Rohmingthanga Pachuau
Aizawl, Mizoram
(A narration of the writer's experiences as he revisits the dreamland of his childhood) by Ka-ro-tea
PART-I All of us are familiar with the above lines from a popular song. It evokes memories of days gone by, of longing for that special someone, of times shared together, of blue skies and green landscapes, of sparkling brooks, and moonlit nights. The following story is also a love story, a story of love that began when I was a small boy in that 'greatest' and ' biggest' of all places, Serkawn, a village comprising some 20 odd houses, just a mile from Lunglei, and home to the Mizoram Baptist Church. Yes, in the late thirties and forties, before my father was transferred, we lived at Serkawn where my father was the Hostel Superintendent and taught at the Serkawn Middle English School, whose alumnus I am proud to be. As such Serkawn was a tiny place, with the schools, one with its weather cock for the boys and the other for the girls, the church, the Mission hospital, and the Mission press dominating our lives. Unlike other villages, the houses were sparsely situated. There were plenty of grasslands, orchards, tall fir trees and a couple of banyan trees. Space was plentiful. The surrounding country side, the beautiful forests of Ramzotlang and Melte, the waterfalls at Khawiva, and the nearby Tlawng river were our favourite haunts. There was plenty of rain, particularly during the monsoon, but the autumn, winter, and spring were indescribably beautiful. I remember the birds, small and big, which were our targets with traps and sairawkherh (pellet bow). On clear days you could see very far, with the sky so blue and the birds criss-crossing in the breeze.
One particular bird was called 'Vamur' (Pengleng swallow or swift) and seemed to fly, mostly from the east towards the nearby heights of Ramzotlang and thence onwards to the summit of Zopuitlang. My grandmother often told me that these birds were bringing loom threads from the peaks of the twin Tan and Lurh mountains where that most enchanting of all fairies (lasi) Chawngtinleri lived and had a loom. These Vamurs carried the threads all the way to Zopuitlang where the loom's 'them tlang' (a sort of warp beam) was located, and then flew back to Tan and Lurh to repeat the circuit. Of course, Chawngtinleri's Puanthin Tlang', the hill where Chawngtinleri shook her clothings to freshen them, was also in the adjacent hills of Sairep. The twin peaks of Tan and Lurh could be seen from Ramzotlang, and I would gaze longingly for that land of romance, heroes and heroines, music and dance, 'Fiara Tui', 'Chhura and Nahaia, 'Rih Dil', of Lallula and of Rorehlova (whose name I happen to bear) , of 'lasi' and kindred spirits, and so many other stories and legends of yester-years, and so may of whom seem to have originated from that part of the world. I had hoped, faintly, that I might perhaps make a trip there some day.
In 1958, the year I graduated, I had a long trek with my uncle, the late Pu Lalmawia, starting from Seling to Champhai, then northwards to North Vanlaiphai where we parted ways, he returning to Aizawl, and me proceeding to Thingsai. While passing through Biate, Lungdar and North Vanlaiphai, we were very close to the thick, purple and green hills of my childhood dreams being, as the crow flies, just a short distance away. Alas, it was a case of being so near, and yet so far away.
Years later, namely in 1973, I came on transfer from Delhi to the newly created Union Territory of Mizoram. Under unusual circumstances, with no effort from my part, I was appointed DC of Aizawl district, a job that required extensive traveling. The opportunity to make a tour to the eastern ranges of the district came in connection with the opening of the EGS road to Hnahlan. Accompanied by my wife, our young son, our baby daughter, Mawitea, my ADC, a couple of officers, and a police party, we set out for our destination. The journey between Zote to Hnahlan, made against the advice of many, and under the shadow of a tragedy, was one of the most eventful journeys ever experienced by me, but the story may perhaps be told some other time.
On our return to Champhai we rested for a day to recoup our enrgy and to service our vehicles for the second leg of our journey to Farkawn, which will take us through those enchanting lands. And having rested, we started the next day. Just about five miles away, on the southern end of the valley, was the village of Ruantlang where the well known singer Lalhmingliana was the Administrative Officer (AO). On the outskirts of the village, there was a small, flat ground. This was the spot where the engraved memorial stones called Mangkhaia Lung , also known as 'Chhura Farep' were supposed to be. I was taken aback to see them lying about uncared for. So after a discussion with the AO.and the village council, I requested them to have the stones erected and fenced with timber. A small amount from EGS was given for tea and refreshments. I am glad to say that in later years, whenever I had the opportunity to visit the site, I had the satisfaction of seeing the stones standing, and enclosed with wooden fences.
