u/GrumpyGuyMugdha

Most of you all may have heard about the French Renaissance and the Bengali Renaissance. But how many of you know about the Assamese Renaissance in the 19th century?

And more than that, how many people know about Anandaram Dhekial Phukan, who worked all his life towards protecting the Assamese language and promoting vernacular education in the state?

Well, today I am going to share the story of him and his contributions in protecting the Assamese language during the Dark Age of our language when Bengali was imposed by the British administration on Assam.

Anandaram Dhekial Phukan was born to Haliram Dhekial Phukan on 22nd September, 1829 at Guwahati in the Dhekial Phukan family which was a family committee to social and cultural reform. His father, Haliram, was a distinguished historian who published books like 'Assam Buranji', one of the first comprehensive historical accounts of Assam. More than just a historian, Haliram was a visionary who saw education as a pillar of societal progress. He was particularly known for his support of women's education, a cause not commonly supported during his time.

His father influenced Anandaram's ideals a lot. Hence, he understood the importance of language for the advancement of the people, the language which the people speak, the language indigenous to the land. His central belief was that no society can progress without education in its mothertongue.

Anandaram started his school life in Guwahati. In 1841, the then commissioner Jenkins sponsored him to go to Calcutta and study in the Hindu college. After studying for three years there, he came back to Guwahati and took further lessons in English from Mr. Blend. He also took up some lessons in Sanskrit and Urdu.

He got married in 1846 and took a government job the following year. He served as the Dewan of the king of Bijani, as a Munsif, and Junior Assistance Commisioner among other positions.

Anandaram Dhekial Phukan started his literary life at the age of 17. From then until his demise, his sole aim was the development of his land Assam, and its people. This led to Col. Hopkins to compare him to the Raja Rammohan Roy of Bengal.

Phukan published 'ইংলেণ্ডৰ বিৱৰণ' (Description of England) on the Assamese magazine Orunudoi (অৰুণোদই) in 1847. In 1849, he published 'অসমীয়া‌ ল'ৰাৰ মিত্ৰ' (Assamese Children's Friend) in two volumes containing almost 400 pages which is considered a milestone in the story of Assamese literature.

In the era of colonial India, education was largely imparted in foreign languages like English and Bengali. Anandaram Dhekial Phukan recognised that while learning foreign languages like English was necessary for global communication and competitive growth, neglecting one's mother tongue and native language would ultimately erode the cultural foundation of society. He strongly advocated for the introduction of vernacular education in Assamese, emphasizing that learning in one's native language would enhance the understanding of concepts and real-life situations among the masses. Phukan argued that true education could not take root unless it was in a language that the people could fully understand and engage with.

In 1853, when Moffat Mills came to Assam to review the economic condition, Anandaram Dhekial Phukan presented him with a report written in lucid English describing the political and administrative situation or Assam, in-depth analysis of problems faced by the Assamese language regarding its implementation and official usage of the language due to imposition of Bengali.

Phukan's resistance to the use of Bengali as the medium of instruction in Assam's primary schools was particularly significant. In his seminal work, he argued that primary education should be imparted in the mothertongue. He pointed out that Bengali, being a foreign language in Assam, created significant obstacles in education, as neither the teachers not the students were fluent in it. The result was a gross misunderstanding or concepts, with students unable to grasp the full meaning of the subjects being taught.

Furthermore, Phukan criticised the educational system for using textbooks in Bengali, which were inaccessible to most of Assam's population.

Anandaram Dhekial Phukan also recognised the importance of using Assamese in courts and administrative matters. He strongly objected to the imposition of Bengali as the court language, emphasizing that it violated the rights of the Assamese people. Phukan believed that the legal and judicial system should be accessible to the common people and this could only be achieved by using the native language.

The root of all this, the Bengali imposition in Assam had its roots in colonial administrative policies. British officers who lacked the initiative to learn Assamese, mistakenly regarded Assamese as a mere variant or dialect of Bengali. This misconception, combined with the extremely similar alphabet of Assamese and Bengali, led to the erroneous belief that the two languages were essentially the same. Bengali was adopted as the official language in Assam's courts and schools, leading to widespread discontent among the Assamese populace.

Anandaram Dhekial Phukan was at the forefront of this movement, known as the 'Assamese Renaissance', a period of resilience and resistance to the imposition of a foreign language on the soil of Assam. Phukan believed that the imposition of Bengali threatened to erase the Assamese cultural identity. Phukan meticulously documented the differences between the two languages, proving that Assamese was a distinct language with its own grammar, syntax and vocabulary.

In his work, "A Few Remarks on the Assamese Language and on Vernacular Education In Assam", Phukan provided concrete examples to illustrate the linguistic differences between Assamese and Bengali. Through comparative analyses of everyday words, literary passages and even Sanskrit texts, Phukan demonstrated that has Assamese was not a mere variant of Bengali but a unique and independent language with a rich literary history.

Phukan's comparison of Assamese and Bengali went beyond vocabulary. He argued that while Assamese and Bengali shared certain commonalities due to their Sanskritic origins, this did not make them the same language. His meticulous research and clear arguments helped establish Assamese as a language in its own right, distinct from Bengali. This intellectual defence of Assamese laid the foundation for the eventual restoration of Assamese as the official language of Assam.

One of Phukan's most significant achievements was the restoration of Assamese as the language of courts. For many years, Bengali had been imposed as the court language in Assam, creating a barrier between the legal system and the Assamese people. Phukan's tireless efforts to replace Bengali with Assamese resulted in the successful reintroduction of Assamese in Assam's judicial and educational system.

Drawing on the provisions of the Act XXIX of 1837, which had abolished Persian as the court language in Bengal and India and replaced it with regional languages like Bengali and Hindustani, Phukan argued that the same logic should be applied to Assam. If Persian can be replaced by Bengali and Hindustani in other regions, then Bengali could similarly be replaced by Assamese in Assam. Phukan's arguments were compelling and after years of advocacy, Assamese was finally restored as the court language in Assam, a victory that was warmly welcomed by the Assamese people.

Anandaram Dhekial Phukan's fight for the Assamese language was not just a linguistic battle, it was a philosophical and cultural one. Phukan understood that language was more than just a means of communication. It was the soul of the people and the culture, history and identity. He believed that the survival of the Assamese culture depended on the preservation and promotion of the Assamese language. Phukan argued that the Assamese people would lose their unique identity and be consumed by more dominant cultures if there isn't a strong linguistic foundation.

