The river whispered secrets as the ferry cut through the Brahmaputra’s silken expanse, carrying me toward Majuli—a realm I’d only imagined in dreams. After the vibrant experience of Kohima’s Hornbill Festival, I craved the simplicity Majuli promised. This enchanting island, celebrated as the world’s largest inhabited riverine jewel, beckoned with tales of timeless traditions and self-sufficient harmony. As I stepped onto its soil, it felt like crossing into a storybook—where life moved gently, cradled by the embrace of history and nature. Majuli wasn’t just a place; it was a heartbeat, steady and unyielding, in a world spinning too fast.
Arriving in Majuli: A welcome wrapped in tranquility
The journey began with an early taxi ride from Kohima to Dimapur, followed by a train to Jorhat and a ferry from Nimati Ghat across the vast Brahmaputra. The ferry ride was mesmerizing—golden hues danced on the water as the sun dipped below the horizon. By the time I reached Kamalabari Ghat, dusk had draped the island in serenity. The tranquil waters whispered promises of a slower, simpler life, welcoming me into Majuli’s timeless embrace.
Life in Majuli: A gentle flow
In Majuli, time moves like a slow river, unhurried by the chaos of modern life. The bamboo cottages, the handwoven garments, and the lush green fields all create a sense of connection between the people and their surroundings. Despite the seasonal floods that threaten their homes and livelihoods, the people of Majuli live with quiet humility and joy, adjusting their lives to the rhythm of the river.
I rented a cycle—by far the most common way to get around the island—and made my way to the "Sunrise Bridge." It was a lively spot, with locals commuting on foot, by bike, or in auto-rickshaws.
This bridge was more than just a structure; it connected villages, people to their work, schools, and markets. One morning, I watched the sun rise over the bridge, its golden reflection shimmering on the water below. It was a scene so peaceful, it stayed with me long after I left.
After visiting the sunrise bridge at Luhit Ghat, I continued my ride, eager to discover more. It led me to a place I hadn’t planned on—Dambukial N.C. A bamboo bridge stretched across the river, with a few people crossing on their bikes. My curiosity got the better of me, and I pedaled toward it.
When I arrived, I met Navakumar Mili, the builder of the bamboo bridge that connects Lakhimpur village with Garamor village. Lakhimpur, home to around 2,000 people, relies on this 200-meter-long bridge, which Mili and 15 others rebuild each year after the monsoons. Every morning, Mili sweeps the bridge, bathes in the river, and offers his prayers. His dedication to maintaining this vital lifeline spoke volumes about the self-reliant spirit of Majuli’s residents. The bridge, more than just a crossing, stood as a symbol of unity, resilience, and the way the people of Majuli live in harmony with nature.
I returned for the next three mornings, hoping to capture the essence of the scene in my own way. The first two mornings, the rain thwarted my efforts, but on the third day, winter fog enveloped the bridge as people crossed. It was the perfect shot. One of those images went on to win two awards at prestigious competitions. It’s a moment I’ll always cherish.
Discovering Majuli’s cultural heart: The satras
Majuli’s soul is rooted in the Neo-Vaishnavite culture, a legacy that traces back to the saint-scholar Srimanta Sankardeva. The satras, those sacred monasteries, are more than just places of worship. They are the lifeblood of the island, where music, dance, folklore, and ancient arts live on. I spent my days wandering through these peaceful sanctuaries, each with its own quiet charm. The monks and devotees, with their humble, spiritual lives, were eager to share stories of their rich heritage.
The mask-making tradition of Majuli
Majuli’s mask-making tradition is unlike any I’ve seen, weaving together mythology and artistry in a way that feels alive. I had the privilege of visiting Samaguri satra, where Hem Chandra Goswami, a Padma Shri awardee lives. His son welcomed me into their home and showed me the process of mask-making. I was captivated by the careful craftsmanship behind each mask. Made from clay, bamboo, and cloth, these masks bring mythical characters to life in the island’s dramatic performances. This living tradition connects past and present, enriching Majuli’s identity.
Weaving stories of strength: The women of Majuli
The women of Majuli are integral to the island’s community, balancing farming and weaving with remarkable skill. Their handwoven textiles, vibrant with patterns and colors, are more than functional, reflecting the soul of Assamese culture. Watching them work was inspiring, as each piece carried a legacy of artistry and identity.
Majuli's women also contribute to the island's agricultural economy. Farming is an essential part of life here, and the villagers grow their food, maintaining a degree of self-sufficiency that feels rare in today’s world. As I conversed with the women, their stories painted a picture of strength and pride in their traditions.
Looking back: The gift of Majuli
My week in Majuli was more than just a visit—it offered a glimpse into a life deeply connected with nature and tradition. The island’s rich history, with its satras, mask-making, weaving, and self-sustaining farming practice, paints a vivid picture of a community in close communion with the land. Majuli isn’t just a place; it’s an experience—a living reminder that there are still corners of the world where life flows in harmony with nature’s rhythm.
As I left, with the mist still lingering over the mornings and the sound of children’s laughter on bicycles in the distance, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Majuli had given me more than photographs or memories—it had shown me a way of life that remains timeless, a testament to the beauty of simplicity and resilience.
It was time to move on to my next destination: Ziro Valley in Arunachal Pradesh.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are personal and based on my experiences during the visit. They are not intended to represent or generalize the beliefs, traditions, or practices.
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