Going a little further past Ruantlang, we were shown the location of the lake of 'Rih Dil'. We were also told of the possibility of finding down below the rocking stone called 'Rahbuk' on which every spirit of the departed must tread upon on their way to Mitthi Khua , the land of the dead. The spring known as 'Lungloh Tui' which the spirit, on its way to Mitthi Khua , must drink so that the departed would lose all desire to return to earth, was also said to be somewhere in the forests down below. Since we had no time for such an exploration, and assuring myself of finding an opportunity in the future, we proceeded and spent the night at Bungzung.
At Dungtlang, a fairly senior citizen of Leithum village, by the name of Hrangthiauva was introduced to us. Talking with him, we found that he was extremely knowledgeable about Mizo history, culture, religion and even more so about the countryside. We took him along with us, and we were regaled with the history of the places we passed through, such as the story of Zawlsei, Lallula's Zopui, Tualte, Selesih, and of Dungtlang which, according to our guide (though others might disagree), was the biggest ever Mizo village, with seven thousand houses, and of the stories and legends associated with the countryside. At Dungtlang itself, I was very keen to visit 'Lianchhiari Lunglen Tlang' situated above the village. But as there was no approach road, (not even a footpath), and our time was short, we had to be satisfied by looking at the pristine timberland interspersed with flowering trees, amidst which were the remains of Lianchhiari's loom, and the rocky precipice where she sat and pined for Chawngfianga, her beloved. It was as if the forest was cradling and providing a protective cover for her. It was obvious that an approach road was needed. Accordingly, an EGS road was sanctioned and the local officer advised to execute it.
After passing Vaphai village, we came to 'Tan', to me the most facinating mountain of all mountains, where Chawngtinleri ruled over her animal kingdom, and dispensed her favours, namely, a successful hunt, to those in her good books. This was where she worked on her loom which spanned across the sky from the towering heights of Tan and Lurh to the pinnacle of Zopuitlang. I do not remember the exact time of year, but to me, the forests at the foothills of Tan were at their greenest, with Vaube, Fartuah and other flowering trees interspersed among them. The mountain itself inspired awe, grandeur and majesty, all at the same time. The whole scene took one's breath away. I would have loved to come across the graceful animals of legend, on whose back sat the 'lasis', or the wild mithuns with rainbows between the tips of their horns. With so much to see and hear, I do not remember looking for 'Vamurs' in particular. Pu Hrangthiauva invited our attention to various points, particularly the 'puk' (cave) where Chawngtinleri was supposed to dwell. We wondered whether Buizova ever lived here and sang his melodies causing the trees to shed tears of leaves, and where the Liandova brothers might have found the giant python. As it was already late in the evening, we had no time to stop at the fabled hill called Thasiama Se No Neihna, where Thasiama's mithun incredibly climbed to the top and delivered a calf. A little ahead on the roadside was also Fiara Tui , which the Mizos considered to be the sweetest water in the world. Thogh we were all keen to taste the water, a visit to this spring too was reserved for the next day.
We passed through 'Lam Thuam Thum', said to be the trijunction of the three trails which figured prominently in the story of Kungawrhi. The opening to 'Kungawrhi Puk' (the grotto of a maiden called Kungawrhi) was full of dry and broken branches obviously brought by a flooded rivulet, now dry. I requested them to clear the 'Puk' and fence the area with timber. We were also shown a number of memorial platforms known as 'Lungdawh' (I was told the stones were sometimes removed for other purposes), and a number of old grave stones. Some of the engravings were hardly legible, but some had highly interesting information about the deceased. From a distance we were shown 'Lamsial khua', where Fiara was said to have lived. I was also told of 'Lamsial Puk' where the skeletal remains of some of our forefathers were preserved. An EGS approach road was sanctioned to enable tourists to visit it in the future - but the villagers were advised to preserve the bones, fence the area, and to prevent anyone from pilfering them. Wherever we halted, the villagers were told how vital it was to preserve the virgin forests which serve as a hinterland, and as a sanctuary to the heritage sites, however intangible they might be.
'Lurh' was on the other side, but there was no road to enter the forest. So an EGS road to a village on the slope of the mountain was sanctioned, which was completed soon after. As the sun was setting we reached Farkawn, to me a romantic name that often rang a bell in my ears. The most senior male citizens of the village welcomed us attired with the most traditional dresses they could muster, complete with ornaments, trinkets, and the inevitable pipes, some of which were made with tursing , the bamboo used for making the best quality pipes made in these hills. It certainly was the most colourful welcome that I ever received in the course of my extensive tours in Mizoram. It was a pity that we had no good cameras, not to speak of VCRs and such like.
