Tag Archives: Uncle Moosa

Wakro – a Prelude

Let’s first put a few realities on the table. Not many tourists have Arunachal Pradesh on their travel agenda. Which is just as good for those of us who want to keep their special discoveries all to ourselves!

And if you felt that there is a Tawang, that does catch a few tourists in the peak season, the truth is that there are many more such pearls tucked away in a green oyster that takes more than a touristy attempt at discovery. Scouring for the most popular North-east travel itineraries from the net or walking up to the travel agent office, down the road, will not yield much more than the West Arunachal  circuit of Tawang and Bomdila. Which is why we headed to the North-East – to the East of North-East.
Racing across the map

Racing across the map

So what do I now have to offer which I haven’t already shared with you. We spent a few moments at the War cemetery at Digboi, drove up the  Stillwell road till the Pangsau Pass at the Indo-Burmese border, played with the butterflies and dodged a few leeches in the woods of Namdapha, crossed the Lohit to reach Tezu, headed all the way up to Walong, reached out to distant Kaho and Kibithu and almost caught the first sun rays to fall on the Indian subcontinent.
Wakro, Arunachal pradesh (Google Map)

Wakro, Arunachal pradesh (Google Map)

There is still something left to be told, something really substantial and special that was, in fact, the reason that had us pack up our bags and head out to Arunachal in the first place – Wakro.
For starters, it happens to be one of the realities that we placed early on the table. Seeing it on the Google map is the stuff that gets the traveller in you to sit up. Typing in just Arunachal Pradesh on Google maps and without zooming in any further, you realise that Wakro is the furthest east that you can get anywhere in India. So much so that half of Burma, including Yangon, lies to its west. So, when we drove into Wakro in Jayanto da’s jeep, we knew we were in the east…seriously east.
As we climb down the mountains - Lohit river

As we climb down the mountains – Lohit river

Descending the last few bends in the ghat from our long drive from Walong, we passed the Demwe point where one road went on to Tezu and the other headed to Parshuram Kund. We took the latter and, shortly, reached the new bridge that sprawled across over the Lohit. All along the climb up to Walong and down it, watching the river from the IB at Walong and crossing over it on the hanging bridges, we had seen Lohit in all its many moods. But this was different. We were staring down at it from really up close and from the ‘comforts’ of a concrete bridge.
Parashuram kund bridge

Parashuram kund bridge

Ahead, the famous sight of Parshuram’s axe embedded in the river bed heightened the drama that was already quite dramatic. We parked our Scorpio at the base of the bridge, climbed a few steps till we reached a temple. There were a few men dressed in saffron sitting around a Banyan tree.
Walking to the ghats

Walking to the ghats

We walked further, passed another temple, and a few more smaller shrines,  and proceeded to climb down the steps that were built to accommodate the thousands who flock here every January during Makarsakranti to take a dip in the freezing waters of Lohit. For now, we were the only people around.
The temples, shrines and holy men on the way to the kund

The temples, shrines and holy men on the way to the kund

Every year, Parshuram Kund Mela is organized  in the month of January from 13th to 15th. On Makar Sankranti day, large numbers of devotees come here to take their holy bath. Legend says that when Parshuram killed his mother with an axe at the behest of his father, the axe got stuck to his hands. In order to get rid of the axe, and the sin of killing his mother, he came to Brahma Kund where he took a dip in the holy water. Magically, the axe immediately fell from his hands. He picked up the axe and threw it as far as he could into the mountains. The axe split the mountains, and the spot where it fell became the Brahmaputra River.
The axe seen from the Parasuram Kund bridge

The axe seen from the Parasuram Kund bridge

Beyond the Parshuram Kund, the Lohit River is known as Brahmaputra.
Jayantoda told us an interesting fact about Parshuram Kund. During Makarsakranti, only those whose parents have passed away can take a dip in the Lohit River at the Parshuram Kund. The rest take a dip across the Kund in the Brahmaputra River.
The iconic 'axe' at Parasuram Kund

The iconic ‘axe’ at Parasuram Kund

Down at the last few steps just above the river, we felt the naked fury of the Lohit as the blacks, the dark greens and the frothy whites all tossed up as if in a super strong blender. In front of us, the “axe” with its jagged edges protruded resolutely over the swirling waters.
Close encounters with the 'axe'

Close encounters with the ‘axe’