While Phukan advocated for learning of foreign languages like English, he stated that education in the native language was as much important.

Anandaram Dhekial Phukan's life was short, with his demise at the young age of 29 on 16th June 1859, but his legacy lasts. His tireless efforts proved fruitful for the implementation of Assamese as the state language of Assam in independent India in the future and in October 2024, Assamese got the status of a classical language as well which further proves the legitimacy of the language.

Through his simple pen name 'A Native', he created a safe future for the Assamese language and now it's on us, the newer generation to carry his legacy and the Assamese language forward...

Sources: https://w.wiki/5H7r

https://www.sentinelassam.com/more-news/editorial/anandaram-dhekial-phukan-pioneer-of-assamese-renaissance-and-guardian-of-assamese-language

We all already know about the Kamba Ramayanam, the Tamizh Ramayana, as the first Ramayana to be translated from Sanskrit to another language. But, most of us are unaware that, the first Ramayana to be translated from Sanskrit to another Indo-Aryan language and the third Ramayana to be translated to another language, preceded only by the Tamizh and Telugu Ramayana, is actually from our own state Assam. It is called the 'Xoptokando Ramayon' (সপ্তকাণ্ড ৰামায়ণ), authored by the 14th century Assamese poet Madhav Kandali who translated the Valmiki Ramayana to Assamese. Most of the Xoptokando Ramayon was written by Madhav Kandali upon the request of the Kachari king Mahamanikya. In his court, as his court poet Madhav Kandali authored the translated version as a long poem. The poetic work uses various metres for different moods and situations. Some of the metres used are 'pada' (fourteen syllables, four lines of verses), 'jhumura' (four lines, with eight syllables each), 'dulari' (three lines, first and second has six syllables each and the third has eight syllables), and 'chhavi' (like 'dulari' but with different syllabic structure). The 'pada' metre became very popular in later Assamese compositions.

The Xoptokando Ramayon is also regarded one of the earliest written examples of the Assamese language.

A unique feature of this work is the non-heroic portrayal of Lord Rama, Sita and other characters as stated by Madhav Kandali himself which apparently made the translated version 'unsuitable' for religious purposes. Moreover, there was a critical overview of the character of Rama rather than blind praise. Plus, Sita wasn't shown as a calm and composed woman. Her emotions were shown raw. She sometimes cried while thumping her chest, or pointed fingers at those who questioned her character and was shown as a defiant woman, showing actual human feminine emotions. This feature disturbed a later post, Ananta Kandali, who was a disciple of Mahapurush Srimanta Sankardeva, who was moved enough to comment on it. According to one tale called the 'Guru Sorito', the poet Ananta Kandali apparently tried to erase the Xoptokando Ramayon and replace it with a Ramayana of his own that was conservative in manner. After which, Madhav Kandali apparently appeared in the dream of his disciple Sankardeva and told him to preserve the Ramayana.

By then, the first and last chapters of the Ramayana were lost, called the Adikanda and Uttarakanda.

After having the dream, Sankardeva told his disciple Madhabdeva to author the Adikanda while he himself began work on translating the Uttarakanda. They both, hence completed the Xoptokando Ramayon in the 15th century. There were also undeniable later additions and refinements by poets like Ananta Kandali and others which sophisticated the work.

Sankardeva praises his teacher Madhav Kandali after the completion of the poem. This poetic work had a great influence on Sankardeva and later Assamese poets.

This work is one of the many examples of the richness of the Assamese language and Assamese Vaishnavite culture.

Source: https://w.wiki/5HhR

The Dimasa kingdom, or the Kachari kingdom (কছাৰী ৰাজ্য) was a late medieval kingdom in Southern Assam, ruled by the Dimasa kings. The origin of the Dimasa kingdom is not clear. According to folktales, the Dimasas had their own domain in Kamarupa (ancient Assam) and their king belonged to a lineage called Ha-tsung-tsa or Ha-chem-sa, a name first mentioned in a coin from 1520.

The historical accounts of the Dimasas begin with mentions in Ahom buranjis. The Ahom buranjis called the Dimasa kings 'khun timisa' and placed them initially in Dimapur where Timisa is a corruption of Dimasa.

The Dimasa kingdom did not record their history and much of the early information come from other sources.

Ekasarana biographies of Sankardeva written after his death use the name 'Kachari' for the Dimasa people and their kingdom and record that around 1516, the Baro-Bhuyans at Alipukhuri came into conflict with their Dimasa neighbours which escalated into the Dimasa king preparing to attack them. One of the earliest mentions of the word 'Kachari' is found in the Bhagavat of Sankardeva in the section composed during the later part of his life in the Koch kingdom where he uses it synonymously with the word 'Kirata'.

Another early mention comes from 'Kacharir niyam' (Rule of the Kacharis) composed during the reign of Tamradhwaj Narayan who ruled from 1697-1708 when the Dimasa rulers were still ruling in Maibang.

A coin dated 1520 commemorating a decisive victory over enemies is one of the earliest direct evidence of the historical kingdom. The first capital of the kingdom was in Dimapur, which eventually fell to the Ahoms after the Ahom-Dimasa Wars (1520s-1530s).

After conquering the Chutia kingdom (1523–24), Ahom king Suhungmung tried to recover territories earlier lost to the Dimasas and therefore in 1526, Ahom forces attacked the Dimasa kingdom.

In the war, Dimasa king Khorapha was killed and his brother Khunkhara became king.

Both kingdoms temporarily agreed to keep the Dhansiri River as the border.

But the peace didn't last long. War resumed.

The Dimasas first defeated the Ahoms near Marangi and after which, the Ahoms captured forts like Nenguriya and advanced toward the capital of the Dimasas, Dimapur.

A Dimasa prince named Detchung sought Ahom support to claim the Dimasa throne and after which, the Ahoms claimed that the Dimasa king was under their protection.

Then the Dimasas later helped the Ahoms fight the Turko-Afghan invader from Bengal, Turbak Khan (1532–33).

Now, Detchung after being under the Ahoms for some time, later rebelled against the Ahom control.

This led to Suhungmung invading the Dimasa kingdom again, capturing and killing Detchung.

The Ahom forces occupied the Dimasa capital, Dimapur in 1536.

After this defeat, the Dimasas abandoned Dimapur permanently.