On our return journey we stopped at the legendary 'Fiara Tui' on the eastern slope of Tan, a few miles from Farkawn. Being the dry season, there was no water on the roadside. We had to descend some metres down below to find the spring. The water was trickling. So we took the help of a big leaf to direct its flow. After drinking our fill, we filled one jerrycan and a number of bottles. We spent a long time at our task, so small was the flow of water. On return at Aizawl, I gave samples of the Farkawn Fiara Tui to friends, and the rest was consumed in the course of a year or two. On very special occasions, it was also mixed with other beverages. As readers might be aware, both Farkawn and Vaphai claimed to have the true location of 'Fiara Tui'. The one claimed by Vaphai was on the western slopes of Tan. It was situated at the base of a huge boulder - a small lovely pool of clear water almost too good to be true. It was located in the midst of a very thick growth of trees and bushes, so thick and green that the very appearance suggested the presence of water. Here also we drank and filled another jerrycan. An approach road to this 'Fiara Tui' was also sanctioned as it was of some distance from the road.
I would like to mention here that all the springs seeping through the rocks of 'Tan' are sparkling, cool and delicious. However, the vicinity surrounding Vaphai 'Fiara Tui' being so rich with trees and foliage, a needling doubt arose inside of me as to how such an obvious water source could be hidden. I must also admit that from what I could gather from other knowledgeable sources-including Pu Hrangthiauva, folklore, and old songs - I felt that the real 'Fiara Tui' could be somewhere else, more to the vicinity of 'Lamsial Khua', and probably on the southern or south western slopes of 'Tan'. When the AO and VCP of Farkawn reported completion of the road to 'Lamsial Puk', they reported finding the real 'Fiara Tui' along the newly constructed road. I had then hoped that I would some day surely go back, spend a couple of weeks, and try to unravel the controversy, and locate the true 'Fiara Tui'. On the foothills of the mountain was the famous hillock 'Thasiama Se No Neihna'.
On our way back we stopped near this hill. I did not allow anyone to climb the hill because our time was very limited and also because there was no road to it. However, my wife, on a false pretext misled me, and without my knowledge approached the hill through the jungle, quickly followed by the VCP and a guard. I do not know how she did it - next we saw her standing on top of the hillock, and it was only with some difficulty I persuaded her to come back. She was probably the first known human being to have set foot at the peak after 'Thasiama's Sial' had given birth to her calf. On her return I scolded her for wasting so much of our time because, I must admit, I was peeved at being outsmarted and outperformed. Here also an EGS approach road was sanctioned which was completed soon after.
PART - II : The saying goes - 'Man proposes, God disposes'. I stayed on in Mizoram for another six years, and was given various assignments. I also came back for a short stint some years later, but my plans for a second visit to these places came to nought. So it was that long after superannuation, but still in a post retirement assignment in Delhi, and persuaded by my wife's yearning to visit 'Rih Dil', that I did retrace the route, however fleetingly. So, at March end of 1999, we left for Champhai, accompanied by our 'baby daughter' who had since grown up and Lalthianghlima (Pu Hrangthiauva's son). At Champhai we were joined by Vanlalsawma, the forest chief of the district. Our first stop was at Keifang where we had a look at the 'Rul Chawm Puk', the cave where a big reptile which used to be fed by some of our forefathers was said to inhabit. I had seen this puk years earlier, while undertaking the long trek - Seling - Champhai - Thingsai - Keitum, mentioned earlier. Then, it used to be just above the main road (Lam lian). There used to be thick foliages all around, creating the impression that the "Rulpui" was still inside. It was therefore with some trepidation that we had then peeked at the 'Puk'. In fact, we could not see through the foliage properly.
This time though, it was completely bare of any growth, not even a blade of grass. Houses had since been constructed in the immediate vicinity. As a result, the wonder and the mystery of the unknown had disappeared, it had become just a small roadside cavity, and one felt saddened as if something of value had been lost. From Seling onwards, all the way to Champhai, we kept looking for the blooms of Vaube and Fartuah - since it was the right season, and a familiar sight on our earlier trips on this route. But it was most shocking to discover that there was no green patch anywhere along the road, not to speak of blooming trees. These disappointments were the first two of a series to follow.
The third was with the once beautiful forest of 'Lianchhiari Lunglen Tlang' (the hill where the damsel Lianchhiari was said to be pining for her lover), the forest which since times immemorial enveloped the heart broken maiden and from which she surely must have got some solace. I think there is a song which asks "where have all the flowers gone"? In this case the question is where have all the trees gone, and the flowers too. Obviously, someone had allotted a big chunk for cultivation leaving just a fraction of the forest in the vicinity of the rock. How tragic. It was as if a beautiful woman had been reduced to a mere skeleton because of the ravages of men. Though I was happy that at long last I had come by the road I prepared some 25 years ago, and was actually sitting on the rocky precipice, my joy was shaken by the knowledge that something beautiful had gone forever, never to return.
