CHAPTER THREE

The Jungle

 

THE INDIAN TRADITION is for the eldest brother to escort the new bride from the in-laws back to her parent’s home. Sudha’s older brother was studying in Germany at the time, so it was left to her younger brother Dinesh to go and retrieve her. He was only nine years old and had never been away from his mother, so being in a strange place was quite traumatic for him. Nevertheless it was very embarrassing for Sudha because he behaved quite like a naughty nine year old.

Upon his arrival, rather than respectfully greeting her new family members, he just marched straight toward his big sister and plopped himself in her lap. The scene turned even more comical that evening, when at bedtime he insisted on sleeping next to the new bride. Although they all tried, no amount of bribery with toys or games would make him change his mind. After hours of a stubborn standoff, he eventually had his way, sleeping between Sudha and her new uncomplaining husband. He awoke in a cheerful mood the next morning as if nothing had happened and the two of them prepared for the trip back to Agra.

On the train ride Sudha prepared herself for the emotional farewell awaiting her. Saying goodbye to her beloved parents was going be very hard. It suddenly seemed all wrong‚ going off into the far yonder leaving an ailing father and a very worried mother. She was so absorbed in these thoughts and doubts that she was happy to have her naughty brother in tow. Keeping an eye on him and his antics gave her something to do with the hours besides wallow in worry and self-pity.

Back in Agra, Sudha was relieved to see her father’s health had clearly improved. He looked better and was now ambulatory. She enjoyed these last “single” days, spending every minute she could with her father before KC arrived. He supervised the packing of all the wedding gifts plus domestic articles, linens, and so forth, ensuring that his daughter’s new life would be comfortable.

Sudha assessed from KC’s bachelor attitude that the house in the remote region they were heading would be spartan to say the least. Her mother’s practicality came to the rescue in deciding on the absolute necessities, but her father insisted on buying them a battery radio, knowing there would be no electricity in Pasighat. As she packed her favorite books, she became quite nostalgic, remembering all the remarkable journeys she had embarked on, the mysteries she solved with Agatha Christie, the adventures she had with Edgar Rice Burrough’s Tarzan. And of course there was the richness of Hindi literature, which she had always enjoyed with rapt attention.

While they carefully wrapped articles and packed them into what would turn out to be twenty boxes, her father performed a wonderful job of easing her guilt. In fact he seemed quite relieved that his main responsibility, successfully marrying his daughter off, had been accomplished and that he had the opportunity to send her off to a new life with all his blessings.

KC arrived after several days and her time was then divided between packing and socializing with all the family, friends, and acquaintances, who had assembled to see them off. KC was charming and completely in his element. She was learning how very social her new husband was, comfortable in any situation and always happy to meet new people and talk about himself and his work. But by week’s end, it was clear, KC was anxious to get on the road. They said their adieus and headed for the train station, where they boarded the train to Lucknow.

Sudha’s head was whirling as they settled into their sleeper compartment for the two-night journey. This was really the first time they were alone and for that matter one of the few times in their marriage that they were by themselves for so long. Sudha got to know so much more about her new husband and what his life had been like growing up as one of nine children. Although he seemed to enjoy talking about himself and the attention she was giving him, she could see that sitting still for this long was torturous to this highly energetic person. At each stop, as soon as the train came to a halt, he would hop off and race around the platforms, mingling with the locals and procuring every local delicacy and fruit available. He’d stay out until the very last minute, leaving his new wife to wonder each time if the train would move on without him.

When they reached Lucknow, they stopped for a couple of days to visit KC’s younger brother, who was a local judge, before resuming their journey on the narrow rail train. Back then, it was the only train that went in the direction of Assam. It had smaller coaches and ran at lower speeds. For this leg of the journey, KC put on his tour guide hat and as they passed through state after state he pointed out the changing topography, identifying all the rivers and tributaries of the Ganga that crisscross the Indo-Gangetic plain. As they travelled more off the beaten track toward Assam, known as the gateway to the North East, they were having a grand time. Sudha was captivated by the drastic change of scenery: low green hills, vast tea plantations, and scenic rivers.

He also gave her a crash course in the Assamese language, teaching her the very basics and interpreting conversations around them. Assam is bisected by the Brahmaputra River that flows across southern China, breaks through the Himalayas in great gorges, and then flows southwest through Assam and into the Bay of Bengal, where it merges with the Ganges to form a vast delta. When they reached the crossing of this mighty river, there was no bridge and the passengers were required to disembark the train, cross the river on a rickety ferry, and board the new train on the other side. From there they carried on through the magnificent terraced tea gardens to the end of the rail line, the capitol city of Jorhat.

In Jorhat, they were met by KC’s official entourage and taken to a quaint little rest house to wait for the inclement weather to clear. In the northeast of India the weather is very uncertain. It is like a tropical forest. It rains almost every day and it is between these rains that the aircrafts travel. It turned out that they would wait three days touring around the small historic town and the surrounding tea plantations and meeting up with the multitudes of people KC knew, who invited them for various teas and meals in their honor.

After having KC completely to herself for days on the train, she thought she was just beginning to know her new husband, but in Jorhat Sudha saw a totally different man. As he sprang into action, arranging this and ordering that, his attention completely shifted. He was so involved in the official business at hand, the weather pattern, how the baggage was to go and what official positions were waiting for him, he no longer had no time for her. At first she tried to keep up with him while taking in her new surroundings, but soon she was left very much on her own. Sudha was discovering that her husband was a born leader and organizer and he expected that people would follow suit. He had become so used to having his orders obeyed after years in the army and at the seat of command in his present position that he assumed his new wife would follow silently and obediently. She knew that her husband would need to rethink this strategy. She was not raised or destined to be that subservient. The personality clashes began. She soon realized she would have to assert herself when she wanted things her way or she would be left to wing it alone, as she did in Jorhat.

On the third morning they awoke to a small break in the clouds and KC summarily arranged a flight to Pasighat, their final destination. What he didn’t tell her till they reached the airstrip was this was to be a flight on an aging WW2 Dakota. The Dakota was a military transport work plane widely used in the Second World War for everything from transportation to dropping paratroopers. Their Dakota had no doors because doors interfered with its primary function: disgorging food parcels in remote areas. Sudha had never been on a plane before, but she had been to the airport in Delhi to see her father off when he travelled abroad and therefore she was familiar with commercial aircraft and standard tarmac runways. She could not believe her first airplane experience was to be in an outdated work plane with a non-pressurized cabin and no doors.

While KC was organizing the loading and securing of baggage and food and packets that had to be dropped along the way, she was left on her own to board the aircraft. She had always envisioned her first airplane experience; walking into a pleasant cabin section and sitting in a proper seat, but when she managed to hoist herself up, all she saw was a skeletal metal space stacked with various crates of canned food and satchels of rice that were to be dropped off after they deplaned. The only place to sit appeared to be some fold-down bucket seats lining the sides. Keeping her apprehension to herself (the pilot was at his controls), she pulled one of the seats down, strapped herself in and waited for KC.

