An Assam classic: Where tradition serves as the only currency.
A version of this piece first appeared in Firstpost on February 3, 2019.
About 7 kilometres into a detour from the busy National Highway 37 in Assam’s Jagiroad, at a place called Dayang Belguri, colourful tents and a tall Ferris wheel adorn the horizon in preparation for a 500-year-old indigenous fair. Held since the early 17th Century (some accounts place its origin in the 15th Century), the Jonbeel festival, held this year from 17 to 19 January, is a three-day annual festival organised by the Tiwa tribe in Assam and Meghalaya.
Touted to be the only regular event on the planet where the barter system is still practiced, the Jonbeel festival attracts people in large numbers from Tiwa, Karbi, Khasi, Rabha and Jaintia communities living in the border villages of Meghalaya and Assam. Unsurprisingly, a lot of fresh produce and local poultry is on display during the festival, including some vegetables that are seldom sold commercially, but none of that is stuff money can buy.
The Jonbeel Mela is also an event that has kept the relevance of tribal kings alive, and features the Gobha king’s visit on the final day when he holds a durbar and listens to his people’s complaints. It is a time when the Tiwa community, which has split into Hills Tiwas and Plains Tiwas over the years, comes together to celebrate the harvest through community fishing, cockfights, dance and music.
This year’s Jonbeel festival — which also featured conspicuous undertones of the popular opposition to the recently-passed Citizenship (Amendment) Bill, 2016 that multiple tribes have already voiced their antipathy to — saw all of that, and some more.
Settling In
Groups of families from a particular hill town or village hire one truck to make the journey to the venue. It is often not an easy ride, as they have to fit all essentials and food supplies for three days, in addition to everything they intend to sell at the fest.
This group of Tiwa families just arrived in a truck from the hill town of Omburmund in Meghalaya, some 80 kilometres away from the venue. But this relatively short distance took them over 5 hours to cover, owing to bad roads. When asked if it was a difficult ride, the lady with her infant son on her back simply said, “No, it’s never difficult.”
The organisers provide each family with hay to help them build their temporary houses and later set up shop. Here is one such truck carrying hay beyond the permitted volume, but is left empty in under three minutes.
The Barter
The much-awaited exchange of vegetables and dried fish at the Jonbeel Mela begins hours before sunrise on the second day, just as the last Garo families make their way to the venue with sacks in their hands and infants on their backs. By 4.30am, the marketplace is bustling with people from over six different tribes and across age-groups, all trying to find a spot to set shop.
The hill platter: Tiwa and other tribespeople from the hills bring with them ginger, turmeric, taro, chillies, wild fruits, berries, among other things that grow primarily in higher altitudes. Very often, vegetables on display here are never spotted even in the local markets, the vendors confirmed.
The plains platter: Although most food items grown in the plains are now available in the hills as well, the barter system here features, among a few others, the following items representing the harvest in lower climes — pitha and other items made from rice flour, roasted rice flour, different breeds of sticky rice, rye and a variety of dried fish.
A barter in action: On the left of both pictures is Kon Sinh, from the Garo Hills in Meghalaya, attempting to strike a deal with Govinda Biswas from Assam’s Kalitakuchi on the right. Kon, who has come down to the fest with ginger, turmeric, chillies and gourds, lays out (left pic) 15 bunches of homegrown ginger on Govinda’s mat. In return, Govinda lays out (right pic) 15 bunches of home-dried fish and closes the deal in the agreed 1:1 ratio.
Although Kon cries foul and jokes that his cat can finish all the fish in one go, Govinda reminds him that “we’re not here for a profit or loss, we are here to have fun”. As Kon gets up to leave, he looks at the camera to say that next year will be his, after terrible sales this time.
Finders keepers. In the absence of a rulebook to guide the trade here, you can exchange anything for the biggest piece of taro on offer. Also, in the absence of weighing equipment (which are redundant in such trade), it is anybody’s guess how big the biggest taro is.
People of Jonbeel
As Laichong Mithi prepares her tomato gravy for an early lunch on the first day of the festival, she says that coming to the Jonbeel Mela was never a ritual before she got married to Phulbor, whose Tiwa family has been partaking in the annual barter for generations. Hailing from Balikunji, a hill town 4 hours away, Phulbor has been coming to the fest all his life, first accompanying his father and later his wife, to sell ginger, turmeric and chillies that grow in his backyard. Both Phulbor and Laichong agree that the Mela has changed face over the years, with the inclusion of “many people who are neither from the hills not the Indian plains”.
“It takes a long time to reach here, and the bumpy roads make it worse. But some rice beer will make you strong and let you forget the hardships in life,” a mirthful Metheka Bura said, immediately inviting a frown from his sister Soraibaha. The Karbi family of 6, from the town of Khetri, is here to take back clothes for Metheka’s 6-month-old grandson who was left behind at home with his father.
When 28-year-old Mohammed Riyazul Islam is not busy running his electronics store in the adjacent town of Jagiroad, he works as the town secretary of the Asom Gana Parishad — a political party which recently snapped ties with the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party over the Citizenship (Amendment) Bill, 2016. He said, “Some people (in this festival), sporting beards and lungis, may appear to be from across the border. But we are not, although we have to deal with such torment on a daily basis.