Wakro was just 20 km up ahead. A brief stop for a cup of tea later, we were crossing the Kamlang bridge and waiting with bated breath for the first sight of Uncle Moosa’s ‘home’ town. Uncle, an Arunachali at heart and by the sheer fact that the last 30 years of his life have been spent in Arunachal and among its lovely people, currently works and lives in Wakro.
From here on Lohit is known as Brahmaputra

From here on Lohit is known as Brahmaputra

For the next five days we would be with Uncle, sharing or rather encroaching upon his space, spending time with him at the Apne library, with his books, with his little patrons from Apna Vidya Bhavan and Kasturba Gandhi Balika Vidyalaya, with the wonderful staff of these fine two schools and, never the least, the two remarkable people who started and run these excellent institutions under the Anu Shiksha Seva Trust (ASSET) with the graceful blessings of His Holiness Swami Sri Sri Anubhavananda Saraswatiji.
Well, that will need a whole lot of a chapter.
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With Uncle Moosa and friends in Tezu

            

It all began with our Uncle. Uncle Moosa we call him. Not just us. Most of East Arunachal calls him that – and for good measure.

Uncle Moosa a.k.a Sathyanarayanan Mundayoor

It is Uncle, as part of a select band of social missionaries, who took a good part of two generations of the region on that delightful journey from A to B (and beyond!) And we are not even talking distances here. Which is what, usually, you would worry about when you think of a trip to Arunachal Pradesh.

Uncle quit a plush job in one of the most coveted of organizations – the Income Tax. While many were eager to land a job as an I.T.O., he quit it. That was not where his place was, he felt. Even as he did an M.A. in linguistics and bided his time there, bigger plans and a dream was preparing  him for what he knew was his true calling.

One day he got the call. There was no caller ID those days. But he made out that it was from his inner self. He picked that, and a couple of bags, up and set out for that frontier where he saw the sun of his dreams rise. The destination was Arunachal Pradesh and the work cut out. Those were the early days of Vivekananda Kendra’s forays into lettering the North East and Uncle wanted to be a part of that movement. He, with a committed brethren of teachers and social activists, spent over 3 decades in the region – setting up schools, teaching and sculpting a future for generations.

32 years and thousands of students later, Sathyanarayanan Mundayoor a.k.a Unni a.k.a Uncle Moosa a.k.a Uncle Sir is pretty much an establishment himself. Only, now he has shed the Kendra’s banner and has donned another which hangs cheerfully outside his modest but neat library-cum-residence in Wakro, in Lohit district in eastern Arunachal– one of the thirteen small but purposeful reading rooms that he set up, almost single-handedly, in the remotest villages of the Lohit and Anjaw districts.

Uncle Moosa’s Calling Cards

Uncle has a simple yet meaningful enough explanation of his move from the Kendra to starting the library movement in the state. This was, he said, a change from a big umbrella to a smaller umbrella. He felt his role in his earlier avatar had ended and that he just had to begin something new. To do that, he felt it was time for the smaller umbrella to unfold.

Lest he should tick us off for attributing the success of the library movement only to him, a quick clarification. It would also not have been possible but for the contributions – much needed funds, encouragement and physical volunteering – by his countless well-wishers all over Arunachal and the rest of India, and well the world. If one’s deeds were to be the measure of one’s stature, Uncle Moosa towers above most everyone we have met!

And it was Wakro, his present base, that we were eventually headed towards. There were still a few more places to be covered before that – Tezu, the many small villages along the Lohit; Walong and further up all the way to the Chinese border. These were more than lovely, lesser known places (which is what travellers like us seek them out for). For someone like Uncle, these were the outposts that needed all the support required to spread the light of learning and knowledge – places that his library movement had been blessed by. Each of these libraries had been set up by him (and, directly or indirectly, by his small but committed band of well-wishers, patrons and volunteers) in all those long, relentless trips made to these remote parts, carrying books and other material mostly by himself.

For anyone who thinks a trip to East Arunachal is easy, it is not. Unlike Tawang or Itanagar, this part of the state actually is not on travel agent itineraries. There aren’t even many options to stay…and certainly no hotels or resorts – something that, thankfully, we were not affected by. For, we had already got to sample some of the amazing social fare that Uncle has been instrumental in whipping up in East Arunachal. Our innerline permits, the logistics of our transportation, the social support we had en route to Pangsau…these otherwise formidable hurdles were, as if, never there. We are not sure how much Uncle realizes it, but for even someone as unstoppable and irrepressible as him, his reputation continues to precede him. And we were certainly not complaining! The warmth and affection with which we were received everywhere were ample proof of that – and we were more than happy to be the unwitting beneficiaries of that largesse.

