When life was basic but beautiful in Pongchau

In 1995, I was posted in Pongchau, based on a hill top at the tri-junction of Arunachal Pradesh, Assam and Nagaland. I lived there alone at a remote Border Roads detachment. The nearest civilian or military outpost was at least 5 km away. Amid breath-taking views of lush-green hills and gurgling streams, life was quite basic but beautiful, surrounded by a few troops and labourers constructing a bridge in the valley below.

The nearby tribal settlement was ruled by a Wancho chieftain, skilled in hunting and tribal warfare — his bare chest tattooed with lines denoting his kills. The town had only a handful of outsiders — the SSB and Army personnel with whom we could at least converse in our language.

Locals survived on rice and wild game, while we relied on weekly rations. By the time vegetables reached us, they were spoiled, but we even used the peels to make meals. TV viewing was by connecting it to the battery of our truck using an old antenna.

The weather was quite cold most of the time, with heavy winds. The passing troops would halt there for tea and we would get some news. The chieftain sometimes brought us wild rooster and firewood, and we would return the favour with rum. These tribesmen were good people but still decades away from civilisation. Women carried water in bamboo shoots on their backs while men hunted with the dah, a multipurpose tool that everyone carried. The local laws were observed strictly and the was crime almost non-existent. It was a pleasure living at such a virgin and beautiful place.

RS Narula, Patiala