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Celebrating Aoling with Last of the Tattooed Headhunters of Nagaland

There are few life experiences that feel like time travel. Meeting with the Konyak tribe, the last of the tattooed headhunters of Nagaland, felt like this.

The Konyaks reside in the Mon district of Nagaland, also known as ‘The Land of the Anghs’ (Anghs are the village chiefs). Many of them are identifiable by their beautiful body tattoos and pierced ears. Facial tattoos are reserved for those who ‘earned’ them by taking the enemy’s head in the past — a tradition that got banned since the advent of Christianity in this region. Those with face tattoos are now octogenarians and the last surviving tattooed headhunters of Nagaland. Other practices such as gun-smithing, iron-smelting, brasswork, beadwork, and wood-sculpting continue to this day.

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The Angh of Wanchin

Traveling through Nagaland (for the first time) for the Aoling festival was like a cultural expedition, rich and vibrant in everything it had to offer — be it terrain, people, or food. It is celebrated in the first week of April every year to mark the completion of seed-sowing and is the biggest festival of the Konyaks. After experiencing the magic of the night-time in Kaziranga, and witnessing the fragility of life in Majuli, the third and final leg of my journey in the Northeast proved to be every bit worth the wait.

Camping Amidst Tea-Gardens in Shiyong

Bidding adieu to Assam and entering Mon meant passing by acres of tea gardens and local vegetable depots. We were going to be staying with Phejin Konyak, author of the book The Last of the Tattooed Headhunters.

We set up tents in her front garden, with a clear view of the tea estates on all sides. It was a breathtaking sight to wake up to, and the night was no different, with thousands of stars bidding us goodnight every night.

View of the tea estates from Phejin’s house

Phejin was kind enough to cook for us and we couldn’t have asked for anything more than traditional Naga cuisine at every meal: smoked pork, Mithun, and a wide selection of vegetarian accompaniments.

Being a Konyak herself, her great-grandfather was famous amongst the Konyaks and worked hard to abolish the headhunting culture of the tribe. Phejin is one of the few people actively working towards documenting and preserving their history and had plenty of anecdotes and stories to share (including instances of racism she faced in Delhi and Mumbai as a student).

Traditional needles used for carving tattoos

Her book The Last of the Tattooed Headhunters is a very detailed account of the history and culture of the Konyaks and is a must-read for anybody interested in learning more about them. What’s more, the book has some fine illustrations of the tattoos and stunning portraits of the Konyak people.

Meeting the Headhunters of Hongphoi & Wanchin

Our first tryst with the tattooed headhunters of the Konyak tribe was at Hongphoi. As we ventured into the village, we met the first octogenarian Konyak with a facial tattoo. With a wide smile, he was more than happy to get his photographs clicked. He couldn’t speak our language, and we, his, but the age-old wisdom on his face and the power of his personality was enough to leave us spellbound.

We proceeded into the Morung, where the Konyak boys used to live until they got married. There was a small fire lit in the middle of the hall, and a group of the tattooed headhunters gathered around it, sitting, chatting, and meditating. On one corner of the hall, was a big log drum, that the men later went on to play for us. Essentially a hollowed-out tea trunk, the men beat it with wooden hammer-like tools to produce deep sounds while chanting battle hymns (watch out for videos of this on my Instagram handle).

Last of the tattooed headhunters gathered in the Morung

Every face that greeted us seemed so full of wisdom, it made me wonder about the treasure trove of experiences they might have lived through, watching civilizations change in front of their eyes.

While the facial tattoos were only allowed for those who had taken an enemy’s head, the chest tattoos were meant for warriors. Many of them also wore tusks in their ears and neck, and traditional beaded necklaces with brass faces were a common sight. Some of them donned hats with feathers and tusks.

Tattooed headhunter with tusks in his ears

Wanchin, a small village near Shiyong, was our next stop. We were greeted by hundreds of children playing on a big ground, and ‘Top of the World’ by the Carpenters blowing through the speakers, giving the village an old-world carnival feel. The local University students had set up stalls for the younger children, and there were all kinds of innovative games to be played and prizes to be won (including washing powder and a brush)! An ancient tree stood on one side of the ground, once decorated with beheaded skulls, now a playing site for the kids.

