I left Tezu by van about 6:45 on the morning of the 13th under cloudy skies. The van headed south on a paved road, crossed a long new bridge over a channel of the Lohit River, and then left the road and drove over sandy dirt tracks through grasslands to a ferry crossing at another, wider channel of the Lohit, arriving there about 7:30. The ferry took 15 to 20 minutes to cross the fast moving river. It motored first downriver and then upriver around a rocky, sandy island. Just a bit upriver a long bridge, maybe three quarters of a mile long, was under construction.
After a 20 minute meal stop, where I ate chana puri for breakfast, the van, about 8:30, headed south, then west on very poor roads to the small town of Chowkahm, and then southwest on a good paved road to the larger town of Namsai and the Arunachal Pradesh-Assam state border beyond. In Assam we passed extensive tea estates, which had in fact begun to be seen in Arunachal Pradesh before crossing into Assam, and teeming, chaotic Indian towns along the highway. A heavy rain started about 11, fifteen minutes or so before we reached Tinsukia, the van's destination. The workers in the tea estates had umbrellas attached to the baskets on their backs.
In Tinsukia I waited in the van until the rain subsided and then grabbed my wet backpack from the roof and jumped on a nearby bus heading west to Dibrugarh, about 35 miles away on the south bank of the Brahmaputra. The bus left at noon, with more rain and tea estates on the way to Dibrugarh. I also saw lots of baby goats on the way. Arriving in Dibrugarh about 1:30, with the rain now stopped, I hopped onto another bus heading to Sibsagar, about 45 miles south. The bus was very slow, making lots of stops. The sun came out, brightening the green landscape of tea estates and rice paddies. We arrived in Sibsagar, with about 65,000 people, about 4 and I checked into a very nice hotel for 1000 rupees, about $16, a night. Sibsagar is only about 30 miles east of Majuli Island in the Brahmaputra, where I had spent several days in early April, so I had almost completed a circuit around a long stretch of the Brahmaputra through Assam and Arunachal Pradesh.
For more than 600 years, from the 13th to 19th centuries, Sibsagar was the capital of the Ahom Dynasty that ruled Assam. About 4:30 I walked to the temple complex in town just south of the large rectangular reservoir, built by an Ahom queen in 1734, that gives the city its name, derived from "waters of Shiva." The towers rise south of the tank's southern bank, the tallest, Shivadol Mandir, in the middle, about 110 feet high. It is said to be India's tallest Shiva temple. The smaller temples on either side are dedicated to Vishnu and Durga.
A group of Krishna devotees was singing and playing instruments in an open sided pavilion in front of the sanctuary under the tall tower. Men played the instruments (two drummers, two cymbalists, and a violinist) while four women sang, one at a time. One of the four singers had a harmonium hanging on a strap around her neck, and she played that, too. They all, men and women, wore beautiful clothes. The women sang with great emotion, waving their hands above their heads at times. The performance was mesmerizing. Occasionally, they danced, and often when one had finished singing she hugged some of the other singers or some of the women sitting in front of them. I must have watched and listened to them for an hour or more.
I did walk into the dark, musty sanctuary under the tall tower. Gods are carved in relief in places on the interior stone walls. Near the center of the dark sanctuary, though it had electric lights, sat a priest next to a hole in the stone floor filled with flowers. A chubby, bare chested guy came in and prayed next to the hole, spraying perfume around it and tossing flowers into it. The frame of a large canopy stood over the hole and the whole center area of the sanctuary, and I noticed a pigeon resting on one of the metal cross poles.
I listened to the singers and musicians some more. At about 6 a new group took the place of the earlier performers. This group was all male, with a flutist in place of the violinist. These singers, too, were very good. I listened until about 6:30 and then left for a very good chicken and nan dinner in the restaurant of my hotel.
I relaxed the next morning at my hotel, reading newspapers and eating eggs and toast for breakfast. About 10 I took a tempo about two and a half miles west to the royal Rang Ghar pavilion. From this oval, two story pavilion Ahom monarchs watched buffalo and elephant fights. I looked around inside and out, with some light rain falling. The brick pavilion had interesting reliefs on its walls. On the grounds a modern plaster statue depicted a buffalo fighting an elephant. Another depicted a rhino fighting an unidentifiable, at least to me, animal. The grounds were very green, with a big lawn, moss on the brick walls surrounding the compound, and beautiful flame trees. As I left, baby goats, two of them just three weeks old, were being fed.
I walked past the nearby Golaghat, an Ahom stone ammunition dump not open to visitors, to the ruins of Talatal Ghar, a two story Ahom palace built by a mid-18th century Ahom king. In front of the palace ruins a vendor was selling books and posters of the Ahom kings, Tai people who arrived from Yunnan in China in the 13th century and ruled Assam until 1826. I wandered around the palace ruins, which were fairly interesting. I met two Sikh tourists, one from nearby Jorhat and his uncle from Delhi, the first recognizable tourists I had met since I was in Tawang three and a half weeks earlier. The sun was out and the air warm and humid, or as one of the Sikhs said, "sultry."