Assam already has enough Bangladeshis and we do not need more. The chief minister is going to come to this Mela on the third day, but he has no face to show after his party destroyed the demographics of the state. It will only get uglier from here.” Riyazul, who is a regular to the Jonbeel Mela, expects a peaceful protest upon the chief minister’s arrival on Saturday, and said that he would join the protesters if the police allow.
The Jonbeel Mela this year saw participation from outside the Northeast as well. Mithilesh Chowa (right), who hops from festival to festival selling fabric, reluctantly admitted that he hails from Siwan in Bihar. “It is my first time here, but I tell people that I live in Jagiroad. You never know who will get angry on the mention of Bihar,” he said.
Community fishing
On the second day of the Mela, members from every Tiwa family, and dozens of other communities in the region, come out to catch freshwater fish at the beel (lake). Other than children and the occasional reporter, everyone has a fishing net in their hand, a bag tied to the waist to carry the fish, and a song on their lips. It is a day when everyone comes out to have some fun, knowing full well that the lake is highly unlikely to have fish for all of them.
The fisherwomen of Belguri: Women from the Tiwa community, all from nearby villages, come to fish during the harvest Bihu every year. “Looking at the number of people who have come out today, it doesn’t look like the lake will have enough to offer. But fish or no fish, we come more to maintain a tradition than to fix the dinner menu,” 40-year-old Saela said, as her friends waited for the clock to strike 10 to begin fishing.
Without warning, groups of 30 to 40 people jump into the freezing water with their nets, searching the shallow lake for small fish. As their songs get louder, so does their xenophobic cursing aimed at the fisherfolk clad in lungis.
It is a difficult day to be a fisherman with a beard (or a lungi), given the consistent “Go back to Bangladesh” chants one gets to hear from the advancing crowd of amateur fishermen. This gentleman (in pic) remained on his makeshift seat for over two hours, patiently dipping his net back into the water every time it fails to catch fish, and occasionally lifting his gear out of water to make way for the fishermen on foot.
Traditions to-go
The Tiwa tribe is said to have one of the richest cultures of folk songs and dance in the region, a glimpse of which was on display during the festival as well. About ten separate groups from both hill and plain Tiwa communities performed in traditional attire on the second day, stressing on the need to preserve some half-forgotten customs.
Another item in the list of traditional events that the Jonbeel Mela boasts of keeping alive is the local cockfight, held on the second day of the fest. Although raising foul for fighting is an ancient practice in the region, cockfights have not always been a regular feature in the Mela, according to participants at the venue.
Men from surrounding hills and villages come with their pet cockerels to a cockpit inside the festival’s venue. As adjudicators — who double as veterinary experts — tie blades to the fowl’s feet, spectators bet (in pic) against their favourite cockerels before and during the (often bloody) fights. After the fight, the owner of winning cock gets to keep both participants.
Kings and men
Gobha king Deep Sinh Dewari is a young leader of the Tiwa community of Assam and Meghalaya. “I would prefer it if you didn’t record. I’m not too good on camera,” the young, camera-shy king says as he prepares to oversee the conduct of yet another Jonbeel Mela.
“The festival is now bigger than it ever was before, partly because of its growing popularity outside our region and party due to government help,” the Gobha king said. The magnitude of the fest is only a reflection of multiple other customs that have evolved, including the graduation from an elephant to a car as the king’s preferred mode of transport.
The present king is also the first one to be a son of another king. Until his father’s turn, the Tiwa tribe observed the unique custom where the king’s sister’s son succeeded the ruling leader. But that hasn’t made his job any easier. Being made king at age 6 after his father’s demise, the Gobha king has had to follow a long list of traditions to win the respect of his people, including several restrictions such as not getting employed in a day job.
But the people are the true king, the Gobha king says. When asked about his position on the Citizenship (Amendment) Bill that several Tiwa people voiced their opposition against, he settled by saying, “I will support whatever the people want.” This was two days before Assam chief minister Sarbananda Sonowal, who is spearheading the Bill, made his visit to the Jonbeel Mela, doling out cheques to a dozen kings from across the region. The government, at the function, announced an allowance to the kings whereby they will be paid a less-than-kingly sum of Rs 5,000 every month.
The chief minister, who entered in a 35-car-convoy amid already-heavy security, invoked the central and state schemes implemented by his party over the last five years in his speech and talked about how the Opposition parties are misdirecting the narrative on the Citizenship (Amendment) Bill, but his speech found little mention of the festival he was attending or the tribes which were making it happen.
Life at Jonbeel
With minimal or no help from the organisers and volunteers, it was up to the vendors’ families to build their own huts for the duration of the fest, but it was not an exercise any of them took up with horror or unease. With the same bamboo sticks and coconut ropes available, there were contrasting architectural styles on display, often reflecting a tribe’s norm. Also on display were flags or animals made of hay stuck to poles to help family members find their way to the hut in the crowded event.
With only a few water-taps available to the several hundred participants, it was always a race to the open taps or the makeshift washrooms through the day.
Smoked pork, smoked local chicken, smoked shrimps and smoked crabs. Over 50 food outlets spread across the venue served these traditional smoked meats all day, along with bottles of the very popular homemade rice beer and other ethnic dishes.
By nightfall every day, the festival changed character and transformed into what is more typically understood by the term ‘mela’. Magic shows (in pic), cotton candy stores, mini carousels and a large Ferris wheel replaced everything traditional that was seen in the mornings, and the transformation brought with it huge crowds from the nearby Assamese towns.