The Mishing Festival

How wrong could I have been about last night? If you remember I was due to visit a Mishing festival and was convinced it’d all be over once I got there. Jyto came to pick me just after 8pm, assuring me that there were “thousands of people” there already. Now two things I can’t do with are crowds and late nights, so all was not boding well. A night owl, I am most certanly not. We drove towards the festival site where I had been earlier and sure enough there were plenty of folk milling about. But the stage area was deserted. As we sped on past, I began to wonder just where were we parking. The lights from the festival faded and still we drove on into the night.

Old fears come to haunt pretty quick when you are travelling alone. Let’s be fair, I’m easy prey to a couple of blokes who fancy “doing me over” and stealing not only my money but also my identity. So with senses becoming more highly atuned, I pluck up courage to ask where we’re going. Jyoti assures me we are going to the Mishing village to see “a drummer” and to ask what time it all starts. A couple of minutes later and a village hall affair came into view and it seemed to be a hive of activity. Peeking through an open window we see various children being painted in theatrical make-up and once I’m spotted, I’m the star attraction.

Non-Mishing are not allowed into the main arena, so it’s a great honour to be invited in. Once I’ve removed my shoes I’m ushered into the make-up room and encouraged to watch the proceedings. A very nice Mishing lady takes charges, fielding questions about me from men, women and children alike. I’m then presented with a present of rice flower and molasses. I know from experience they taste minging but how very kind of them to share their food with me. After twenty minutes or so, a gentleman come into the room, took my arm and directed me into the main performance arena and I’m asked to sit in prime position. Oh no, they’re making me the star guest for the night! I sit cross legged and chat to the gentleman who turns out to be an economics professor from some university or other. With my backside becoming increasingly numb, I’m still sat there fifteen minutes later. I’d love to stand up at this poing but I’m convinced that it would be seen as a major snub to the attending populace that this white man, invited int their When I’m assured the performance will begin a further twenty minutes later, at around 10pm, I seriously begin to worry for the state of my back.

Eventually, the performance gets under way at 10.20pm, with me in serious pain in my lumbar region. No matter, the acting bythe kids is superb, with only one small lad forgetting his lines briefly. It’s a performance from the Rumanayah. I like this idea of keeping the kids in touch with their heritage and the kids seem to enjoy the dressing up and acting if nothing else. Bless my guide and his driver. They come looking for me when my back could seriously hold out no longer. “Am I ok?” he inquires, I thankfully take this as an opportunity to gush my apologies for not being able to stay any longer and make my escape. The time is almost 11pm and I’m dying of a bad back and tiredness. I’m told later that the performance normally goes on to around 1am or maybe later. I’d never have walked again if I’d have stayed. Into bed as soon as possible when I got back and no matter how lumpy that bed is, it’ll be a blessed relief from sitting on that floor.