Rolling Drums And Tapping Feet A Day At The Hornbill Festival

When it comes to festivals, Nagaland must be the dada of all states. Each of the 16 Naga tribes has its generous quota, when entire villages get out of their jeans and Ts for a round of traditional feasting and dancing. And then there is the grand-daddy of them all, the Hornbill Festival, when all the tribes get together for an annual event held in Kisama village, 16km from capital Kohima. Officially, it was meant to be a kind of cultural hot-pot, a fake show to draw in tourists from the mainland and abroad. But the Nagas, thank heavens, don&rsquot know the distinction between fake festivals and the real ones &mdash with the drums rolling and feet tapping as each tribal troupe vies with the others to put up a memorable show

There are tourists, of course, but the locals easily outnumber them in a celebration that lasts a week from December 1-7 every year. In fact, Hornbill has become such a big thing locally that more and more events are trying to piggy-back on the tourist festival. This year, for instance, there was a beauty-cum-fashion show, a coffee festival, an opening of a heritage home as a museum-cum-restaurant and that unheard-of thing a rock festival that brought bands from all over India.

There may not have been that many takers for the exquisite handicrafts displayed at Hornbill, but doing brisk business at the festival were the food stalls that sprung up all over the heritage village venue. The concept was very DilliHaat, in the sense that each of the 16 tribes had their cluster of shops selling the distinctive home-cooked snacks and meals of that tribe. For the young, cosmopolitan Naga, however, this was a great chance to sample food from every tribe. Watching jean-clad pairs of teenagers sipping rice beer from bamboo mugs, and dipping into the twin bowl of pickled meat, as easily and comfortably as if it was Coke and chips, you begin to understand the Naga way of life within that ultramodern jacket and gelled hairstyle beats a very traditional tribal heart and head.

For a mainlander who likes her meat to be what can be bought at a Delhi butcher&rsquos and is tone-deaf, to boot, these extreme adventures of the palate and ear were sometimes a little beyond me. But then, there&rsquos the pleasure of moonlit nights, with Kohima town glittering in the distance like a Christmas tree, and the strains of a new kind of tribal music echoing in the hills.