About 3 I took a tempo further west about six miles to Gaurisagar. The folks in the tempo were friendly, especially two teenage girls heading home from school. The sky clouded up again on the way. In the little town of Gaurisagar I explored three temples from the 1720's similar to those in Sibsagar and also built next to a large tank. They, too, had interesting bas reliefs. While walking to Vishnudol, the third and largest of the three temples, I came across a beautifully attired eight year old girl practicing a traditional dance on the lawn of her house, accompanied by a drummer. She was very good. I watched, as did her proud mother and aunt.
A guy on a motorcycle gave me a ride the short way along the edge of the tank to Vishnudol and we looked around, inside and out, as a light rain began to fall. Again, it had interesting bas reliefs, both inside and out. The motorcyclist then took me to a tea stop on the main road and then to a pavilion next door where the town was preparing to start a cultural presentation featuring Bihu dances. Bihu is Assam's biggest traditional holiday, celebrated April 14-15. I don't know why they were doing it a month late. I saw the eight year old girl again, preparing to perform with other girls in her dance group.
I was the only foreigner there and was given a seat up front and introduced to several people. The program started and I was introduced and brought up to the stage. I was given a traditional Assamese white kerchief with red trimming, worn by men all over Assam, to put around my neck. I made a short speech thanking them and saying how much I looked forward to seeing the performance and then was allowed to sit down again.
The first performance was by about 15 boys, with dancing and singing and drumming. Some girls joined them near the end. After about half an hour, about 5:30, the guy who had brought me on his motorcycle told me I had better leave if I wanted to catch the last tempo back to Sibsagar. A light rain was falling as the tempo left a little before 6, my fare of 15 rupees (about 25 cents) paid by the motorcyclist. I got back to Sibsagar about 6:30 and had another good dinner.
I was up the next morning at 6:30. A heavy rain was falling. I read the newspapers and had breakfast. The rain stopped before 10 and soon after 10 I walked to the bus station to see about buses. None were leaving because of a strike, not by bus drivers but by tea workers seeking higher pay. Most shops were shut, probably more for fear of damage than for solidarity with the tea workers.
I walked to the temple complex and spent about three hours there, for a long time under dark, cloudy skies with some rain. I wandered around all three temples, looking at the interesting bas reliefs and the temple activity and listening to the singers and musicians. People were friendly. No other tourists were around. I walked back to my hotel as the sky brightened and spent part of the afternoon in an internet café. Rain fell again.
About 4 I walked back to the temple and stayed till about 6. The same mesmerizing singers and musicians who had performed my first afternoon in Sibsagar were again performing, now before a bigger crowd. I stood, and later sat, and watched and listened. At times heavy rain fell, with thunder and lightning.
After a 20 minute meal stop, where I ate chana puri for breakfast, the van, about 8:30, headed south, then west on very poor roads to the small town of Chowkahm, and then southwest on a good paved road to the larger town of Namsai and the Arunachal Pradesh-Assam state border beyond. In Assam we passed extensive tea estates, which had in fact begun to be seen in Arunachal Pradesh before crossing into Assam, and teeming, chaotic Indian towns along the highway. A heavy rain started about 11, fifteen minutes or so before we reached Tinsukia, the van's destination. The workers in the tea estates had umbrellas attached to the baskets on their backs.
In Tinsukia I waited in the van until the rain subsided and then grabbed my wet backpack from the roof and jumped on a nearby bus heading west to Dibrugarh, about 35 miles away on the south bank of the Brahmaputra. The bus left at noon, with more rain and tea estates on the way to Dibrugarh. I also saw lots of baby goats on the way. Arriving in Dibrugarh about 1:30, with the rain now stopped, I hopped onto another bus heading to Sibsagar, about 45 miles south. The bus was very slow, making lots of stops. The sun came out, brightening the green landscape of tea estates and rice paddies. We arrived in Sibsagar, with about 65,000 people, about 4 and I checked into a very nice hotel for 1000 rupees, about $16, a night. Sibsagar is only about 30 miles east of Majuli Island in the Brahmaputra, where I had spent several days in early April, so I had almost completed a circuit around a long stretch of the Brahmaputra through Assam and Arunachal Pradesh.
For more than 600 years, from the 13th to 19th centuries, Sibsagar was the capital of the Ahom Dynasty that ruled Assam. About 4:30 I walked to the temple complex in town just south of the large rectangular reservoir, built by an Ahom queen in 1734, that gives the city its name, derived from "waters of Shiva." The towers rise south of the tank's southern bank, the tallest, Shivadol Mandir, in the middle, about 110 feet high. It is said to be India's tallest Shiva temple. The smaller temples on either side are dedicated to Vishnu and Durga.
