MILLO ANKHA / Kormo bekoduku

In Kolyuñ- Ui, the life force grew and defragmented with Lodu, Lobiñ .

Universe came into existence with all its elements and celestial bodies

Donyi - Polo was born. from the bosoms of Ui

kneading the celestial dust and water, Chantu; the earth was created- giving birth to the living beings

when spirits dispersed seeds into Chantu, Humans were born.

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Nyibu are the healers who walk into our hearths and carry the words onto the distant terra, beyond the walls and the fields, our farms and the silvering brooks beyond the grazing lawns of the Mithuns, following the spine of the tamii, the tips of the bamboo blades and the cry of the fowls onwards towards the world of spirits and ancestors. When messages are revealed in the eyes of the egg yolk and liver of the chicken, our heads bow in anticipation.

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The earth awakes from the slumber of the winters. Fields are slowly prepared, seeds are sprinkled. Birds chatter endlessly as the days get longer. Like bringing back life in our hands, the fields are soaked with water and the rice seedlings are transplanted along with fishes.

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The farmer arrives, early. Early before the birds can prey on the fishes swimming in the water world. Water where the clouds reflect all day , water measured on the limbs of the saplings. Saplings that are singled and dibbled on the sheets of the earth. Earth mounds on which we sit and sip sweet red teas, sometimes with a pinch of a story or in silence. Silence that manifolds as deep wisdom of life. Life that unfolds as dreams. Dreams inescapable of their tending hands.

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A herder recalls all his life being taught by his father taught by his father - The paths of the forests and hills that spread out from the Aji, Yorlu and Biije. Beyond the gates, in the grazing path of the Mithuns across the mountains of forests. They walk side by side, foraging among the rustling leaves. Neither of them remembers, how many steps they have taken. Blurring boundaries and territories , like the endless discourses of the canes untrammelled. He maps the foliages, under the shade of a maple or thriving in an illuminated pool at a certain hour.

Taper, niiji, riji, tapo, dolo - when the time came, the men walked into the forest and dragged the trunks of wood that would serve as their altar/ lapang .

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Here is a herbarium collection of Indigenous flora of Ziro valley. The plants are indispensable to the community for their spiritual, cultural and medicinal value.

Each plant is foraged with a word of prayer to the forest spirits.

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Shu Myoro are the terrestrial deities. Oral tradition says when Abotani migrated from one place to another, Shu Myoro also wanted to migrate with it Tanii , but Tanii refused to take Shu Myoro along with him. After repeated request they made an agreement that Shu Myoro will reside in the periphery of village and protect Tanii from fire accident and epidemic. And Tanii shouldn’t transgress and disturb his domain in the periphery of village. So, Shu Myoro are caretaker and protector God of village.

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In moonlit lanes, smoke dissolves in endless chatter, egg shells peek in air. An elderly couple speaks of the groves in the periphery of the villages. Each grove is named, trees become humans ; Pumi- Pubyang- Yalyo- Yabo- so on. The human trees glow in the rhapsodies, and sit with us. Our relationships are entangled in gestures and words. Its been this way for generations they say. We are recognised as their own extensions. When we offer pounded rice, fowls, wine to thank them during Myoko - our bond revives, so our children and their children and theirs can grow in strength. In body, mind and spirit, we are shielded from fire, accidents and debilitation.

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Where are all the fields:

It could be any other day, but on this one I was jam packed between the women and their baskets in a car.

The cramp in the car made everyone squeal in excitement or discomfort As we passed the fields, we watched them as the years carried us all here

They were making concrete Bundts and clogging the road - who is whose and whose is who

The fields are unrecognisable these days

The buildings were propping up one had to wait a while to find a speckless spot of the field that ran in a stretch and bared the bosoms of the hills.

No body does farming anymore, what will they eat later?

All the free rice supplied to them, how much can it last? Some day you have to get to the soil and sow your food. uui sui mijema, yaala dakindoh
( no one makes uui rituals, we’ll all be decaying )

Rewinding the words, in the mist, Nikun-Sukun alight from their dreams, facing their stark future of becomings. Will they ever remember they have the same tongue.

Seeds were planted long time ago and we grew out of the same belly. In my exile from the land, had I been born a human- would I lose my sight of the tree from which we branched out?

In a different lifetime- Nikun and Sukun were sisters. One was hardworking and became human. The other was a dreamer and remained as Mithun.

Oral tradition says that all living beings are sons and daughter of Abotani- our forefather. It is believed that the Tigers, Eagles, Snakes even leeches and other insects are descendants of Abotani and we all are siblings. We are neither different nor superior to them. We are bestowed with Chare-Dore (power to differentiate the good and bad). So, we are entrusted with responsibility to take care of the creation of almighty.

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Millo ANKHA