The fourth was with both the locations of 'Fiara Tui'. In the case of Farkawn 'Fiara Tui', the area above the road, along the upstream, was jhum land, and having been burnt recently, it was completely bare. The foliage below the road was also badly burnt. The result was that the very appearance and environment was unfriendly. One could hardly entertain the thought that the most delicious water in the world could be down there and of course, there was no water, not even a trickle, the forest cover having been so completely denuded. So it was with Vaphai 'Fiara Tui'. The entire area had since been allotted for a garden (huan). No trees are left. But the source being so good, there is still a pool of water at the base of the rock. To add to my disenchantment, a villager let it out that the water was not hygenic - probably as a result of domestic animals drinking from the pool, of which we saw one as we were approaching the spring.
The fifth was at 'Tan Tlang'. The mountain itself continues to be spectacular, majestic and changing colours as the sun moves across the sky, exuding an aura of mystery all around. Sadly though, all the trees, greenery and foliage which, like a woman's sparkling necklace, used to adorn the foothills, had vanished. The rich hinterland, the abode of the spirits, the 'lasis', the birds and the beasts, had been decimated. No wonder the inhabitants had faded away without any trace, probably led by Chawngtinleri herself to greener pastures, perhaps, to 'Buannel Ram', the paradise of the creatures of the forest. I visited 'Lamsial Puk', and saw the bones still well preserved. The approach road was also good, and I was glad it stopped well short of the cave. We had to walk a fairly long distance through the jungle to reach the cave which, to my great joy, appeared to have remained undisturbed. I hoped they would preserve it that way. I also hoped that at certain steep stretches they would fix some support with local timber materials to prevent someone slipping off the track.
But now I would not recommend construction of a jeepable road to reach the Puk itself. I also revisited 'Thasiama Se No Neihna Tlang'. The small hillock was now easily approachable by car, and mercifully it still retained the nearby trees and foliage, probably because it was too steep for cultivation. I made an attempt at climbing to even the score with my wife, but finding the track too steep, I became dizzy and had to give up. However, I was successful this time in discouraging my wife from repeating her feat. We passed through 'Lam Thuam Thum' and saw 'Kungawrhi Puk', the latter was ominously fenced with a barbed wire, which gave an impression that someone might have been allotted a garden .
I also visited two sites with commemorative stones recently erected honouring people who were considered to have distinguished themselves by their outstanding achievement in their profession (I was told they were considered to have achieved the status of thangchhuah), and to literature and the arts - the former at 'Lianchhiari Lunglen Tlang' and the latter at Khawbung. I also saw the tombstone of Pu Hrangthiauva, who was no more. All this and much more were covered in the course of a day, and when we came back we had a good night's rest. The next day we went down to Tiau (the river which flows near Thingsai and gave me so much enjoyment in my youth) by the newly constructed PWD road, hence the drive was smooth and relaxing. On the Myanmar side of Tiau, our papers were cleared in no time thanks to our escort, a DSP from Champhai. From there we were transported by a noisy old one tonner. My wife and myself shared the front seat, the rest of the party were at the back with an escort. The drive itself, initially along the river followed by a steep climb, was rock and roll at its best, still much better than the ride to Hnahlan some 25 years ago.
At last, 'Rih Dil' came into view. Even though there was a village close to the lake and the adjacent lands on one side were cultivated, the first view of the heart shaped lake struck one with its sheer beauty and the stillness of its waters. The surrounding environment was, however, bereft of its original greenery. One had to close one's eyes to imagine the landscape of long ago, of dense forest and rich animal life, including the legendary 'Rih Ar' whose eggs could immobilise anyone who dared try taking them away. It was no wonder that for people who lived in constant fear of evil spirits residing in all manner of things, and spent a great deal of their lives in propitiating them, the lake was revered as the passageway of the spirits of the dead on their way to 'Pialral' and 'Mitthi Khua'.