A group of Krishna devotees was singing and playing instruments in an open sided pavilion in front of the sanctuary under the tall tower. Men played the instruments (two drummers, two cymbalists, and a violinist) while four women sang, one at a time. One of the four singers had a harmonium hanging on a strap around her neck, and she played that, too. They all, men and women, wore beautiful clothes. The women sang with great emotion, waving their hands above their heads at times. The performance was mesmerizing. Occasionally, they danced, and often when one had finished singing she hugged some of the other singers or some of the women sitting in front of them. I must have watched and listened to them for an hour or more.
I did walk into the dark, musty sanctuary under the tall tower. Gods are carved in relief in places on the interior stone walls. Near the center of the dark sanctuary, though it had electric lights, sat a priest next to a hole in the stone floor filled with flowers. A chubby, bare chested guy came in and prayed next to the hole, spraying perfume around it and tossing flowers into it. The frame of a large canopy stood over the hole and the whole center area of the sanctuary, and I noticed a pigeon resting on one of the metal cross poles.
I listened to the singers and musicians some more. At about 6 a new group took the place of the earlier performers. This group was all male, with a flutist in place of the violinist. These singers, too, were very good. I listened until about 6:30 and then left for a very good chicken and nan dinner in the restaurant of my hotel.
I relaxed the next morning at my hotel, reading newspapers and eating eggs and toast for breakfast. About 10 I took a tempo about two and a half miles west to the royal Rang Ghar pavilion. From this oval, two story pavilion Ahom monarchs watched buffalo and elephant fights. I looked around inside and out, with some light rain falling. The brick pavilion had interesting reliefs on its walls. On the grounds a modern plaster statue depicted a buffalo fighting an elephant. Another depicted a rhino fighting an unidentifiable, at least to me, animal. The grounds were very green, with a big lawn, moss on the brick walls surrounding the compound, and beautiful flame trees. As I left, baby goats, two of them just three weeks old, were being fed.
I walked past the nearby Golaghat, an Ahom stone ammunition dump not open to visitors, to the ruins of Talatal Ghar, a two story Ahom palace built by a mid-18th century Ahom king. In front of the palace ruins a vendor was selling books and posters of the Ahom kings, Tai people who arrived from Yunnan in China in the 13th century and ruled Assam until 1826. I wandered around the palace ruins, which were fairly interesting. I met two Sikh tourists, one from nearby Jorhat and his uncle from Delhi, the first recognizable tourists I had met since I was in Tawang three and a half weeks earlier. The sun was out and the air warm and humid, or as one of the Sikhs said, "sultry."
About 3 I took a tempo further west about six miles to Gaurisagar. The folks in the tempo were friendly, especially two teenage girls heading home from school. The sky clouded up again on the way. In the little town of Gaurisagar I explored three temples from the 1720's similar to those in Sibsagar and also built next to a large tank. They, too, had interesting bas reliefs. While walking to Vishnudol, the third and largest of the three temples, I came across a beautifully attired eight year old girl practicing a traditional dance on the lawn of her house, accompanied by a drummer. She was very good. I watched, as did her proud mother and aunt.
A guy on a motorcycle gave me a ride the short way along the edge of the tank to Vishnudol and we looked around, inside and out, as a light rain began to fall. Again, it had interesting bas reliefs, both inside and out. The motorcyclist then took me to a tea stop on the main road and then to a pavilion next door where the town was preparing to start a cultural presentation featuring Bihu dances. Bihu is Assam's biggest traditional holiday, celebrated April 14-15. I don't know why they were doing it a month late. I saw the eight year old girl again, preparing to perform with other girls in her dance group.
I was the only foreigner there and was given a seat up front and introduced to several people. The program started and I was introduced and brought up to the stage. I was given a traditional Assamese white kerchief with red trimming, worn by men all over Assam, to put around my neck. I made a short speech thanking them and saying how much I looked forward to seeing the performance and then was allowed to sit down again.
The first performance was by about 15 boys, with dancing and singing and drumming. Some girls joined them near the end. After about half an hour, about 5:30, the guy who had brought me on his motorcycle told me I had better leave if I wanted to catch the last tempo back to Sibsagar. A light rain was falling as the tempo left a little before 6, my fare of 15 rupees (about 25 cents) paid by the motorcyclist. I got back to Sibsagar about 6:30 and had another good dinner.
I was up the next morning at 6:30. A heavy rain was falling. I read the newspapers and had breakfast. The rain stopped before 10 and soon after 10 I walked to the bus station to see about buses. None were leaving because of a strike, not by bus drivers but by tea workers seeking higher pay. Most shops were shut, probably more for fear of damage than for solidarity with the tea workers.
I walked to the temple complex and spent about three hours there, for a long time under dark, cloudy skies with some rain. I wandered around all three temples, looking at the interesting bas reliefs and the temple activity and listening to the singers and musicians. People were friendly. No other tourists were around. I walked back to my hotel as the sky brightened and spent part of the afternoon in an internet café. Rain fell again.
About 4 I walked back to the temple and stayed till about 6. The same mesmerizing singers and musicians who had performed my first afternoon in Sibsagar were again performing, now before a bigger crowd. I stood, and later sat, and watched and listened. At times heavy rain fell, with thunder and lightning.
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