Just as with the train, Sudha began to wonder if the plane would take off without her husband, but true to form, right as they were preparing to leave he jumped in and strapped himself into the seat beside her. Then he smiled at her reassuringly. There was nothing else to do so she closed her eyes for takeoff and looked forward to a grand view hoping to survive.

Right from the start the ride was turbulent, bumpy, and uncomfortable. KC and the pilot appeared unfazed. Sudha held her breath, reciting her mantras and praying as the plane shuddered and groaned. Seeing the terror in her eyes, KC tried to assure her all would be well as he good-naturedly pointed out landmarks below. She was having serious second thoughts about this mad venture she had embarked on. After what seemed an eternity—in reality only an hour and a half—they began their descent. Sudha prayed and chanted even more fervently as the “runway” came into view; it was more like a strip of cleared tropical forest with PSP sheets, strips of iron with circular holes in them, laid across lengthwise. As they landed and taxied across, the metal strips made the most god-awful clatter she had ever heard. At last the plane taxied to a stop and Sudha thanked the gods, each and every one of them, for delivering her in one piece.

Sudha shakily followed her energized husband out the plane hatch to find a large welcoming committee comprised of tribal headmen, interpreters, and guides, as well as the police. They were enthusiastically greeted in both languages, tribal and Hindi, the tribal leaders garbed in colored loincloths, the government representatives dressed in their official uniform, a knee-length, woven red coat. This was a welcome fit for royalty, complete with sword dancing and music. Sudha could tell immediately that these remote people were extremely fond of her new husband. They were completely unabashed as they crowded around her, inspecting the new bride. The girls boldly stared and touched her. This forthright scrutiny was hard for Sudha to take at first, but then she understood that these people were just curious about this exotic woman from Northern India, and their manner of familiarization was touching and signing. Her attitude adjusted and suddenly she was delighted to be among them; they were so welcoming. For the time she willed herself to forget the flight and all her other misgivings.

After all the traditional welcomes were over, KC indicated it was time to move on. He ushered his new wife into a waiting jeep, and off they drove down a rutted, primitive path of large round pebble stones. Pasighat, headquarters of the East Siang district of what is known as Arunachal Pradesh, was built around the airstrip that served as the nucleus and the only connecting link to the outer world. So it was not many minutes after leaving the airstrip that they reached the community center. On the one side of the village was a row of neat government houses. On the other side stood a primitive hospital and some other official-looking buildings. At the far edge of the village, she could hear the deafening roar of the mighty Dihang River, a tributary of the Brahmaputra: a comforting din she never tired of. After a very short tour of town, KC ushered her up to the house with the Indian flag fluttering on a flat pole in the middle of the front lawn.

Although slightly bigger, their house was very much like the other houses in the compound. The exterior walls were mud-plastered and it had a red asbestos roof. Inside Sudha found four adequate but quite spartan rooms, with cement floors all in a row, the living room at the far end and a veranda off the back. The interior walls were made of bamboo and wood, plastered over with mud and then whitewashed. They looked substantial but in fact they were so thin you could not drive a nail into them. The woodwork was all polished to a lovely, rich brown patina. The kitchen appeared to be adequately equipped; there was even a kerosene refrigerator, originally sent to the area to keep medicines cold. After years of neglect, KC had commandeered it for his new bride. The kitchen was a room Sudha soon discovered was ruled by the cook, and off limits to her. The two attached bathrooms, with modern water taps, were not nearly as primitive as she had imagined because KC’s predecessors were British and the British always made themselves comfortable wherever they went. Of course there was no electricity, only Aladdin lamps scattered throughout the rooms. They had a small garden right outside the house but she soon found it was inhospitable for sitting, as there were lots of snakes of various colors and many other unidentified creepy crawlers.

Behind the houses lay the tropical rain forest; so dense you could only see a few yards in. It seemed the trees were growing taller by the minute. Pasighat, receives almost three hundred inches of rain annually. It rains every day. Standing outside later that first evening, under the brightest stars she had ever seen, Sudha listened to the call of wild animals—hyenas, wild boars, and elephant—over the roar of the Dihong River.

KC raced her through the house, then headed straight up to his office to check the mail and plan his strategy for a meeting scheduled for the following day. As he headed out, their only servant, a cook named Gopichand, arrived to greet them and prepare an evening meal. He was an ex-army cook, not from the village, but part of KC’s government entourage.

Sudha can remember him clearly because he was so very odd-looking, a gnome-like creature. He was quick and nimble in the kitchen and he proved himself to be nothing less than an artist. He was a master of improvisation: very handy as they had few vegetables and seldom chicken or mutton. With their limited larder, and no store to shop in, he magically produced all kinds of delicious food, both Indian and Western. His greatest talent lay in presenting leftovers in such a manner that you didn’t feel they were leftover at all but a dish specially prepared. Another extraordinary skill of his was napkin folding. He would have put the best origami expert to shame. From that very first meeting, Gopichand let Sudha know he had a mind of his own. What he wanted to do he did. Being a new housewife in a foreign environment, she chose not to argue with him or anyone else.

When KC returned, they were both famished and exhausted. After having their first delicious repast prepared by the hobgoblin Gopichand, they encountered a dilemma in the bedroom. Sudha was not sure what her bachelor husband slept on before, but the only articles of furniture in the sparse bedroom were two iron bedsteads with no mattresses. Sheepishly, KC took off up the road and in no time returned with two worn yet clean mattresses. The new housewife quickly unpacked some of the linens her father had lovingly packed and in the stark, uncurtained bedroom, they blew out the lamps and dropped off to sleep.

When she awoke in the morning, she had to blink several times looking out the window before she could make out what she was seeing: hundreds of human eyes peering in on them. There were men, women, and children all peeping in the windows to get a look at these strange humans, as if they were from another world. She was shocked and confused. KC humorously explained to her that although they were accustomed to him and many of the British officers before him, they were quite unaccustomed to women from outside their villages. Especially women who were clad above the waist. Not knowing what else she could do, she just smiled back at them and took it all in stride. Their curiosity and desire to learn was fascinating to her from the very start, matched only by her own curiosity.

Following the “peep” show, Sudha and KC got up and she saw him off to his tribal meeting. He was so consumed with the task ahead that he never considered giving her any guidance for the day. So there she found herself in this strange environment, left very much to her own devices. It wasn’t as hard as it might have been, since throughout her childhood, she had been a loner. She roamed through the near-empty rooms, back and forth, thinking of ways to craft them into a comfortable home. This meager house was very different from anything she was used to. It was so primitive, so basic, so very bare. Her family home in Agra, which she had always considered quite modest, was palatial in contrast. At first sight, she was mystified as to how she was going to convert these blank rooms, lacking all creature comforts and amenities, into a comfy home with a warm atmosphere. It was daunting, but Sudha was grateful to have an immediate undertaking to throw herself into.