According to archaeological evidences and historical mentions, Dimapur was a large fortified city.

Moreover, the Dimasas were using advanced brick construction at a time when Ahom architecture still relied heavily on bamboo and timber.

Dimapur had huge brick walls, water tanks, brick gateways and giant stone monoliths with carvings of animals and birds.

One interesting fact about Dimapur is that, despite Sanskrit coins issued by Dimasa kings, observers noted that there was very little Hindu influence in the city at that time.

After losing Dimapur, there was about a 22-year gap with unclear rule in the kingdom.

Around 1558–59 CE, Nirbhaya Narayana established a new capital at a region called Maibang in the hills.

Although, not all Dimasa people moved to this new capital.

The plains Dimasas gradually developed differently in language and customs while in the hills, the Dimasas ruled over local Naga groups.

Earlier Dimasa kings claimed legitimacy through military achievements. But Maibang rulers instead claimed descent from the legendary ancestor Hachensa.

This marked a shift from legitimacy through military wins to legitimacy through bloodline.

This shift had a strong impact on the governance of the kingdom.

Next, we arrive to the Koch invasion of the Dimasa kingdom. The Koch general Chilarai defeated the Ahoms and then invaded the Dimasa kingdom. This was known as the 'Koch invasion of the Kachari kingdom'.

The Dimasas thus became tributaries (subordinate allies) of the Koch kingdom. Koch general Chilarai reorganized territories, created buffer states, and occupied parts of modern day Cachar.

The tribute paid by the Dimasas after their defeat was enormous. 70,000 rupees, 1,000 gold coins and 60 elephants.

Although this also proved that the kingdom was still wealthy and powerful.

The Dimasas fought the neighbouring Jaintia kingdom over a place called Dimarua.

Dimasa king Satrudaman became one of the most powerful rulers who controlled modern day Dima Hasao, the Dhansiri valley, the Cachar plains, and parts of Sylhet. He even issued coins after conquering Sylhet.

But, by the time of king Birdarpan Narayan (mid-1600s), Dimasa control over the Dhansiri valley disappeared. The area became just a jungle separating Ahom and Dimasa realms.

Then comes the Ahom invasion of Maibang.

Dimasa king Tamradhwaj tried to become fully independent and in response, the Ahom swargadeo Rudra Singha invaded with huge armies. The Maibang forts were destroyed and Tamradhwaj had to flee to the Jaintia kingdom but was captured and imprisoned there. Ahom Swargadeo Rudra Singha then invaded the Jaintia kingdom too and captured the Jaintia king and annexed territories of both Jaintia and Dimasa kingdoms.

Now let's discuss the Dimasa governance system.

The kingdom had three major royal clans, Bodosa, Thaosengsa and Hachemsa.

The kings were assisted by ministers and councils.

Around 40 clans (Sengphongs) sent representatives to the royal assembly called the Mel.

The Mel could even help choose kings, limiting royal power.

Different clans were specialized in different precessions like cooks, ambassadors, fishermen, writers, administrators etc.

After the Ahom invasion of Maibang, the Dimasa kingdom shifted to Khaspur in Cachar plains. Khaspur was originally linked to the Koch kingdom.

Through marriage between a Koch princess and a Dimasa prince, the two kingdoms merged and the Dimasa rulers moved their capital to Khaspur near present-day Silchar in Southern Assam.

By 1745 CE, the Koch kingdom of Khaspur officially merged into the Dimasa kingdom.

Around 1790 CE, the Dimasa rulers officially adopted the Hindu Kshatriya (warrior) identity.

Brahmins promoted legends connecting the Dimasas to the Mahabharata, Bhima and Hidimbi's love story and their son Ghatotkacha as the ancestor of Dimasa kings. This was part of a wider process of Sanskritization.

During Dimasa king Krishna Chandra’s reign, the Moamoria rebels were sheltered in Cachar.

This caused conflicts with the Ahoms.

The Dimasa kingdom also helped Manipur fight the Burmese but the Burmese occupied the region in the early 19th century. And then, the British liberated the kingdom from Burmese rule. After the Treaty of Yandabo (1826) the British restored king Govinda Chandra. But Dimasa authority slowly weakened and the British gradually annexed the kingdom.

The hill regions were annexed in 1832 while the

remaining Cachar area was annexed in 1833.

This ended the independent Dimasa kingdom and its long history.

Sources:

1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dimasa\_Kingdom

2. "The comprehensive history of Assam volume 2" edited by Dr. HK Barpujari.

The Umachal rock inscription (উমাচল শিলালিপি) is one of the earliest epigraphic sources discovered in Assam, from the age of the Kamarupa kingdom. Dated to be from the 5th century CE, the rock inscription was discovered in the north-east side of the Nilachal Hills (called Umachal), near Guwahati. The artifact is dated on the basis of the identification of the named 'Surendra Varman' in it with the king of Kamarupa, Mahendra Varman (470–494 CE) of the Varman dynasty. The script is in the Nagari variety of the Gupta script and the language is Sanskrit prose. Though the Nilachal Hills is known for Shakta worship and the Kamakhya Temple, a shakta or tantra site, the temple mentioned in the inscription was for Lord Balabhadra, a god of the Vaishnavite pantheon.

The content of the inscription goes as follows:

Transliteration into Latin script:

mahārājādhirāja-śrī

surendravarmmaṇā-kr̥tma

bhagavataḥ-valabhadra

svmināya-idaṁ-guhaṁ

Transliteration into Assamese script:

মহাৰজাধিৰাজ শ্ৰী সুৰেন্দ্ৰবৰ্ম্মণা কৃত্মা ভগৱতঃ বলভদ্ৰ স্বমিনায় ইদম্ গুহম্

Translation into English:

This cave (temple) of the illustrious Lord Balabhadra has been constructed by Maharajadhiraja Sri Surendra Varman.

This stone inscription is one of the important ones which helped historians further to trace ancient Assam's history and its timeline.

Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Umachal_rock_inscription

The Pala dynasty of Assam (অসমৰ পাল ৰাজবংশ) is an often under discussed dynasty which happened to be the last dynasty of the kingdom of Kamarupa. It ruled roughly from 900 CE to 1100 CE. It was the last major dynasty to rule the ancient kingdom of Kamarupa before it got fragmented into several small kingdoms and succeeded by the Ahom kingdom.

The Pala dynasty succeeded the Mlechchha dynasty.

