stalls serve mostly meats.

Miscellaneous-

Entry at the War Cemetery is free. It is shut on Sundays.

Sunday is a day for prayers and rest for the entire state!

Thank God the man came along! And thank God for the advice to take a bedsheet. We were like a giant calzone stuffing in the night but at least it was a minty clean wrapping! I had been wanting to do a trek in the north-east but the rains played truant for too long this year and travelling to Walong showed exactly the kind of terrain one might expect- extremely steep slopes and dense jungles mostly. So how was Nagaland’s most popular and doable hike, the Dzukou Valley trek? Steep, yes but also stunning, short, and surprising!

Facts First-

1. Dzukou valley is part of the ancestral territory of the Angami tribe. It is managed by the South Angami Youth Organization. So, all the trekking companies have to go through them to book the tents, rooms and dormitories in the Rest House complex there. There seems to be no other camping ground.

2.Everything is available on hire to stay there from foam mattresses to blankets. How often they get cleaned (if at all!) is a Big question mark. Its probably on a first come first serve basis. The rooms have basic toilets, no running water and no electricity.

3.Food is available at the Rest House in the valley. You can ask for fresh rice, dal and vegetables or have the ubiquitous Maggie and cup noodles.

4.So, don’t spend money going through a trekking company. Just get a good guide. Its probably mandatory.

5.The distance and hours of walking (approx 3 hours) involved don’t warrant a 2-night stay…. Unless you plan to explore the small valley thoroughly or just want to chill.

6.We took a guide to show us the way and carried small backpacks for an overnight trip but with enough food to last many days!

7.Rainy season is the most popular time to do the trek, especially if you want to see the endemic Dzukou lily blooming. We found post monsoon to be the ideal time. (Climbing or walking those paths in the rain isn’t for me.) The sun is strong but the nights are cold.

Jungle Jamboree

After a night of admiring the twinkling lights of Kohima and Chakabama below us we start from Zakhama a little behind schedule. I spend the time waiting for our vehicle, to chase some Green-backed Tits (Some sense of humour the Englishman naming them had – once said a birdwatcher.) preening and flitting around a bottlebrush. A gorgeous yellow orchid in full bloom adds colour to the barely there bottlebrush flowers. Driving on the road to Viswema and then on the track to the starting point we find there isn’t much difference between the two, both are equally rutted only the latter is rocky enough in places to warrant a 4/4 drive. A parking lot and a massive new house mark the jumping off point. Soon the roughly hewn stone steps begin and the path winds its way up through thick oak forest. Sunlight barely filters through and the soil is as moist as the tree trunks throughout. But the gradient ensures we are soon sweating it out. At places the steps are the roots of the trees and I need to scramble up. We have company throughout and the trail is marked unfortunately by plastic discards. A child is piggy-backing down on a guide and I offer him an energizer bar. Wrong person…should have given it to the guy carrying him. A group of youngsters singing on top of their voices follow…they certainly don’t need those bars! The French couple climbing up rue that they won’t be able to sight any bears or monkeys now. I’ve only encountered two kinds of beings on treks- those who must sing or have music playing or those for whom the wilderness’ silence is the music. As we emerge above the forest the path narrows and there is a giant sloping boulder to be crossed to get to the summit. I ask the man to remind me why I do this to myself. He gleefully says he will next time!

There is a crowded view-point on top. The vistas make a pretty picture- a cerulean sky and rolling hills, their greens made darker by forests and shadow throwing low clouds. A gushing stream hides somewhere in the forest, to be heard but not seen. On a side the path disappears between two grassy slopes…

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Bamboo Bowl Beckons

It isn’t grass! Its bamboo that we walk between, on a narrow even path, for the next two hours. Even the larks stick to the path! The light green bamboo covers every inch of the valley. At places it is just waist high but at times it forms a tunnel to walk through. There are crystal clear tiny streams to cross and charred remains of a forest patch. The blackened trunks stand out dramatically. In the strong sun we would be slightly burnt too if it weren’t for the tall bamboo providing some shade.

The green and red roofed rest house is like a homing beacon far away on a ridge. We reach the complex of wooden huts spread on the only flat, open ground. We choose a room from the meagre options, dump our stuff, find two chairs and have our packed lunch in a secluded opening with a bird’s eye view of the valley. It’s a shallow bowl of bamboo covered mounds. Right now, post the rains it is still green but come winter it will be covered with frost. Fall colours tinge the tips of a thick grove of trees lining the sides of a stream on a slope nearby. Across the valley there seem to be caves in the rock faces.

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The strong sun and the climb have me wanting to crawl into bed but the man wants to explore this bowl. I reluctantly follow him across the helipad (apparently used only once to douse out a major fire in the valley) and down the slope to the bottom where a cold stream meanders. A circular stone platform with a menhir on the edge doubles as a church we are told. On a mound across the stream a giant white cross makes an incongruous sight.

The sun is descending quickly and we will need an hour to climb back to the rest house. We make it back just in time to catch the sun set on the rim of the valley, warming ourselves with a cuppa. The clear sky burns a dying amber orange before darkness descends. The milky way is a pale band in the cold starlight night.

Dzukou’s Denizens

I wake up to the sound of someone rummaging through our open backpacks. We have unwanted company in our room in the night and he is hungry! Although we never see him, the rat wakes us up intermittently even after we hurriedly pack everything and chuck the dinner plates outside the door. In the morning when I tell one of the youngsters running the place, he looks troubled and then thoughtfully says they’ll have to shoot it. Huh?!…okay then…the Nagas are hunters all and the guide did mention getting permits to shoot bears and deer. Still, a bit extreme perhaps and I suggest a trap instead. Visions of the room being shot up as the wily rodent scampers around play in my mind!

On the way back since we are the last to leave the campsite, we don’t meet a soul till we reach the view point. Its amazing to have a piece of earth to ourselves for couple of hours. The deep dark oak forest’s silence is broken by a flock of Black-eared Shrike Babblers and scampering on a tree ….a giant mouse-like creature! The Nagas need to up their hunting skills…

Category: Nagaland

Kohima-At the Cultural Crossroads where East meets West

Into a Bamboo Bowl – A Hike to Dzukou Valley