When her husband returned late that night, after successful negotiations, Sudha asked him if there was a cottage craft center in Pasighat. These were local bazaars where artisans from the surrounding villages hawked their wares. The next morning he accompanied her to the market to see what they had. Young village girls, weaving colorful materials for sarongs on their hip looms, were scattered about. With KC interpreting, they purchased almost all the material they were weaving and commissioned them to make more. She could already envision the earthy fabric transformed into colorful, decorative curtains and pillow covers. The teacher in her was fascinated when on breaks the girls took books out of their baskets and began to study. In other stalls, the village men, clad only in dyed loincloths, were skillfully constructing basic furniture pieces out of local bamboo. She and KC commissioned them to make some rustic chairs, tables, and an armoire. She even helped the carpenters design a bamboo screen, which she later decoratively painted, to section off a little puja room.

Everything was complete, delivered, and installed in less than a month, and the austere bachelor pad was now their cozy little home. Sudha spent a delightful afternoon decoratively painting her screen and then assembled a small alter with pictures and images of Hindu deities and Christian saints. Now she had a place of her own in which to follow her daily Hindu rituals, with the proper ambience for her to meditate and recite her mantras. Her biggest problem now was that there were no flowers in the garden this time of year to offer with her prayers. She made her apologies to God and prayed, chanted, and meditated flowerless but religiously.

After all of the unpacking, renovating, and basically settling into this new life alone (KC was forever occupied), Sudha became quite bored and restless. KC had introduced her to his staff members and their wives and while she enjoyed their company, the people she really wished to get know were the tribal women living just down the hill. She started to take daily walks down into the village areas after KC went to the office at dawn.

After her morning puja, she would start down the rocky lane. Past the government compound and the semi-modernized, mud-plastered houses with running water lay the rest of the village. Here the houses were primitive huts built on pillars three feet off the ground. The walls were constructed of bamboo without mud plastering, and they had palm leaf roofs: palms placed one on top of another so the rain could not get in. The houses were constructed to withstand the climate in that region. The winters got cold, but these bamboo houses were quite secure. They had no windows and in the center was a hearth, which burned day and night, offering heat, light, and protection from the mosquitoes. There was no electricity and people couldn’t afford to burn lamps, as kerosene and oil were expensive and hard to get. One nuclear family lived in each hut. When the children grew up and got married, they built another hut for the new family.

The process of introductions began very slowly. Due to her husband’s position as the senior-most officer in the town, the locals were a bit in awe of her. She would time her visits so the men would have gone off to work in the offices as translators and official representatives, and the women were home alone. They were not accustomed to visits by government officials, let alone a wife, and having this strange woman from Delhi walk down to their village and into their lives was something extraordinary. In the beginning, when she would try to meet with them, they were full of inhibitions, not understanding why she would want to come to their humble homes. Sudha was persistent, always friendly and never imposing, and eventually their curiosity won out.

They probably thought they didn’t have any choice but to welcome her; after all she was the sub divisional magistrate’s wife and they couldn’t just shoo her away like the ever-present flies. In time, when they realized she wasn’t giving up, they began to walk up, greet, and lead her up to the notched logs they used as the steps into their door-less huts. Not knowing each other’s language was an impediment, but also a way of easing tension, as Sudha’s clumsy attempts at communication would send them into peals of laughter.

To make the women feel more at ease and to demonstrate that she was basically no different than they, she would often exchange her sari for their local dress. The women wore handwoven sarongs, with little jackets on the top when they stepped out of the house or when it was cold; otherwise they wore only their sarongs and went bare-breasted. They wove all of the material themselves on their handmade hip looms, using cotton yarn that was brought from Calcutta. The different tribes wore different colors; the tribe where they had their headquarters wore red sarongs and the tribe across the river wore yellow sarongs. Sudha would wear a red sarong, the color for her village, but she never went bare-breasted; she always wore the accompanying jacket, believing there are times when it is better to stick to one’s own customs.

Only the women wore the sarongs. The men wore a dyed loincloth that could be any color. On top of that, the interpreters wore the official red coat, while the others wove their own coats for winter. Otherwise they just wore their loincloths. The village men wore cane hats that they wove themselves‚ very practical because they were waterproof and acted like umbrellas. The women used palm leaves as umbrellas, little capes of palm leaves. They even made hand fans of palm leaves to ward off flies and mosquitoes.

The tribal people were mostly farmers. They used an ancient agriculture system they called Jhoom cultivation, in which they cleared a section of forest, cultivated it for three years and then moved on to another parcel of land and let the forest reclaim that piece. This system had been followed for ages and it was extremely practical as they had no fertilizer and the soil was quickly depleted. It was also their way of respecting their environment. The forest was like any rain forest, tall, deciduous trees, bamboo and palms, and of course the dense undergrowth creepers. They grew rice through the dry cultivation method, as well as millet, barley, and maize. It was mostly the women who worked in the fields; the men cleared the land. They had no tools, horses, or any beasts of burden; they just distributed the seed by hand in the cleared areas and the seeds grew. They didn’t know how to dig and turn the earth, or make proper furrows. Those modern methods would be introduced later, as the agriculture department became more active. The crops they didn’t consume they bartered for precious salt.

As always, Sudha was interested in everyone’s religious or beliefs and practices. She was soon to learn that these tribals worshipped the elements, the sun and the moon. They referred to the sun as Don and the moon as Polo. All of their religious festivals revolved around the seasons, and each one had different songs and dances. They also did a lot of ancestor worship. Outside every village was a secluded spot where they buried their dead. Unlike the Hindus, they did not have a system of cremation.

As she became more accepted, Sudha spent more of her time visiting and learning the local customs. She tried to break the barriers by sitting with the women, eating with them, talking to them, at first individually in their huts. After a fortnight, when they stopped staring at her and she could mix with them without them being inhibited, she invited them as a group up to her house. Communication was still a challenge but their amusement at her china, glasses, cutlery, and napkins was impossible to miss. They tried with very limited success to use the implements set before them, but soon they just dropped the pretense and happily used their fingers to munch on the delicacies Gopichand had prepared in their honor. The women all left satiated and so appreciative and grateful that Sudha would open her home to them, but it was definitely the hostess who enjoyed this party the most.

Weeks passed and Sudha saw KC less and less. He was always busy in the office. He would come home for lunch briefly, then he would go off again till sometimes late in the evening. Now that she was familiar with her setting and its inhabitants it was time for her to decide what her personal role there should be: What would satisfy her desire to serve others as well as complement her husband’s good work. She knew by now that she would have to figure it out for herself, KC was no help whatsoever.