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Game time for the kids

The Aoling festival time is marked by the Konyaks dressing up in traditional gear and beaded jewelry. Like in the case of major festivals in other parts of the country, be it Eid, Christmas, or Diwali, people visit each other’s houses to make merry and dine together. Alcohol is banned, especially during festival time.

Devoid of tourists and cut off from mainstream media, there was something very personal about celebrating with the locals in these tiny, off-grid villages. Some of the women were kind enough to perform a little song and dance for us and cajoled us into trying out a move or two with them.

Delighted to watch videos of themselves singing and dancing
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Time for a group photo!

We also met a lot of young Konyak men, dressed in traditional attire and carrying their shotguns, occasionally breaking into a dance and firing a shot or two. The ambiance was insane, and all we could do was follow them as they roamed around every nook and corner of their villages.

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Young Konyak boys with their guns

At night, we celebrated with the locals of Shiyong village, where we too played the log drum for over an hour with the kids. What fun!

Celebrating Aoling in the Wild East

After two days in Shiyong, we proceeded to Longwa, in the east of the district. While the festival celebrations in the villages we visited thus far were intimate and unassuming, the scale of things at Longwa was much bigger, and a bit more… wild. Located on the Indo-Burmese border, half this village falls in India and the other half in Myanmar.

Konyak women singing and dancing for the festival
The Queen of Longwa, originally from Arunachal Pradesh

Here, too, there were young Konyak men roaming around with their shotguns and shooting into the air. The celebrations were primarily outside the Angh’s house. Men and women had separate chambers, and while the women performed low-key, graceful songs and dances, the men’s chamber largely had traditionally dressed men sitting around a fire and smoking opium (a huge addiction in these regions). The men later came out in batches, with their guns and sears, marching in swirls through the village, singing battle hymns in local dialects, and occasionally firing into the sky.

The celebrations in Longwa felt grander and more aggressive than what we had witnessed in the western regions, though quite a spectacle and worth experiencing! (Watch out for videos of the celebrations on my Instagram handle).

Marching on with pride
Swirling with their weapons
Headhunters parading through the village

Watching the celebrations up close and personal felt like I was transported back to the 17th century. It was quite paradoxical to have the latest mobile phones and cameras share space with ancient guns and tusks, just like we, city-breds of the 21st century, were sharing space (albeit for a short while) with the last of the tattooed headhunters of Nagaland. This was indeed a once-in-a-lifetime experience!

Back to the 17th century

Walking Through the Indo-Burmese Border & Visiting the Gunsmith

Caught between India and Burma, it was no surprise to learn of the identity crisis and cultural conflict the local people face every day. While we personally didn’t face any kind of discrimination and were lovingly welcomed by everyone we met (in spite of what people from the Northeast have to go through in cities), it was apparent that most locals considered ‘India’ to be a different country altogether, not their own.

What struck me most about this conflict was that it wasn’t about development — of good roads and electricity and schools — but a matter of identity. It was an emotional war of the people against the state, like in so many other parts of the country. It was about having representation, a voice — to be heard, and respected.  It hurts to even think of when the last time a political leader visited these regions, let alone heard them out, or represented their needs in Assembly or Parliament. The paradox of democracy!

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Walking down from the Indo-Burmese border pillar. Photo credit: Nishant Sinha

As we walked through the village, and atop a hill to Pillar 155 marking the border between India and Burma, the view from above was stunning. With clouds floating past, and the lush green trees swaying to the cool breeze, overlooking both the Indian and Burmese sides of the village, it felt like a dream.

We also met a dozen children on the way, toddlers taking care of their little siblings while their mothers worked in the fields and fathers lay intoxicated. It was uncanny to not see a single baby cry (unlike in the cities), perhaps due to the peaceful surroundings and simple way of life in the region. The children appeared happy and content, climbing trees and playing innovative games with whatever they had. Offering them chocolates brought out squeals of laughter and excitement, and I wished we’d carried some more for them. It was every bit worth the smiles on their faces.