I had always been apprehensive of swimming in the lake because of the myths and stories associated with it, told to me so many times by my grandmother. But tempted by the sight of a few boys swimming in the lake, I also took off my clothes and joined them. To me it was a record of sorts, even if it might not have really measured up to my wife's. On the way back, we took a detour to the new Hruaikawn village. The villagers directed our attention to a red tinged mountain far across the river Tiau, which they said was 'Buannel ram' the abode of the birds and the beasts. Having left the vehicles in the village, they also took us downhill for about a kilometer to see 'Rahbuk' and 'Lungloh Tui'. I must confess that for a moment, I suspected the authenticity of the site because I had always regarded 'Tiau Ral' as being on the eastward side of the river and it seemed to me unlikely that the spirits of the dead would retrace their steps after having crossed the river Tiau and reaching 'Rih Dil'. But then I realised that our ancestors could very well have regarded the westward side of the river as 'Tiau Ral' since they had migrated steadily from Myanmar towards the present Mizoram. And I know that the debate about the location of such mystical places could never be satisfactorily resolved.
I recalled that some time in the mid 70's, the then headmaster of GMHS, a culture buff, reported that an expedition led by him had discovered 'Rahbuk', and apprehending mischief including theft, broke the stone in two pieces, removing one piece to the school museum. Though I did not say a word, I was a little upset with what had been done to the stone, but it was too late in the day and in any case, I realized it had been done with the best of intentions. The other half was still in place. Close to the stone was 'Lungloh Tui', a tiny pool of water formed by seepage through the rocks. Enroute, we were also shown what they said could be the spot where Pawla stood with his pellet bow. The lay of the land was, however, such that it was difficult to visualise the spot as the convergence of the seven trails. There were 'Hawilo Par' among the foliage. This is a flower which the spirits of the dead plucked and wore on their head; and just like Lungloh Tui, they then lost all their desire to return to earth. The forest around was still in good condition, except for a small patch. The advice to preserve the forest was repeated. The villagers also wanted a motorable approach road, but this time, I responded with reservations. We also stopped at Ruantlang, where we found the main 'Chhura Farep' had since been shifted and erected in front of the YMA office.
PART - III: So the native had returned to relive the dreams of his boyhood, and to savour the happiness associated with his first visit. But, as you would have seen, this was not to be. No doubt, there was satisfaction in being able to come back after 25 years, to physically touch the places which could not be reached the first time, to actually drive on the roads one had initiated, and seeing that at least a few of one's suggestions were implemented. At the same time, I was sorely disappointed. By this time you will appreciate that the romance and mystery of all these places are closely interwoven with the encircling environment, in particular the trees and foliage surrounding them, the thicker, the richer, the bigger; the better. The variety and richness of the fauna, in turn, depend on the size and quality of the flora. Unfortunately, the loss of forest cover has been accelerated ever since the abolition of the Chiefs who were fiercely protective of their forest lands. Since then I saw, as some of you have also seen, the extensive damage to forests caused by jhumming, fire, badly planned and even worse executed developmental programmes, reckless exploitation, indifference, selfishness and greed. Even as far back as the early 70s, as one flew by helicopter throughout the length and breadth of Mizoram, it was rare to find a good forest stretch except in the far-flung areas. I had thought that my sensitivity on this score was, to some extent, blunted to such destruction. I, therefore, accepted as inevitable the fact that, between Seling and Champhai, there is no more forest, no more blooming Vaubes, nor a single orchid to be seen.
Still, I was totally unprepared for the shocking discovery at 'Lianchhiari Lunglen Tlang', 'Tan, the two sites of 'Fiara Tui' and 'Rul Chawm Puk', where some of our most precious non-tangible heritage sites have been vandalised and ravaged so wantonly by the complete destruction of their environment. It was as if our inner-most recesses had been forcibly prised open and exposed to the forces of destruction, and our very roots being severed. The beauty, the romance, and the mystery of these places, and yes, that indescribable 'presence' of the spirits associated with them have all been irredeemably diminished. How did we allow things to come to such a pass? Was there no one who cared? How many more of such cultural and heritage sites have met a similar fate? Have we been conducting ourselves so dismally in other fields as well? Where do we go from here? Would we be able to have a change of heart, undergo a process of transformation, and begin the task of restitution? Various conflicting thoughts had then crossed my mind. And I hoped against hope that there would be a come back, a restoration, that it would come to pass in the next century. Then the flora and the fauna would return. Fiara would come back to his spring, which would no longer be dry whatever the season. Lianchhiari would remain undisturbed in her dwelling place, shaded from sun and rain by the woodlands, and comforted by the chirping of birds and the buzzing of bees. Chawngtinleri and the 'lasis' would be back, riding their mounts. She would resume weaving at her loom from the rocky cliffs of Tan and Lurh, and the Vamurs would once again criss-cross the skies towards Ramzotlang, and thence onwards to Zopuitlang. And as for me, I will then retrace my steps once more.