The women had made such a favorable impression on her that she thought it would be fun and challenging to work closely with them. Her idea was to introduce them to her kind of living and the aspects of modern civilization that she thought important, while preserving and experiencing their customs and traditions. She visualized this concept as a bridge, a virtual cultural conduit. She knew she would have to feel her way along. If she had a specific problem or query, especially regarding policy matters, KC was always helpful, but it was up to her to discover her own direction.

After observing the villagers’ lifestyle and habits, Sudha decided the first thing she wanted to teach them was basic hygiene, because she discovered they had no concept of cleanliness or its correlation to disease. The children would go unwashed for days. They were always barefoot, and the notion of cleaning themselves before they went to sleep was unheard of. The women’s cooking habits were unsanitary to say the least. They never washed the cooking utensils in which they cooked, they used non-potable water, and they had no concept of proper food storage. Salt was a precious commodity to them because it came from so far away, but it was often ruined, stored like everything else in open bamboos cylinders or vessels. They also cooked in these bamboo vessels, most with a circumference of eighteen inches. Because of their improper hygiene, there was a lot of totally preventable illness.

Her first self-assignment was to explain to them why their children were getting sick and what they could do to avoid it. She instituted a program in Pasighat that she would eventually introduce to all the neighboring villages. She would gather up all of the children, pick one particularly grubby one, and wash him thoroughly with soap and clean water. As she scrubbed the youngster, the others would help haul the vessels of water from the river and then stand around in a circle, curious and very amused. They had seen soap before, but they didn’t seem very interested in it. After a thorough bathing, she would dress the squeaky-clean, giggling child in proper clothes that she had brought or sometimes their own clean clothes, and then she would comb their hair. After the washing and grooming, she would call another unwashed child to stand next to him and she would then poll the laughing crowd as to which one looked better.

Her goal was to appeal to the parents through the children. Through these visual demonstrations, she was able to explain to the mothers that if a child were clean, he would not get sick. She taught by example, and they were quick to learn. She worked through interpreters to begin with, but slowly and gradually she learned enough of the dialects to communicate her own lessons. The women were always giggling and laughing, finding the basic tenets she thought they should know—that they should use clean utensils, keep their homes clean and washed and dusted—very strange.

Her husband was committed throughout his career to being completely accessible to the people he served, whether it be at the office or in their home, and Pasighat was no exception. The tribals preferred calling on KC at their home because they did not like the formality of the office courtroom. They were completely uninhibited and would arrive at all hours, late into the night and before dawn, seeking advice. Issues ranged from applying for a gun license—which to them was a status symbol, not a regulation—to land or property disputes, to agricultural concerns. They never arrived empty-handed and their gift was always eggs, nested in an artfully woven cane basket.

There would be three, five, or seven eggs according to the rank of the official they were approaching. KC always merited seven eggs. At first they had assumed the eggs would buy them anything they wanted, but they learned quickly that KC was not such any easy nut to crack. Although he followed the laws to a tee, he was always generous with his time and forthcoming with an honest explanation if their requests would take time or were not feasible. They never argued with his decisions and genuinely appreciated his time and integrity.

Sudha told about one particularly memorable old lady from Balek village who turned up from time to time bearing gifts of the most beautifully woven cotton mats‚ called dhurries or gaddus‚ a specialty of her region. The cotton was woven into pile on one side, which made the mat look like a carpet. She was very affectionate and loving, and in spite of the language barrier she always managed to convey her simple requests. Once when she arrived asking KC for a gun license, he sat her down as if she were his own mother and explained that it was not only hazardous for her to keep a firearm, but at her age the gun was likely to fall into the wrong hands and get her in a heap of legal trouble. Rather than disappoint her completely, he offered to buy all the dhurries she had on hand and from then on he became her “marketing consultants.”

There were so many different dialects in this area and whether he had an innate knack or just sheer determination, KC managed to acquaint himself with almost all of them. He prided himself on being able to communicate with the headmen and the villagers of all the differing tribes. There was one particular village across the river Bodak, where the headman was a charming old man, an actor and mimic with a wonderful sense of humor. He would speak at length to K.C. in the village dialect. One day he came to their house to visit and as the two of them bantered on about this and that he took a moment to share with KC, “When I talk to you I connect but when I talk to the headman in the other village I cannot make sense of what he says and he cannot understand me.” They both found this uproariously funny and their laughter resounded across all the rooms in the house.

 

 

A LARGE PART of KC’s job entailed overseeing the outlying villages under his supervision in the Pasighat sub division, which covered an area of over a thousand square miles. He would tend to his administrative work in the office for two weeks, and then he would assemble an entourage and head off on foot to tour the other hamlets. Sudha really looked forward to these tours, firstly because she could be with her husband all the time, and secondly because she got to see so many more places and faces. They would leave as early in the mornings as they could organize their motley group, and arrive at their destination in the late afternoon of that day or the next, if the village was far removed.

They didn’t have horses; these were walking caravans where they marched in a long column with porters, usually women,  Ocarrying all of the provisions and luggage, some going on ahead to light fires and arrange accommodations. This was not only wonderful fun but very educational, because in the process Sudha got to see and learn more about the tropical topography and ecosystems. She was born and bred in the western Himalayas, but she had never been to the eastern Himalayas and it was a completely new geographic experience. The western Himalayas are mostly pine forests while here, in this high altitude rain forest, the vegetation was so tropical: thick, lush green flora, tree ferns and in the foothills, creepers and trees vying with each other in their search for the sun.

KC was known to most of the villagers, and as soon as they saw the caravan approach, the younger members would run up to meet them playing their musical swords and dancing while the village elders gathered to welcome them. From the boundary of the village they would lead them, in procession, to the bamboo shelters they had specially constructed for their accommodations. This spontaneous hospitality was such a unique experience, Sudha was always overcome with humility, as they offered everything they had with pride and genuine affection.

The villagers would allow them just enough time to rest a bit and freshen up before hauling KC down to the fire circle. This was the setting for the Kebang, the tribal term for their system of adjudication. It was an informal court used to mediate everyday problems and disputes. These disagreements ranged from land and property squabbles to domestic matters, including marriages and women troubles, to inter-village boundary issues. The Kebang was a long-drawn-out affair. In each case the complainant would go into an in-depth history of the issue and then the elders would take turns voicing their opinions. KC, both acting judge and advocate, would patiently listen to all the interpretations before rendering his decision. Generally, judgments were given on the spot unless the issue concerned local policies, in which case he needed to consult the appropriate Indian Department.