We were back on the road again. Our “stroll down the Stilwell memory lane” and “the walk in the woods” in remote Namdapha brought us out via Bordumsa to the Mahadevpura border of Arunachal Pradesh, thanks to Jayanto da and his trusted Scorpio. A brief stop for lunch at a cross between a restaurant and a dhaba in Bordumsa was fulfilling.

Lunch at Bordumsa

Crossing the new bridge on the Lohit and passing the newer still the Golden Pagoda at Tengapani, we reached Chongkham. From the bridge, the monastery complex glistened in the evening sun.

Chongkham Buddha Vihara

At the crossroads, one road led to Wakro and Parasuramkund, the other towards the Pagla Ghat. As we were headed to meet Uncle in Tezu, we took the latter, enthused by the idea of the ferry crossing, with us and our vehicle in tow.

Ghat crossing across the Pagla Nadi

As with all ghat crossings, patience and luck are just as important as the ferry and the boatman! We were a little short of the former but were still blessed with some good fortune. A cool wind blew over the feisty Pagla Nadi (the mad river – named aptly so) and there weren’t too many people waiting to get across.

While waiting to get across

But it was a rare sight of the sun and the moon in the sky above that we were treated with. If the sunset on our left was blazing, the moon up above was a cool white.

Sun goes down…

The short cruise over the Pagla river was the stuff that indelible travel memories are made of. The sun was down but only just to cast a dull golden filigree over the wavy waters. Very few of us talked. Fewer still clicked pictures. That was not entirely surprising, given that this part of the state were, mercifully, not run over by tourists – yet.

…and the moon goes up

Over at the other bank, we drove through pitch darkness across the sandy terrain for a few kilometers till we joined the road that came from Sunpura and headed for Tezu. An hour into the ride, the first signs of the headquarters of the Lohit district could be seen in the failing light.

Tezu town, headquarters of Lohit district

It’s not hard to like Tezu. It looked like one of those quiet cantonment towns, leafy and wooded. With the sun all but down, the shutters also fell in the shops on the main street. We were to meet Uncle at the library and spend the evening amidst books and children. But the ride from Miao and the ghat crossing had taken longer than we had thought. So we decided to meet him at the Circuit House and catch up on the library visit early next morning.

Circuit House, Tezu

The Circuit House itself was an expansive affair, located as it was on a large plot by the roadside. Almost colonial in its build, the rooms are spacious if basic. Anyway, there aren’t very many accommodation options in Tezu, otherwise. That kind of puts things in perspective and makes you want to be contented with what there is. By the way, it’s not easy to get a room in these, otherwise, government accommodations. And we had Uncle to thank for this.

He met us shortly after. It had taken us a long time to answer his invite. Every letter, mail, phone call, face to face chat would inevitably end with his asking us to come over and visit his beloved Arunachal. Over the years, the priority of this journey had got beaten up, and down, by many other commitments that come in the guise of practicality and everyday compulsion. But as so often happens in fiction – but rarely in real life – the good finally prevailed and our Arunachal trip materialized.

In and around the Circuit House

In the warm confines of our room, we sat talking, catching up on his work and filling him in with our eventful first three days of our trip. We were soon joined by his dear friends and well-wishers – Moyum an erstwhile student of Uncle and now working in the Land Management Department of the DC’s office in Tezu; Bapen another ex-student and herself well settled as an Urban Planning Officer (UPO) of Anjaw district; and, last but not the least, the smiling and unassuming Etalo, volunteer library activist and in charge of Bamboosa Library from its inception. We basked in the collateral regard and affection that these special friends of Uncle’s extended us and we opened up to them with the ease that you could only do, instantly, to Arunachalis.

We were in for yet another pleasant surprise. Just when we were feeling the effects of our lunch at Bordumsa waning, Uncle told us of what lay ahead for the evening. Hearing of our visit from Moyum, her friend and colleague, Basila didi had graciously offered to host us all for an authentic Mishmi dinner.  It seemed that no time was being wasted in our being able to sample the flavour of our new destination – and we were grateful to Moyum and our host for the evening.

