Aita’r Geet: Echoes from the Riverbank

Never imagined that my first boat ride on a small river, gently adorned with blooming Meteka Phool (water hyacinths), at the end of winter, would turn out to be so adventurous and joyful!

This magical journey was inspired by the Enhancing Indic Oral Culture project. Representing the Assamese Wikimedia Community, Bikash and I joined hands as a team to explore and document the rich cultural heritage of Assam’s indigenous communities—specifically the Sonowal Kachari and Mising tribes.

Our boat glided through serene waters, taking us to a place where every stretch of land smelled of mustard flowers, painting the fields like a golden canvas with strokes of green. The road was narrow, and the river was the only passage to reach there. And leading our way, like a loyal guardian, was our beloved Bapukan—Bikash’s pet dog—who made the journey even more memorable with his energy and watchful spirit.

That was our very first site visit, where we met an elderly couple working in their fields, preparing for the season’s harvest. Bikash knew them well, and their warm smiles welcomed us instantly. We spoke with them and shared our heartfelt vision of documenting oral heritage. Their kindness, genuine interest, and the simplicity of that moment made the entire journey deeply memorable and heartwarming for me.

They graciously promised to support our initiative, and as we made our way back along the same narrow path, it felt as though we carried with us the golden pollen of mustard flowers—just like honeybees returning with purpose and hope.

Taking a break from our busy schedules, we somehow managed to embark on our very first day of documentation—an effort close to our hearts. With our bags packed with essentials—camera, tripod, microphone—we set off, collecting the fragrance of mustard blossoms along the way, from Bikash’s Afughat to a place that felt like nature’s own canvas.

It was our beloved Aita (Grandmother), Lilimai Sonowal, who made it all possible. Her warm smile welcomed us into her world. We successfully recorded three soulful folk songs, each carrying the weight of generations. Among the songs she sang, two stood out as lyrical riddles—Folk Bihu songs, traditionally associated with the vibrant festival of Bihu. Though deeply rooted in celebration, these songs are not limited to seasonal festivities; they are often sung year-round, bringing joy, comfort, and companionship in quiet moments or shared gatherings. Another was a Tuloni Biya Geet—a special song performed during the Tuloni Biya ceremony, which marks a girl’s first menstruation in Assamese culture. These songs, rich in tradition and emotion, are closely tied to womanhood and are traditionally sung by women, echoing the strength, dignity, and heritage of Assamese society.

Aita treated us to tea and homemade snacks, and we gathered fresh vegetables from her field. We clicked pictures, shared laughter, and most importantly—we talked. We talked about how these oral traditions are slowly fading, how difficult it is for villagers to open up in front of a camera, to express the roots they carry with silent pride. For people whose lives revolve around the rhythm of fields and seasons, such initiatives feel distant—almost unimaginable.

As the day came to a close, it was time for me to return. The path home was long, but my heart was full. The boat waited patiently, and the river stretched out its wide arms, ready to carry me across. With the golden light of dusk on the water and the scent of mustard still clinging to the air, I whispered a quiet goodbye to that little heaven—knowing I’d left a piece of my soul behind.