After the serious business of the Kebang, the festivities would begin. A lavish feast, prepared throughout the day, was laid out in large bamboo vessels for everyone to partake. By then everyone was starving, but Sudha was always a little disappointed as she found the food—chicken, vegetables, and grains—rather bland. Everything was boiled with no spices other than their precious salt and occasionally a local chili. Local fruits and nuts were piled high on bamboo platters for dessert. The beverage was always their homemade semi-alcoholic beer made from rice or barley. The brew was good to the taste and after several nips, these evenings were most enjoyable.

Following the feast, the wild dancing would begin and last late into the night. Men, women, and children would perform their traditional dance, the Ponnung, moving rhythmically around a ceremonial fire. Their only musical instrument was a sword with pieces of metal hanging from it and when the sword went up and down, the pieces of metal would clang to a certain rhythm. To that rhythm they danced. The man in the center, known as the Miri, would wield the sword, and this established the beat to which the rest of the tribe would dance.

They would also sing songs, some traditional and some that were tributes to Mahatma Gandhi and Nehru, political icons they perceived as remote kings who would solve all their problems and bring good things to them. They even made up songs about KC, which they sing even today. KC—or Johorey Mignom (Mignom means Big Man) as they called him—was their hero, always willing to go anywhere and do anything with and for them. They would croon on about how he was always right there in their midst, ready to share in their happiness and sorrows. That is how they will always remember him.

They would stay in each village for one night—or two, if there were many issues to resolve—and then travel on to the next village on the tour. There was hardly a dull moment traveling in the jungle and every trip posed a new adventure. On one expedition, somehow Sudha and KC were separated from the rest of the retinue including the porters who had all the food. They weren’t worried that they were lost; they had a tribal boy with them who could find the way, but they were hungry. As they crossed a small river on foot, the small boy paused on a flat tone in the middle of the river and with a sharpened bamboo stick pierced a fish about fourteen inches long. On the far shore he expertly lit a fire, wrapped the fish up in a banana leaf, and treated them to one of the most delicious meals Sudha had ever tasted

They enjoyed a warm welcome at every town, firstly because these were polite people who respected KC’s official position, but more than that, because these tribals clearly revered him. His predecessors had all addressed their basic needs but never in a personal or affectionate manner. They tended to the business on hand and then retreated to their assigned huts. KC never talked down to these simple people; he acted as though he was one of them and always participated in everything they offered.

Neither Sudha or KC will ever forget the visit of Rashid Ali, an official from the headquarters in Shilong. He joined them on one of those tours and proved to be a gregarious, high-spirited gentleman who was eager to join the ceremonial festivities. Following the requisite Kebang and feast, KC and Mr. Rashid danced late into the night with all the natives, but particularly the young women, until they were completely exhausted. They excused themselves, amidst protests from all the girls, and retired to their huts. It was very hot that night and they had worked up quite a sweat, so before they went off to sleep they both stripped naked, naturally assuming the night was over and they wouldn’t be bothered again. The disappointed girls thought otherwise, and after allowing them a short rest, they entered the huts and pulled the sleepy men back out into the fire circle. When the young women discovered the men were naked they simply wrapped their sarongs around them and continued to dance, proving they were not inhibited at all.

In all the villages visited, first thing in the morning, Sudha would hold her Hygiene 101 class. She would summon all the children to the village center and from the scruffy crowd she would pick one willing child and begin the bathing demonstration. She taught by example and invariably the excited kids would bring their curious mothers. Through the interpreters, Sudha explained again and again that if the child were clean, he would not get sick. On subsequent visits to these hamlets it was always gratifying for Sudha to see that many of these lessons had been put to use‚ and the difference it was making in the health of the community.

A particularly hilarious incident occurred on a tour to a remote village at the edge of the jungle. Joining the Johoreys was a gentleman from neighboring Assam, in charge of the malaria eradication program. They assumed his job had taken him to places equally remote as he seemed quite at home during the Kabong and evening festivities. After conducting his experiments, the following morning their guest retired to his hut for a well-deserved nap. There were wild cats in the jungle and this afternoon, as this man was sleeping, a tiger entered the village and climbed onto the roof of his hut, prowling around looking for something to eat. The animal was so heavy that the roof caved in and the tiger tumbled down almost on top of the sleeping man.

They both flew out of the hut in opposite directions while everyone fell to the ground laughing. It was difficult to say who was more shocked‚ the tiger or the malaria worker. The tiger recovered and fled into the jungle, but the poor malaria inspector was in deep shock for days, not speaking or reacting at all. One could say he was scared speechless.

Some of the villages they toured were across the river. Normal transport across was a dugout, hand-carved canoe that carried seven or eight people. On the last scheduled tour of the season they took a river ride that none of them would ever forget. Although it wasn’t raining where they were, it must have been raining heavily in the mountains because when they left the village for their return trip, they discovered the river was in spate. Measuring the floodwaters, the headman and their guide advised the group that the river was too dangerous to cross. What days before had been a large stream was now a mighty torrent, half a kilometer wide, carrying huge tree trunks and other debris downstream. It was a frightening sight.

KC, who was (and still is) quite foolhardy in such matters insisted that he was expected back and directed the guide to take them across. At the time Sudha had no idea of the risks posed by this rash decision and she was not accustomed to questioning KC’s authority, so along with the others, including KC’s younger brother and sister who were visiting, she climbed into the dugout and they started across. From the start, KC, the guide, and the other rowers paddled with all their strength, but the boat was perilously carried downstream by the raging floodwaters. After much forceful sculling they ultimately reached the other shore, downstream from their destination. But the boat struck a rock face wall and was pushed back midstream. Now they all were terrified as the boat was dragged further downstream, the rowers making little headway. Later on, they all laughed hysterically, remembering one of the tribal interpreters who was totally panicking, but instead of turning to his own gods he was calling out Hare Krishna! Hare Krishna!

They thought they were goners for sure but with great exertion, and some heavenly intervention, several hours later they reached their side of the river bank again, this time more than twenty kilometers downstream from where they started. Completely physically and emotionally spent from the ordeal, the group then had to walk ten kilometers through the thick jungle with one interpreter clearing a tiny path to get through. They were all so grateful to be alive no one complained. When they finally reached home, the villagers stared at them like ghosts who had risen from the dead. They hadn’t expected them to survive, because they all had seen the boat leave from the other bank and go careening downstream. After seeing that they were very much alive, their shock turned to elation, and they broke into their spontaneous dancing, thanking the gods.

That night, after the giddiness of survival wore off, Sudha found herself furious at KC for his rash decision. To cross the Dihang in spate was the most foolhardy thing one could do and it was only now that she understood the extreme danger he had placed them all in. It was not only the two of them and their entourage at risk, but his teenage siblings, for whom she felt responsible. If anything had happened to them, her mother-in-law would never have forgiven her. KC threw off her rebukes with his inimitable confidence. When pressed for an explanation, he made clear that if they had not crossed then, they would have had to wait four months in that village because the river would not get any calmer. The way he saw it was, they either crossed right away or four months later. The prospect of four months in that hamlet was not very attractive. She understood his reasoning, but she still felt that ignoring the advice of the guide and headman who knew the river was very foolhardy on KC’s part.