Basila didi lives in her Mishmi home in Tezu with her two children. Along with Moyum, she too works at the Land Management Department of the DC’s office in Tezu and is a well-wisher and a voluntary activist of the Bamboosa library. We walked into a house that was beautiful not just on account of the festivities of the Pooja season but also by virtue of Didi and her two adorable children.

from L to R clockwise – Dhekiya fern; Pooja offerings; Pooja decorations; Bhoot Jhalokia

For us, to say the very least, it was all utterly overwhelming. The day had begun with a farewell to Namdapha, a goodbye to the lovely Phupla Singpho family, a hearty ethnic lunch in Bordumsa, a memorable ghat crossing, a touching reunion with Uncle in his own special backyard…and now this. Being invited home by someone who we had never spoken to till then and being served authentic, delicious local cuisine in a chang-ghar…life doesn’t bless you with many of such days.

At Basila didi’s home; huddling around the Chang-ghar

A word on the setting of the dinner and the food itself. The chang-ghar is, in these parts, an elaborate wooden structure built on stilts. Inside, the kitchen occupied one part of the room while in the middle was a hearth with a warm fire. We huddled around that and had what was, probably, one of the most memorable meals of our lives. A lal chai (black tea) and some small talk later, Basila didi’s main course arrived. Delectable dhekiya (fern) sabzi with a dal were suitable accompaniments for white sticky rice. But it was a tentative bite of the infamously hot Bhut Jhalokia pickle that set our mouths on fire, almost blowing the roofs of our palates sky high. We could barely murmur our profound appreciation and thanks for the meal and the exquisite gale (the local colourful skirt) that Didi presented. It was too much of an occasion not to be consigned to posterity.

The next day was when we would set off early morning for a long and exciting drive all the way to Walong. When that kind of a day is preceded by one as eventful as this, it’s a long night that separates the two. But we were tired…and tired we didn’t want to be tomorrow. Back at the Circuit House, it didn’t take long for the lights to be put out for the day.

A word also on our miss of the day. Dawns break early in that part of the country. We were earlier still. We wanted to drive in to Walong and see it while it was still light.

Bamboosa Youth Library, Tezu

But before our long journey east, there was one important thing left to be done.

The Bamboosa Library. We were eager to put a form to what we had heard Uncle tell us about it all these years!  Established on May 19, 2007, this was the first endeavour as part of the AWIC – VT Youth Library Network. Run by the Vivekananda Trust, headquartered in Mysore, there are now 13 of these mini libraries spread across the Lohit and Anjaw districts…most of them in the far flung villages higher up in the hills. There is more beyond the books stacked neatly in the shelves. There are frequent book exhibitions, reading sessions, workshops on improving reading skills, cultural and sports programmes, environmental awareness and much more.

Bamboosa Library, Tezu; Clippings, letters and mementos

The library itself is housed alongside a computer training school. Decked up with drawings and sketches and poems and photos and newspaper clippings, it is the true altar of the written word. Etalo, the resident head priest of this temple of books, joined us there soon after. There was already one keen young book lover and keeper of the keys, Purbi, already there. We spent a good part of an hour there lost among books, chatting up with the intent library volunteers and Uncle himself.

We wanted to stay back a little more but were happy that we could, at last, get here and see for ourselves the ground Uncle and his movement had covered. For someone who deeply believes in children and wants to get them to fall in love with books, the ultimate payoff would be for the young minds to recognise books as their soul-mates. That, for Uncle Moosa, is job done!

With the library activists at Bamboosa Library, Tezu; Moyum, Uncle Moosa, Etalo and Purbi

It was a long day ahead and, shortly, we were on the road again. As we passed the road that wound up to the serene Tafragam village, we remembered Uncle telling us of the even more serene VKV girls school up above. That would have to wait for a later visit to Tezu.

For now, we were headed for Walong. Names that we had till then only seen on the map or heard from Uncle were now on the road ahead. Hayuliang, Hawai, Walong, Kibithu, Kaho…the places would change, but there was one constant that would be a part of our 200 km drive up. And that was the Lohit – the river both beautiful and tempestuous, gushing down all the way from China and flowing into the Brahmaputra.

And then, in less than a week, we would be in Wakro! We would be with Uncle again and this time sharing his space with him – spending time with him at the Apne library, with his books, with his little patrons from Apna Vidya Bhavan and Kasturba Gandhi Balika Vidyalaya, with the wonderful staff of these fine schools and, never the least, the two remarkable people who started and run these excellent institutions. But that will be quite another story and we will tell it once we reach Wakro.

For now, we were glad we were, finally, in Arunachal and with our dear Uncle Moosa!


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