It was founded by King Brahma Pala. Brahma Pala was likely elected by regional chiefs, as suggested by historical sources.

The Pala dynasty was a Hindu dynasty in nature, and its rulers claimed descent from the legendary Narakasura lineage to strengthen legitimacy.

The rulers of the dynasty used the imperial title 'Pragjyotisadhipati'. Another fact related to the title used by the kings is that, there was little to no mention of the name 'Kamarupa' in the kingdom. Instead of Kamarupa, the records used the name 'Pragjyotisha' to refer to their kingdom.

Their capitals included Durjaya (Present day North Guwahati), Kamarupanagara (present day Kamrup Metro district), Harrupeshvar (present day Tezpur city).

The major rulers of the dynasty included Brahma Pala (the founder of the dynasty) who ruled around 900-920 CE,

Ratna Pala who ruled around 920-960 CE, who is also associated with military campaigns against the Pala rulers of ancient Bengal (completely different from Assam's Pala dynasty),

Indra Pala, who ruled around 960-990 CE,

Go Pala, who ruled around 990-1015 CE,

Harsha Pala, who ruled around 1015-1035 CE,

Dharma Pala, who ruled around 1035-1060 CE, and Jaya Pala who was among the last rulers of the dynasty. The later Kamarupa Pala rulers after this gradually became weaker due to internal instability and pressure from neighbouring powers such as the Pala Empire.

One of the last major rulers of the line was Jaya Pala and during his period, Ramapala of the Pala Empire launched campaigns into Kamarupa. After which, many regions of Kamarupa became a part of the Pala Empire.

This is sourced by the poem Ramacharitam, a biographical poem written by Ramapala's court poet Sandhyakar Nandi that Ramapala's reign was marked by successful military campaigns including the subjugation of Kamarupa, Rar and Orissa.

Following which, Ramapala did not fully annex the region but rather appointed Timgyadeva as his governor to rule Kamarupa. Timgyadeva governed as a vassal of the Pala Empire for about 16 years, from 1110 to 1126 CE.

Then Timgyadeva rebelled against Ramapala who then sent Vaidyadeva to defeat him. Vaidyadeva defeated Timgyadeva and became the new ruler of Kamarupa under the suzerainty of Pala Empire. The Kamauli copper plate inscription, dated back to 1139 CE mentions Vaidyadeva in his fourth year of rule under Kumarapala.

And then came Prithu Deva who ruled Kamarupa and is famous for repelling the invasions by Bakhtiyar Khilji into Kamarupa. This is how the political scenario continued after the decline of the Pala Dynasty.

The importance of the Pala dynasty in ancient Assam's history cannot be ignored.

The dynasty preserved political continuity of the Kamarupa kingdom after the earlier dynasties declined.

After the fall of Kamarupa, Assam got fragmented into several kingdoms:

The Sutiyas, the Kacharis, the Kamatas, the Baro-Bhuyans and later, the Ahoms who succeeded the Kamarupa kingdom and united Assam again and ruled it for 600 years.

The Pala dynasty has undeniable contributions in the development of medieval Assamese temple art and sculpting. The dynasty's emphasis on art and architecture can be seen in the Madan Kamdev architecture style. The dynasty's copper plate records also helped modern historians to understand the ancient history of Assam before the arrival of the Ahoms.

The Pala dynasty represents one of the final phases of ancient Kamarupa and ancient Assamese kingdoms before the rise of medieval Assamese kingdoms.

By now, almost all of us are aware that Tagore is connected to Lakshminath Bezbarua, as Bezbarua married the niece of Tagore, Pragyasundari Devi. But another under discussed story about Tagore is his three visits to Assam. In 1919, in 1923 and in 1927. He also had close connections to numerous Assamese writers and famous personalities, for example, Deshbhakta Tarunram Phukan's connection to Thakur's family. Then Surya Kumar Bhuyan, the renowned historian of Assam, went to Jorasankor Thakurbari with his wife and met Tagore. Bhuyan's write-up 'One Hour with Tagore' gives readers a vivid description of the meeting.

Tagore stood as an ideal figure for the Assamese litterateurs. He had the fortune to be acquainted with poems of Bengali poet and folksong writer Hasan Raja during one of his visits to Assam.

Some historical photographs show Tagore with Assamese figures. One such shows him with Satyanath Bora, Hemchandra Goswami, Bholanath Das and Banikanta Kakati. Another one shows him students of the Cotton College in Guwahati.

During Tagore's 1919 Guwahati visit, he received massive public reception. He then visited Shillong, the former capital of undivided Assam and stayed there at Brookside Compound, a house in the Rilbong area on the outskirts of the city. He also wrote a poem named 'Shillong-er Chithi' meaning 'The letter to Shillong'. He also visited the Barak Valley of Assam, particularly the Karimganj area which he named Sribhumi translating to the Land of Lakshmi. In his memory, the Assam government renamed Karimganj district as Sribhumi in 2024. Moreover, a university named 'Rabindranath Thakur University' was built in Hojai.

His influence on Assam and its personalities remains significant to this date. His story is a perfect example of Assam's long lasting ties with Bengal.

As our previous moderators slowly left reddit, the subreddit got inactive and eventually became dead. But I think there are still some people searching for a subreddit dedicated to the Assamese language. Henceforth, I welcome anyone who wants to join. You guys can post your self made creations like poetry, short stories etc. and we're also searching for active mods who have an expertise in the Assamese language. On a side note, we're also open to hosting Assam's endangered indigenous languages that don't have any space of their own in the internet.

Most importantly, please send recommendations in the comments and consider joining it if you guys like the idea!

চিৰ চেনেহী মোৰ ভাষা জননী। জয় আই অসম।

By now, regarding the history of Assam, most of the people across India are aware of the Battle of Saraighat and the courage and bravery of the Ahom army under the command of General Lachit Borphukan against the invading Mughal-Rajput army, and the victory of the Ahoms in this conflict. People are also aware of the fact that the brave Ahoms resisted and also defeated Mughal invaders 17 times when they tried to annex Assam and enter the Northeast of India. But, an often under discussed part of Assam's, and especially the Ahom kingdom"s history is about its brave women who sacrificed everything for their beloved country. There are many examples of such women, stretching different periods. But today, we are going to discuss about one, who with her extreme love and devotion to her husband and her nation, went out on the battlefield despite having no experience of warfare. Yes, I'm talking about the brave Nang Mula, or as we say in Assamese, Mula Gabhoru.