One of their duties was to play host to all the visiting officials and dignitaries. This was something they looked forward to as they got to meet new people and get news and supplies from the outside world. One ordinary morning Sudha was down in the village, meeting with the women, when her husband’s assistant raced down the pebbled path with the very same message he had presented to KC just minutes before. A wire had just come in advising that the Minister of Health was arriving forthwith and they were to meet him at the airstrip. KC was flustered by such an impromptu visit and he clearly wanted his wife by his side. Sudha flew back up to KC’s office where he instructed her to round up all the interpreters, the headman and any villagers she could nab for a ceremonial reception. This took no time, as the villagers always loved a celebration, a chance to perform and meet new people. And so within minutes, there they were, all congregated on the landing strip waiting for the Minister of Health to arrive.

As soon as the plane touched down on the tarmac the villagers launched into their song and dance, and as the plane taxied toward them, the door hatch of the still moving airplane opened, and out jumped a goat followed by another goat and then another until the whole lot of them were out. The plane then made a sharp U-turn and took off back in the direction it had come from.

They all just stared with mouths agape, first at the disappearing aircraft and then at the goats. Finally all eyes turned to KC. Looking quite confused, he pulled the telegram out of his pocket and read it for the first time. He shook his head and chuckled with amusement and then chagrin; the wire read, “MOH ARRIVING.” When his assistant read the telegram he was so flustered he assumed that it meant Minister of Health, but what MOH more commonly stood for out there was Meat on Hoof. KC explained the ridiculous discrepancy to everyone. They all just laughed, took it in their stride, and went off to slaughter the goats, feasting on one and passing the rest to the local butcher who had originally requisitioned the animals.

 

Another comical incident occurred during a visit by the then Home Minister, Gobind Ballabh Pant, one of the leading lights of India’s Freedom Movement. He was presently one of the foremost political leaders from Uttar Pradesh. He was the first Home Minister and highest ranking official to ever visit Pasighat, and K.C., never having met him, was delighted to play host. In honor of his visit, K.C. started numerous improvement projects, including the construction of a more modern road. The villagers took this project upon themselves, wanting the Home Minister to be able to drive straight up to the village, which he did. Although he was only in his late fifties, an injury sustained during a lathi charge in the midst of the freedom movement left him with a spinal injury which manifested as Parkinson like tremors.

When introduced to Kutik Moyong, the venerable old headman of Pasighat, Pant’s hands were characteristically trembling and shaking. The headman was most perturbed by the tremors, he had never seen anything like this before. Anyone could see the worry all over his face. Following the formalities, he approached K.C. imploringly, “What are we going to do with him? He is about to die, he is shaking all over and if something happens to him while he is here it will be great infamy for us, our reputation will be finished. Please send him away as soon as possible.” Hiding his amusement, K.C. assured him all was well with Mr. Pant’s health, and that is condition was being monitored by a health team and he need not worry.

 

In those days one did not think of starting a family, it started itself. There was no such thing as family planning. Sudha knew nothing of birth control as her parents never talked about it. The nuns certainly never talked about it, and it was not something one discussed with one’s husband back then. She was completely naive and therefore very surprised when after four months of marriage she discovered she was expecting a baby. She had mixed feelings, thinking perhaps she wasn’t ready for motherhood so soon but there it was. KC was more stunned than anything else.

Being the daughter of a progressive doctor, the concept of having her baby in the middle of nowhere, far from family and the formal medical care she was accustomed to, was naturally concerning. When they looked into what was available, the news was bleak. The staff doctor had no gynecological experience and the hospital was not equipped for birthing. The good news was there was a tribal midwife from Shilong whom everyone thought well qualified and knowledgeable. Sudha was ignorant about such matters and was pulled in two directions. Her parents wanted her to come home where she would be afforded the best medical care available, while her husband, as ignorant as she was in such matters, wanted her to stay. KC, forever the optimist, predicted that nothing would go wrong and couldn’t understand her dilemma. When her father received word that she chose to stay, in his return letter he said he would send her mother when the time came. Everyone was pleased with that compromise.

She had no prenatal care to speak of. The army doctor advised her from time to time but there were no checkups. The tribal midwife from Shilong came once and examined Sudha, listening to the fetal heartbeat. She gave her assurance that all was well and she would be in attendance for the birth. Sudha, just went about her business for the next five months, continuing her service work, adding the task of knitting baby clothes for her winter baby, with yarn from Calcutta, to her repertoire. She felt fine and they continued their schedule of two weeks working with the people in their hamlet and the other two weeks on tour to the outlying areas.

She had no problems or upsets until her eighth month when she and KC were visiting a remote village they had not been to before. All was normal until their procession came across a different river. She was expecting to see a dugout canoe or some other ordinary crossing transport when to her horror KC pointed to a giant elephant standing in front of them and announced that this was to be their ferry, He didn’t notice the astonishment written all over her face, but took it all in stride, acting as if this was the most normal thing in the world for a pregnant woman to do. So there she was, eight months pregnant, taking an elephant ride.

She was exasperated, but couldn’t say anything; there was simply no other way to cross. She grudgingly let KC lead her to the river’s edge, where he helped her awkwardly climb the little steps provided to mount the giant beast. Gracelessly and with great discomfort, she tried to settle onto the seat called a howdah. It is like a little cot with sides so that you don’t fall off. She naturally expected KC to climb on behind her but true to form he just ushered several of the porters onto her elephant and climbed onto the other elephant with the interpreters and officials. The ride itself wasn’t so bad, but later she realized that she had not known the enormity of the risk she took. Most elephants obey their trainers or guides, but there is always the chance that one of these enormous and intelligent animals will decide to bolt or get rid of the pesky rider on its back.

Later that evening in the safety and comfort of their little bungalow, she admonished KC again for his foolhardiness, explaining that it was risky, actually stupid, for a woman in her delicate condition to ride an elephant and had she known what would be ferrying her across that river, she would have skipped that particular tour. He looked at her, bewildered, as if he had never considered that a little elephant ride across a river could pose a threat to anyone. He was so focused on his own agenda that it had never crossed his mind. It was driven home again for Sudha that everything in their lives would always be secondary to KC’s love for the extraordinary and his ambitious agenda. She had to come to terms with the idea that her life might be an adventurous, yet lonesome journey.

Right after that incident, mercifully, her mother arrived. Her father, now semi-recovered from his heart attack, had gone on an extended trip, visiting old haunts and friends. Upon his return he told her mother it was time for her to go and stay till the baby was born and them bring them both home with her for a visit. She gamely made the journey, but in a passenger aircraft. She was a real trooper.