Elder sibling taking care of the younger one with grace
Innovative ways of entertaining themselves

As the festival celebrations came to an end and the Konyaks headed back to their respective homes, we were fortunate to visit a bunch of artisans: gunsmiths, brass-workers, and wood sculptors at their homes. We watched them work while taking a drag of opium through their carved bamboo bongs. To see such works of art being produced in a jiffy, under the dim light of a fire (barely any electricity in these regions) was truly fascinating!

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The Gunsmith… looks familiar? Scroll up to see him in a different avatar!
Young man smoking a Burmese cigar with much finesse

The Symbolic Naga Kitchen & Everything It Had to Offer

One of the many amazing experiences of this brief journey through Nagaland was the symbolic Naga kitchen. Similar to the Assamese kitchen, it constitutes the largest part of the house and is at the center of all social activity during the day and night. If one is awake, one is in the kitchen.

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Traditional Naga kitchen

The last leg of our trip was when we truly got to experience ‘the Naga kitchen’ and everything it had to offer. Staying at Jeilei’s homestay couldn’t have been a more ‘homely’ experience and was the most intimate one out of all our stays on this trip. While it was very basic in facilities (tiny twin rooms with wooden beds and a window with a picturesque view of the Naga hills) and two common (and, again, very basic) bathrooms for all inhabitants, it was definitely my favorite homestay for two reasons — the open kitchen and our hosts.

Jeilei’s homestay

The kitchen was a large area with beautifully woven moodas, a fireplace/chulha in the center, and a multi-layered platform hanging over the fire to roast and store meat. It was where we gathered whenever we were awake and indoors. By letting us into their kitchen at all times of the day, it felt like Jeilei and his family also let us into their lives.

Jeilei and family enjoying a meal

Jeilei, our host, would chit-chat with us, while his wife and 12-year old daughter Athon would whip up the most delicious meals, served in Burmese tin plates with cups of strong black tea. Red rice with dal and potato-pork curry became a staple during our time in Longwa, and we couldn’t have been happier!

Staple diet in Longwa

They say, in the olden days, warriors would gather around the fire and tell stories. While we weren’t warriors (and certainly don’t want any more wars), it was quite the old-world experience to gather around the fire every evening and share tales. 

Gun and headgear at the Angh’s residence

By now, our group consisted of 8 members (the latest addition being Arham, the ‘new’ ChaloHoppo guy) and we had spent a week traveling together, the unfamiliar becoming familiar, discovering and accepting each other’s quirks and idiosyncrasies with each passing day.

Athon, our host’s daughter, would join in on the daily banter, sitting there with her trademark smile. I’m not sure how much of the conversation she followed, but she soon became an integral part of each of those evening sessions, making us feel at home by her sheer presence.

Dinner with a headlamp

It’s in those moments that, we, strangers, became part of the environment, and the environment a part of us.

It’s what traveling to unfamiliar places and experiencing a life different from our own offers, pushing us out of our comfort zones, and quenching the curiosity of the soul. That feeling of being, of contentment, that is so hard to attain in this world of haste and difference.

As Pico Iyer writes, “Travel is a little bit like being in love. Suddenly all your senses are marked ‘on.’ You are alert to the secret patterns of the world.

My ten days in the Northeast cannot be described any other way and was every bit a sensory carnival, as much a journey within, as without.

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Related reading:
Witnessing the Fragility of Life at Majuli- the Largest River Island in the World
Magic of the Night-Time in Kaziranga
Of Silk, Sand & Skeletons: A Week in the Kingdom of Cambodia

18 comments on “Celebrating Aoling with Last of the Tattooed Headhunters of Nagaland

  1. The beautifully worded account actually took me on an amazing journey. Thank you.

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  3. I Ila, thanks for this amazing blog post. You have not mentioned anything about commuting to these vilages. I am assuming that you used private transport but is public or shared vehicles available?

    • Hi Ansh, I did this particular trip with a Northeast travel company called Chalohoppo. They brought together a group of 7 people and arranged for a private car for us. Public transport isn’t that great in these regions so I’d recommend going via a travel company. I highly recommend Chalohoppo.

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