Many of you might not have heard her name, might not have even known that such women existed in the past, from the soil of Assam. But she is one such historical figure who has continued to inspire Assamese women centuries after her martyrdom.

Now, let's learn about her.

Nang Mula (1486-1532), or Mula Gabharu was born in the year 1486 and was the daughter of the Ahom king Saopha Supimphaa and she was the wife of Ahom general Phrasengmung Borgohain and had a child with him named Ton Kham according to historical sources. Nang Mula's brother, Suhungmung or as we popularly call him Swargadeo Swarganarayan, succeeded their father Supimphaa as the new Ahom king.

Now, as we're clear regarding her role in her family, let's talk about her role in the war...

Nang Mula's husband Phrasengmung Borgohain had heard that Khunlung (one of the Ahom ministers) and some other warriors lost their lives in the hands of Turbak Khan, a Turko-Afghan invader leading an army from the Bengal Sultanate to conquer Assam in 1532 known popularly as 'Turbak's invasion of Assam'. Hearing about this from her husband, Nang Mula apparently asked him to join the war and save their country. She said, "There are dark clouds in the skies of Assam. To preserve Assam's freedom and protect it from destruction, you must join the war."

Hearing her words, Phrasengmung Borgohain was deeply motivated and replied, "You are an idol of bravery, and with you as my wife, I am fearless. To me, life and death are not important than the independence of this country. The shield of self-defence and the weapon of courage is the best shield." Nang Mula then replied, "Be able to protect your country, your own son, and your own wealth and honour with these words."

Unfortunately, Nang Mula couldn't prepare a leather chestplate for her husband in time, which would protect him from strikes. Seeing this, he went out without any protection, only keeping his faith and will power towards his country and his wife. Before heading out for the war, Phrasengmung Borgohain promised to his wife that he will defeat Turbak Khan by doing an Ahom ritual known as Kin Lao, where he lit 101 earthen lamps and took the determination of protecting his country, his son, his awards and honours. He then joined the Ahom soldiers. With initial victory, the Ahom army was confident. But unfortunately, the invading Bengali forces were way more powerful. As a result, after a week of fighting in the war, Phrasengmung Borgohain lost his life to Turbak Khan as he had no armour. The news of her husband's death devastated Nang Mula. In mourning, she pledged that she would destroy the murderers of her beloved. She took a hengdang (Ahom traditional sword) and went out into the warfield. By then, the Ahom army was weakening with it losing many of its soldiers. The Bengali army was advancing. That's when Nang Mula brought out large groups of Assamese women to fight in the war. The enemy forces had perhaps experienced something like this for the first times in their lives. Women, instead of mourning the death of their partners, came out into the warfield to take revenge and preserve the independence of their beloved nation, Assam. The Bengali forces were pushed back by the joint Ahom army now. After four days of fighting, Nang Mula spotted her husband's killer, Turbak Khan in the middle of the warfield in the Battle of Kachua. She didn't wait a single moment then and ran towards him with the hengdang in her hand. She resonated bravery, feminine pride and the will to fight till her last breath at that moment. She fought bravely with Turbak. But as she wasn't experienced in warfare, Turbak eventually killed her. Her martyrdom sent waves of patriotism and loyalty to Assam and the Ahom kingdom among the defending Ahom soldiers. They fought for the next days with all their strength, dedicating it to their warrior lady.

As a result, under the leadership of Kanseng Borpatrogohain, a Naga origin Ahom minister, Turbak Khan and the Bengali army was defeated in an area called Mokh. Her story still continues to inspire the women of Assam. She is a symbol of female bravery and pride in the Northeast of India. She may be not well known like Rani Lakshmibai or Rani Ahilyabai Holkar, but her sacrifice cannot be ignored. Let us remember her courage and sacrifice and preserve the beautiful indigenous identity of Assam.

Maybe without courageous people like her and many others, this land could've been absorbed by larger external powers today.

Let us remember her every year on Mula Gabhoru day in the 29th of May every year and cherish our ancient, brave and sovereign history.

জয় আই অসম।

Sources:

Wikipedia article on Nang Mula and the book Mula Gabharu: A story of extreme valour and patriotism by Author Hiranya Borah.

(Image reference: Pic 1- Traditional Assamese delicacies served to guests during Bihu.

Pic 2- An Assamese handloom)

(Image credits: Pic 1- @kavya9520, Pinterest.

Pic 2- @cocoaandjasmine, Pinterest.)

Most people think Rongali Bihu is just Goru Bihu, Manuh Bihu, Guxai Bihu and then dancing. But if you look at older structures of Bohag Bihu, it was never just two or three days. It was a sequence of multiple named days, each tied to a specific part of life.

Some of these days survived clearly. Others became faint, regional, or confused in meaning. Kutum Bihu and Tator Bihu fall exactly into that category. They still exist in memory and practice, but not always with the same interpretation across Assam.

Both are said to fall after Guxai Bihu, even overlapping depending on local counting of days. This confusion itself tells something important. These were not rigid calendar events. They were functional observances tied to social and economic life.

Kutum Bihu is the easier one to understand, but still often reduced to something too simple.

The word “Kutum” literally means kin or relatives. On this day, people visit relatives, share meals, and maintain social bonds.

At first glance, this sounds like just a social custom. But in an older agrarian society, this was not optional or casual.

Assamese rural life depended heavily on networks of kinship. Labour, marriage alliances, land sharing, even survival during floods or crop failure depended on these relationships. Kutum Bihu functioned as a renewal of those bonds at the beginning of the agricultural year.

It was not just visiting for food. It was reaffirming who your people are.

This also explains why food sharing is central here. Pitha, laru, rice, fish. These are not festive extras. They represent stored wealth and agricultural continuity. Sharing them publicly signals trust and mutual obligation.

In many areas, this day also acted as a space where news, disputes, and arrangements were discussed informally. In that sense, Kutum Bihu sits somewhere between festival and social contract.

Now comes the more misunderstood one.

Tator Bihu.

In older lists of Bohag Bihu days, one finds names like Tator Bihu.

The word “Tator” is linked to “Taat” meaning loom.

This shifts the entire focus.

Tator Bihu is associated with weaving, particularly the loom which was central to Assamese households. In traditional society, weaving was not just craft. It was economic production, identity, and daily necessity.