Their house by this time was quite cozy and her mother, not one for formalities, was very comfortable. She was very impressed when her daughter showed her around, giving a good description of the “before.” She was so complimentary, making Sudha proud of all her domestic accomplishments. After sharing her with so many others during her childhood, to now have her mother to herself was wonderful. They interacted with each other more that month than ever before. She listened while her mother recounted tales of her young days and her life with her husband; this was real quality time. Sudha was delighted that her mother seemed to be quite happy with KC as her husband as well as impressed by his official power. On his side, KC was thrilled to play host, though sometimes overly enthusiastic. His exuberance had to be dampened when he wanted to take them off on crazy expeditions to show his mother-in-law the sights.

Sudha was very reassured to have her mother with her during her first pregnancy, an absolutely new experience. Finally there was someone with whom to discuss all the feelings and fears that her husband had no time for or interest in. Her mother devoted herself to preparing for the new arrival, stitching nappies and all the other baby requirements. She put a complete stop to all tours and outings and saw to it that her daughter took the required rest and ate proper regulated meals.

Just before the baby was born, the three of them went to a party hosted by “Auntie” Sil in honor of her niece’s visit from Shilong. Sudha realized at the party how remote and removed from society they were, relishing every bit of information on what was happening out in the civilized world. They all had a grand evening, eating, drinking, and singing Khasi songs. Back then there were no restrictions on pregnant women drinking alcohol and, while it was rare, that evening Sudha enjoyed a drink with the rest of them. When they left the gathering, the three decided the night was still young and they should take the jeep out for a drive under the brilliant stars. Now, one must understand that the roads in Pasighat in those days were barely drivable, so KC decided they would drive on the airfield, the only place you could go fast. He was at the wheel of the jeep and they were driving up and down the airstrip with the wind in their hair, still singing and enjoying themselves immensely. Even the PSP sheets that made so much noise didn’t dampen their fun that evening.

One thing they had not considered was that the airstrip was highly guarded and the man on duty that evening thought he was witnessing an unauthorized landing. By wireless he sent an urgent message off to Jorhat that there had been an illegal action. Ironically, the officials sent a message back to KC’s wireless apprising him of the situation, forcing him to explain that it was only himself and his family enjoying a late night joy ride in a jeep.

Sudha went into labor a week later. It went as planned: a home birth with the army doctor, his nurse, and the tribal midwife all in attendance. Her mother, so calm and comforting, never left her side throughout the long ordeal. She dotingly saw to all the midwife’s requirements, while KC sat alone in the adjoining room. After hours of waiting, at about one a.m., KC’s patience ran out and he became extremely agitated. He started jumping up and down and imagining all sorts of scenarios. It was as though he was realizing for the first time what a monumental event was happening. Her mother left the room and gave him a shout, commanding him to go and sit quietly in the corner and behave himself. Sudha’s mother knew how to handle KC, and he respected her for her wisdom and practical judgment. He promptly calmed down and explained to her that he was feeling responsible and really worried because the conditions were so primitive and he was wishing he had sent his wife back to Agra and civilization for a conventional birth in a respectable hospital.

Their daughter was finally born at the crack of dawn. She was a beautiful baby, so tiny and sweet, and their only child born with a full head of hair. They named her Geeta, a name suggested by her brother Ravi. Everything appeared to be quite normal and the nurse gave the baby a bath in tepid water, as that was what was available. Sudha’s mother generously offered to let the new mother rest and have the baby sleep with her.

Her mother stayed and helped with her granddaughter for about three weeks. When she was ready to go back, Sudha was anxious for a break from the Northeast and most excited to introduce her new daughter to her father. So in the middle of March, Sudha, her mother, and new daughter flew back to Jorhat, this time in a passenger aircraft, and boarded the train. When they reached Agra, Sudha was delighted to spot her father waiting for them at the station. She put the baby, his first grandchild, in his arms. He was so happy it brought tears to everyone’s eyes. She was relieved to see her father, who had been so ill the last time she saw him, appear to be the picture of health. He had spent those last few months traveling around the country and meeting with people from his past, enjoying his retirement. He had even taken her grandmother on a trip to Lucknow, Kamopur, Varanasi (then Benaras), and Solon to meet with all of her relatives.

They all merrily piled into the car. On the way home they were all chattering and catching up on lost time but just as they were about to reach the house, Sudha’s father complained that he was not feeling well. He entered the house and just lay down. Sensing something terribly wrong, Sudha raced down the street to Aunt Winifred’s house, looking for her husband who was a surgeon. He followed her back to the house, all the while repeating, “I told him not to go to the station.”

Tragically, two hours later, her father was dead. It was a huge shock and no one ever figured out whether this last heart attack was medically inevitable or brought on by his extreme jubilation on seeing his first grandchild. The next few days were a painful blur. Sudha’s mother was now a widow at just forty-six. She sent a message to her older brother, who was still studying in Germany, telling him not to come but to complete his studies and return later.

When her father died in 1956 morgue facilities were almost nonexistent. In India, Hindus do not bury their dead and believe that once the soul has left the body, dust must return to dust. Therefore cremation is done as soon as possible. On the third day after the cremation, the family goes and retrieves the ashes, which they put in a mud vessel. This is then taken to the banks of the Ganga and immersed with the appropriate prayers and the chanting of slokas (a couplet of Sanskrit verse). Sudha’s father was cremated according to the Hindu custom the following morning. KC arrived later that day, but she was too overwhelmed to even know he was there. He stayed with the family for a week or so and in the brother’s absence helped with rest of the arrangements.

This was an extremely traumatic period for Sudha. It was the complete opposite of how she had imagined this joyous trip. She had hoped to spend many happy moments with her father while he enjoyed little Geeta’s company. But that was not to be.

Sudha’s mother was distraught, and although KC returned to work, Sudha stayed on for several months, assisting her with the difficult transition to widowhood. She helped wind up the establishment in Agra and supported her move to Dehra Dun, a beautiful town in the foothills of the Himalayas where her younger sister and mother were living.

So much of Sudha’s energy was directed to helping her mother, there was little left for her newborn daughter. Auntie Winnie was a great support and help during this tragic time. It was Auntie who stayed up with the crying baby during the night rather than Sudha or her mourning mother. She also introduced Sudha to Mrs. Joseph, a lovely, elderly Christian lady, who they quickly employed as Geeta’s nanny. Sudha was so young and didn’t know a thing about raising a baby and Mrs. Joseph became her guardian angel, guiding and teaching her how to care properly for her infant daughter.

It wasn’t easy for them to wrap up a life and move but they did. All was done by the first of June and Sudha’s mother was on her way to her new life. KC came back to Agra to say goodbye to his mother-in-law and collect his wife and baby. Seeing how attached mother and child were to Mrs. Joseph, he thought it a good idea to have her return with them to Pasighat and luckily she agreed. The four of them flew from Agra to Calcutta to Jorhat, and then from there they took their last flight to Pasighat. Sudha attributed it to her fragile state of mind, but at each and every terminal she somehow managed to forget her bag. Thankfully, air travel was a lot more informal and friendly back then, and at each airport, they delayed the flight long enough for some worker to hastily rush the lost bag on board.

It was now early summer, almost three months since she left. Their cozy little home was a welcome change from all the grief and mourning she had been going through. The house was abuzz with all her new friends, everyone offering their condolences and bearing little handmade gifts for the baby. The first day or so KC, who so often seemed to not even notice her presence, seemed genuinely happy to have them home. She even sensed he was a little jealous of the baby because she took up so much of her time and attention. But this was one time he had no choice; he couldn’t put himself first.

Once the family settled back in, KC expected Sudha to be the responsible parent and tend to the baby while he was busy with his own things. After ministering to her mother for so long she was hoping for a bit more attention and comfort, someone to take care of her for a change. Although in his own way he tried to be consoling, it wasn’t like she had hoped it would be. She was used to her dad, who would have been so much more attentive and caring, but KC, as ever, was very busy and involved with his work. Of course it was natural at that moment for her to compare KC—unfavorably—to the father she had just lost, but she didn’t feel sorry for herself for long. She was a new mother and very happy to have little Geeta to keep her company in the jungle.

Up till this point, she had been so busy setting up their home, familiarizing herself with her new husband, new environment, new mission of introducing basic hygiene and amenities to the villagers and her new baby, that she never even considered the lack of formalized education in the area. Perhaps it was the new-mother instinct in her or the fact that Geeta was now six months old, but her work priority switched to her first love, teaching. Although there was a semblance of a government school starting at the first grade level, there was no preschool and Sudha was a firm believer in the notion that the sooner you introduced education to children, the quicker they learned. She knew these children could benefit enormously from the extra instruction and attention that they would receive at school. She shared her idea with KC, who presented it to the officials, and soon a small building in the hamlet was donated for the project. With the dedicated help of some of the other official’s wives, the first preschool program in Pasighat was open and running.

The school became her passion. While KC continued to carry out his duties in the neighboring villages, her touring days had ended before the baby’s birth. She was content and fulfilled, staying put in Pasighat, caring for her infant, working at the school, entertaining the occasional VIPS, and implementing and assisting work on several other noteworthy projects in the area.

One contribution that she was very proud to have been a part of was the overhaul of their distribution system. The villagers didn’t have a need for currency; they utilized the barter system and the common article of trade was salt, a rare and dear commodity in those remote areas. The problem was the villagers were completely unaware of the real price of the salt, which was only several rupees a kilo, and were therefore duped into trading much more of their wares than the salt was worth. It was heartbreaking for her to watch the unscrupulous merchants and businessmen take advantage of their ignorance. When she explained this disproportion to the villagers, they understood the problem, but were at a lack for a better system.

She and KC came up with the idea for a cooperative movement. While respecting the system of barter and not introducing the concept of money at this point (that was to come later), they regulated the salt price so as to make it more equitable and thereby prevented the local people from suffering economically. Following the new guidelines, they were still using salt as the means of trade, but they were now given an adequate amount of goods in exchange. The cooperative ensured an element of fairness into the system and the tribals were no longer always left with the short end of the stick.

They also upgraded the water system. Water was carried from a spring high in the hills through an elaborate series of bamboo pipes and then collected in a tank in the village before it flowed into taps. The present system, while archaic, was adequate in theory; it just needed some practical updating of the infrastructure, allowing for a stronger water flow. The water was just pure spring water, not filtered or treated, but that is what they all drank and thrived on.

Under KC’s watch, their ancient agricultural system was also modernized. Arunachal Pradesh is a hilly area with heights from 500 to 18,000 feet above sea level. The only method used up till then was the traditional agriculture system, Jhum cultivation, where they moved their crops every three years, allowing the land to lay fallow till the forest and vegetation reclaimed it. Environmentally speaking, this was a good system, but through the efforts of the agricultural department, wet rice cultivation and terracing were also introduced. Agriculture inspectors were appointed to advise the farmers and provide them with better strains of seeds. All of these new developments were successful in maximizing their crop production.

KC had now been posted in Pasighat for almost four years and they both knew their tenure would soon be drawing to a close. Sudha had been there for two years and felt she had just begun to win over the hearts of the tribal ladies and to understand their psyche. Imagining handing over the reins to someone else seemed strange. She prayed that their successors would have the same appreciation for this wild, wonderful land and the remarkable people as they had, and that they would provide the same level of compassion and commitment.

Pasighat was a lesson in adapting to strange surroundings. The tribal people were so simple and affectionate and so incisive, but it was their spontaneity that inspired Sudha most, providing a kind of spiritual elevation. Seeing human beings living so happily in whatever surroundings God had given them was tremendously uplifting. They taught her that people with integrity can live in a world with no locks or keys; there was virtually no crime in Pasighat. During her stay, she discovered her own talents and capabilities, utilizing all the qualities she learned from her parents and the nuns; resilience, patience, and affection among them. She felt tremendous gratitude, particularly to her father, for instilling in her a caring attitude and a strong desire to be of service to others.

 

She now knew for sure her parents had made a good choice in KC. She loved his enthusiasm and fanatical approach to everything he tackled. Very early on in their marriage, he had to take second place, a position virtually unknown to him, but she noted he did this without complaint and from the very start proved to be a loving father interested in everything the baby did. Although she had felt a union with him before the baby was born, this child cemented their relationship. Sudha found him to be very dependable in his own style and in turn he had become quite dependent on her.

Now she wasn’t going to lie and say this new life was all a bed of roses. Her husband also had his quirks. Besides being foolhardy, she was also discovering that KC was not one for expressing himself. He was so immersed in his own work he rarely had time for chitchat or speculation about what was going on in his wife’s mind. His occasionally narcissistic attitude often collided with her own desire to be truthful and forthright and it took her time to learn how to navigate her insecurities and find her own strength.

All that said, at the end of this very first segment of their married life, she found herself grateful for the opportunity to be a mother, wife, and companion to this eccentric man, supplementing and complementing his deeply interesting and satisfying life and career. She wasn’t always sure what was expected of her or if he was proud of what she contributed, but she was becoming more and more comfortable with herself. She had created a personal mission, working among wonderful people, making them aware of what the world held for them and how they could improve their way of life, and had done this without changing any of their cultural traditions. This had become the young couples mutual undertaking: introducing development in the sense of bringing all the comforts that modern civilization had to offer without compromising a rich and wonderful cultural heritage and Sudha believed they had been quite successful so far.