Almost every household maintained a loom. Clothing was not bought. It was made.

So a day dedicated to the loom makes sense only in that context.

Tator Bihu marks the preparation or symbolic activation of weaving activity for the new year. After the beginning of the agricultural cycle, attention also shifts to domestic production. Threads, fabrics, and garments needed to be prepared for the year ahead.

There are also interpretations where Tator Bihu overlaps with Kutum Bihu, the day of the visiting relatives.

In some regions, instead of a distinct Tator Bihu, the focus shifts to Kutum Bihu. This again shows how fluid these observances were.

What one region preserved as loom centred, another preserved as agriculture centred.

Both point to the same underlying idea.

Bihu was never just celebration.

It was a structured recognition of everything needed for the coming year.

Animals on Goru Bihu.

Humans on Manuh Bihu.

Devotion on Guxai Bihu.

Kinship on Kutum Bihu.

Production through loom on Tator Bihu.

When seen together, a pattern appears.

Each day is not random. Each day corresponds to a pillar of life.

What is interesting is how these days faded differently over time.

Kutum Bihu survived more visibly because social visiting remained part of life even in modern times.

Tator Bihu became less visible because household weaving declined with industrial cloth and market systems. The loom moved out of daily necessity into cultural symbol.

That is why many people today know Kutum Bihu, but barely recognise Tator Bihu.

It is not because one was more important.

It is because one remained relevant.

Another important point is that these observances were never standardised across Assam. Bihu itself is not a single fixed system. Different communities, regions, and even villages maintained variations.

So the idea that Kutum Bihu and Tator Bihu must fall on one exact fixed day everywhere is historically inaccurate.

They exist more as part of a sequence than a rigid calendar.

And that is why you will still hear different interpretations.

Some count Kutum Bihu as the third day after Guxai Bihu.

Some merge it with other days.

Some barely distinguish Tator Bihu at all.

This is not confusion.

This is how older cultural systems work when they are lived rather than imposed.

If anything, Kutum Bihu and Tator Bihu reveal something deeper about Bihu itself.

It was never just a festival.

It was a cycle that acknowledged relationships, labour, tools, and survival.

And in that cycle, even something as ordinary as visiting relatives or sitting at a loom had a place.

Not symbolic.

Essential.

(Reference images: The popular Geetanagar field Sarbojanin Durga Puja 2025, Guwahati, Assam. Pictures clicked by me.)

Durga Puja in Assam rarely gets spoken about outside the state, and when it does, it is usually in comparison with Kolkata. That comparison itself hides something important. The scale may be different, but the character of Durga Puja in places like Guwahati, Silchar and Dibrugarh has evolved in its own way, shaped by geography, migration, and a long history of Shakti worship that existed here long before the modern festival format arrived.

The starting point is often misunderstood. Durga Puja in Assam is not simply an imported festival. The region has had a strong tradition of goddess worship for centuries, anchored in sites like the Kamakhya temple. This older Shakta base is what allowed the later, more organised community puja format to take root and spread.

The public pandal style that people now associate with Durga Puja came later, influenced by developments in Bengal during the early modern and colonial periods. But in Assam, it did not replace existing traditions. It merged with them.

That is why the Durga Puja of Assam feels slightly different if you look closely.

In Guwahati, the festival is massive in number but not always in national visibility. Hundreds of pujas take place across the city every year, spreading through neighbourhoods rather than concentrating into a few iconic locations.

Some of the oldest pujas here still follow a quieter, more ritual focused structure. Panbazar Harisabha is one example, with over a century of continuous celebration, where the emphasis remains on Vedic rituals rather than spectacle.

At the same time, modern Guwahati also reflects the changing nature of the festival. There are elaborate pandals, themed decorations, night crowds, and long immersion processions along the Brahmaputra. But even here, the geography plays a role. The river is not just a backdrop. It becomes part of the ritual itself during immersion, something that feels very different from urban Kolkata settings.

Silchar presents another layer.

In the Barak Valley, Durga Puja carries a stronger Bengali cultural continuity, but even here it does not remain unchanged. Over time, local influences shape the celebration. Themes in pandals often reflect not just religious imagery but regional culture, music, and identity. There have been instances where pandals incorporate figures from Assamese cultural life, showing a blending rather than a separation.

The atmosphere in Silchar is also less fragmented. The scale is smaller compared to metropolitan centres, which creates a more close knit experience. Pandal hopping still exists, but it feels more like moving through a shared space than navigating a crowd of disconnected events.

Dibrugarh offers yet another variation.

Here, Durga Puja intersects with Upper Assam’s historical memory. Some pandals consciously incorporate regional history into their themes. One well known example is the Masterpara Durga Puja, which has used the story of Lachit Borphukan and the Battle of Saraighat as a central artistic concept, blending devotion with historical storytelling.

This is not something commonly seen in larger metropolitan pujas where themes tend to focus on global concepts or abstract art. In Dibrugarh, there is often a stronger pull toward local narratives.

There is also a noticeable shift toward environmental awareness in some of these towns. Certain puja committees have moved toward biodegradable materials and reduced plastic use, reflecting both ecological concerns and the realities of smaller urban spaces.

What ties all these places together is not uniformity, but adaptation.

Durga Puja in Assam is shaped by multiple layers. There is the older Shakta foundation, the later Bengali style public puja format, and then the regional influences of Assamese society, landscape, and history. None of these layers fully dominate the others.

This is why it often feels understated from the outside.

Kolkata’s Durga Puja has become a global cultural event, with large budgets, corporate sponsorships, and international attention.

Assam’s Durga Puja, on the other hand, remains more dispersed, less commercialised in many places, and closer to community level organisation. That does not make it lesser. It just makes it different.

If anything, the lack of overwhelming visibility allows certain older elements to survive. Ritual focused pujas, local storytelling through themes, and a closer connection between neighbourhood and festival are still visible here.

The immersion scenes in towns like Guwahati and Dibrugarh capture this well. Crowds gather along riverbanks, processions move through familiar streets, and the festival ends not in a spectacle designed for cameras, but in something that still feels rooted in place.

It is easy to overlook these celebrations because they do not compete for attention in the same way. But if you look at them on their own terms, they reveal a version of Durga Puja that is less about scale and more about continuity.

Not quieter, just less amplified.

And in that space, these pujas have built an identity that does not depend on being compared to anything else.

(Image credits: Assaminfo.com)

When we think of Ahom capitals, names like Charaideo, Garhgaon, and Rangpur come to mind. But beyond these political centres, there existed another kind of space that functioned almost like a specialised city. Not a capital of administration, but a capital of power. This was the elephant complex built during the reign of Swargadeo Pratap Singha in the 17th century, remembered today through the remains of Hatigarh and Hatisal.

To understand this, one has to first understand the place of elephants in the Ahom world.

In medieval Assam, elephants were not just animals. They were military assets, symbols of sovereignty, and tools of state expansion. Control over elephants meant control over warfare, construction, transport, and even diplomacy. Buranjis and later historical works consistently describe elephants as one of the most important elements of Ahom state power.

It is within this context that the idea of an elephant centre or “elephant city” emerges.

During the reign of Swargadeo Pratap Singha from 1603 to 1641, a massive project was undertaken in the region of present-day Jorhat. This was Hatigarh, literally meaning elephant fort or elephant enclosure. It was not a fort in the conventional sense. It was an engineered landscape designed to capture, hold, and process wild elephants on a large scale.

Hatigarh consisted of large earthen ramparts arranged strategically across the terrain. These were not random embankments. They formed a system that guided herds of wild elephants into controlled enclosures, using techniques similar to khedda operations. Once trapped, the elephants would be moved to a nearby area known as Hatisal, where they were kept, trained, and integrated into the royal system.

What makes this site remarkable is its scale and intention.

Historical accounts suggest that Pratap Singha aimed to capture an enormous number of elephants from this region. Some narratives even mention a target of one lakh elephants, which, whether literal or symbolic, indicates the ambition behind the project.

If we look at this not just as a trapping ground but as a system, Hatigarh and Hatisal together functioned almost like an industrial complex. Wild elephants were sourced from forests, processed through capture, then trained and deployed for state use. This included warfare, construction of embankments and forts, transportation of heavy materials, and ceremonial purposes.

In that sense, calling it an “elephant city” is not entirely inaccurate. It was a concentrated zone where the entire lifecycle of elephant management took place under royal supervision.

There is also an environmental dimension to this story.

The very existence of Hatigarh indicates that the region around Jorhat once supported dense populations of wild elephants. The landscape was not the tea-dominated terrain we see today, but a forested zone integrated into the Ahom resource network.

The Ahoms did not merely exploit this resource. They developed specialised knowledge systems around it. Texts like Hastividyarnava, composed under royal patronage, describe elephant behaviour, classification, training methods, and treatment. This reflects a highly organised understanding of elephantry, not just practical but also intellectual.

However, the story of this elephant centre is not one of uninterrupted success.

Accounts mention that many elephants kept at Hatisal died due to an unknown disease. This forced the abandonment of the project. Whether due to ecological miscalculation, overcrowding, or disease transmission, it shows the limits of even a powerful state when dealing with nature at such scale.

After this, while elephant capture and management continued in other parts of Upper Assam, the grand vision of Hatigarh as a massive centralized system did not fully materialise.

Even then, the broader network of elephant zones remained active. Places across Upper Assam functioned as hati mahals, where elephants were captured and trained. This indicates that the Ahom state maintained a decentralised but widespread system of elephant management, even if the centralised “elephant city” experiment declined.

Today, the remains of Hatigarh still exist, though largely reduced to earthen mounds and traces in the landscape. They do not immediately reveal their past significance. But when placed in historical context, they represent one of the most ambitious resource management projects of the Ahom kingdom.

It also changes how we understand Ahom urbanism.

Not every important site was a capital filled with palaces and temples. Some were functional landscapes, built around specific state needs. Hatigarh was one such space, where the logic of the kingdom was expressed through control over one of its most valuable resources.

The idea of an elephant city, then, is not a myth in the sense of being fictional. It is a way of describing a real historical system, one that combined environment, engineering, military need, and royal ambition into a single space.

And in the quiet earthworks of Jorhat, that memory still survives.

Not as ruins of stone, but as marks left on the land itself.

(Image credits: Pratham Khabar News)

When people speak about Bihu today, the focus is usually on open fields, dancing, songs, and community gatherings. But beneath this visible layer exists a quieter, older form of observance that many households once followed with deep seriousness. This is what is remembered as Guxai Bihu, a domestic and sacred version of Bihu that centres not on performance, but on devotion.

The word “Guxai” is closely tied to “Gosai”, meaning lord or deity. In the Assamese context, it refers to household gods or tutelary spirits that protect the family. Guxai Bihu, therefore, is not a public festival. It is a ritual offering made within the household to these deities during the Bihu period, especially in Bohag.

This practice reflects a time when religion in Assam was not only institutional or temple-based, but also deeply domestic. Every household maintained a sacred space, often a corner of the home or a separate structure, where deities were invoked and honoured. During Bihu, this space became the centre of ritual activity.

The timing of Guxai Bihu usually overlaps with the early days of Bohag Bihu, particularly on the day of Manuh Bihu or the following days. After the completion of Goru Bihu and the purification rituals associated with cattle and agricultural tools, attention shifted to the household and its spiritual well-being.

The rituals of Guxai Bihu begin with cleaning and preparing the sacred space. The altar is decorated with fresh leaves, seasonal flowers, and sometimes symbolic items like bamboo, paddy, and water vessels. These elements are not random. They represent fertility, continuity, and the cycle of life that Bihu itself celebrates.

Offerings made during Guxai Bihu are simple but meaningful. Rice, pitha, laru, curd, and sometimes fish or meat are presented to the household deity. In some communities, a portion of the newly harvested or stored grain is also offered, symbolising gratitude and a request for future abundance.

An important part of this practice is the lighting of earthen lamps. The lamp is not just a ritual object but a symbol of presence. It marks the belief that the deity is invited into the household at that moment. Prayers are offered quietly, often by the eldest members of the family, invoking protection, prosperity, and health.

In many traditional households, Guxai Bihu also included chanting or recitation of mantras, though these were rarely written down. They were passed orally across generations. The language of these chants often carried older elements that predate the widespread influence of later religious movements in Assam.

The connection between Guxai Bihu and earlier belief systems is significant. Before the spread of Neo Vaishnavism, much of Assam’s religious life was shaped by a mix of animism, Shakta traditions, and localised deity worship. Household gods were central to this system. They were not distant or abstract. They were immediate, protective forces tied to the family lineage and land.

Even after the spread of Vaishnavite practices, Guxai Bihu did not disappear. Instead, it adapted. In many homes, the household deity came to be identified with Krishna or Vishnu, and the rituals began to include naam-kirtan or recitation from sacred texts. Yet the structure of the practice remained the same. The focus stayed within the household.

There is also an interesting relationship between Guxai Bihu and Husori. While Husori groups perform from house to house, blessing families through song and dance, Guxai Bihu is the inward counterpart. One is external and communal, the other internal and devotional. In earlier times, it is believed that Husori groups would only perform after the household had completed its Guxai rituals, indicating the primacy of the sacred over the celebratory.

In Upper Assam, especially in areas historically connected to older kingdoms like the Sutiyas and later Ahom territories, traces of Guxai Bihu practices have been documented through oral histories and ethnographic accounts. Though not always referred to by the same name, the idea of a household-focused Bihu ritual appears consistently.

Material culture also reflects this. Traditional homes often included a designated sacred space, sometimes raised or separated, which functioned as the centre of domestic worship. Items used during Bihu, such as xorai, earthen lamps, and offering vessels, were not merely decorative but integral to these rituals.

Over time, with urbanisation and changes in lifestyle, Guxai Bihu has become less visible. Many families no longer maintain a separate sacred space, and rituals have been simplified or discontinued. The public and performative aspects of Bihu have taken prominence, often overshadowing these quieter traditions.

Yet the essence of Guxai Bihu still survives in subtle ways. Lighting a lamp during Bihu, offering the first pitha to the deity, or saying a small prayer before celebrations begin are all echoes of this older practice.

Understanding Guxai Bihu adds another layer to how we see Bihu itself. It shows that Bihu was never only about community gatherings or seasonal joy. It was also about the relationship between the household and the unseen forces it believed in.

It reminds us that before the drums and dances, there was silence, a lamp, and a prayer within the home.

And in that space, Bihu truly began.

When we talk about Bihu today, we often imagine a unified Assamese festival. But if we go deeper into history, especially into the Sadiya-based Sutiya world, Bihu appears very different. It was not just celebration. It was ritual, devotion, and a reflection of an older cosmology that existed long before later religious standardisation.

The Sutiya community, originating from the medieval Sutiya Kingdom founded in the 12th century, carried one of the earliest structured forms of Bihu in the Brahmaputra valley. Their kingdom stretched across Upper Assam and parts of present Arunachal, with Sadiya as its cultural centre. This region is crucial because many historians identify it as one of the earliest zones where organised Bihu practices emerged.

One of the strongest pieces of historical evidence comes from a copper plate inscription dated 1401 CE, issued by King Lakshminarayan. It explicitly mentions land grants made during Bihu, proving that the festival was already institutionalised within the Sutiya polity. This is not folklore. It is epigraphic evidence tied to governance and ritual economy.

Even the word Bihu is believed to derive from “Bisu”, a term used by Deori and related groups meaning excessive joy. This linguistic link ties Bihu directly to the Sadiya Kachari cultural sphere, of which the Sutiyas were a dominant political force.

What makes Sutiya Bihu unique is its deep connection with fertility cults and goddess worship. Unlike the more later Vaishnavite-influenced forms of Bihu, the Sutiya version was centered around powerful female deities like Kechai Khati, Dikkaravasini, and Kolimoti. These were not abstract gods. They were territorial and living forces tied to land, rivers, and cycles of agriculture.

Bihu in this context began in the last phase of the month of Chot and continued into Bohag. It was not a single day festival but a sequence of ritual nights. One of the most important forms was Rati Bihu, performed at night in temple spaces called “thaan”. Young men and women danced continuously, and the dance itself was believed to be a manifestation of the goddess descending upon earth. The intensity of the movements was not just artistic expression but devotional embodiment.

The transition from Rati Bihu to Uruka marked another important ritual shift. Uruka, a term rooted in Sadiya Kachari vocabulary meaning “to end”, symbolised the completion of one agricultural cycle and the beginning of another. The following day, Goru Bihu, was dedicated to cattle, reflecting the agrarian base of the society where livestock was essential to survival.

One striking feature of Sutiya Bihu practices was the role of sacrifice. Animal sacrifice was commonly performed at temple altars dedicated to these deities. There are also references in historical accounts suggesting the existence of human sacrifice in the Sadiya region, though its direct association with Bihu remains debated. What is clear, however, is that the ritual system was far more intense and sacred than the modern celebratory form.

After the rituals at the temple, groups of youths would visit households to perform what we now call Husori. Importantly, this practice originally began from the temple, not from namghars or community spaces. The shift from temple-based Husori to namghar-based performance reflects the later influence of Neo Vaishnavism in Assam.

Archaeology also supports the religious and cultural importance of this system. The Tamreswari Temple at Sadiya stands as one of the most significant religious centres of the Sutiya kingdom. Dedicated to the goddess Kechai Khati, it functioned as both a spiritual and political hub. Though much of the structure is lost today, historical reconstruction using buranjis, archaeology, and oral traditions shows its central role in ritual life.

Other sites like Malinithan, attributed to Sutiya rulers, further indicate a developed temple culture with strong Shakta elements. These were not isolated shrines but part of a wider sacred geography tied to the kingdom’s identity.

The transformation of Bihu began after the fall of the Sutiya Kingdom in the early 16th century, following Ahom expansion into Sadiya. Over time, many Sutiya practices were absorbed, modified, or replaced within a broader Assamese cultural framework. The rise of Neo Vaishnavism further reshaped Bihu by reducing sacrificial elements and shifting focus toward community prayer and performance.

Yet traces of the older system remain. The temple origins of Husori, the agricultural symbolism of Goru Bihu, and even certain song motifs still carry echoes of the Sutiya worldview. Among Deori, Sonowal, and some Sutiya-descended groups, these older traditions survive more visibly.

What we celebrate today as Rongali Bihu is therefore not a singular tradition but a layered one. At its core lies the memory of the Sutiya and other Sadiya Kachari communities who shaped its earliest forms. Their Bihu was not just a festival. It was a ritual dialogue between humans, land, and the divine feminine forces they believed governed existence.

Understanding this does not divide Bihu. It deepens it.

It reminds us that Assam’s cultural identity was not created in one moment, but built over centuries through kingdoms, migrations, and transformations.

And somewhere in that history, the drums of Sadiya are still echoing.