Phrozü li : The Lamentations of women

The last two weeks haven't been the most fruitful of weeks for us sisters.
First, Azi comes down with the flu, followed by Lulu and next is Mercy with an allergic rash which is still driving her nuts. Kuvelü is the last man(sic) standing.
So everything is going real slow at the moment and we are tackling two of the most epic folksongs of all times to boot. So you can only imagine our state.

The good news: We finally finished recording one. "Phrozü li". It is a beautiful song and we hope you will love it when it gets released.
The bad news: We started the other song last night and it was such a disaster we had to stop.

Let's focus on the good news here and talk about the song we completed. Shall we?
Well, the song is not a happy one after all it is called the "Lamentations of a woman" and rest assured, it will give you some thoughts to ponder on for a while atleast.
When we first heard the song, the poignancy struck us so deep we knew we had to record this one ASAP. But were we upto the challenge?  It wasn't an easy deal. Four tricky harmonies and all the sustaining resulted in crazy rehearsals and we weren't in the best of physical conditions so we were all almost weeping with relief once it was done. We are really proud of it though.

Now, about the song:
This is a song usually sung by a big group of women, young and old as they spin yarns of threads out of cotton in the traditional style. Some will spin threads out of cotton, others will roll them into balls of yarn while still others dye them and dry them in the sun. Some will then weave them into myriad and beautiful weaves, body clothes and shawls. It is a collaborative project. Young girls, learning by watching and older women sharing their knowledge and tricks while the maidens showoff their skills. The song they sing is soulful and melodic; the lyrics speaking volumes using few words.

The lamentations of a woman are many.
In our silence rings volumes of uneasy truth.
We toil in unseen ways and our aches unspoken.
The fruits of our labors enjoyed.
Gratitude seldom comes our way.
While complaints unceasingly flow loud.
Perhaps we made a vow to weep in silence,
While drying others' tears all around.
A sister, a daughter, a mother in deed,
But none to call on when in need.

Citizens of nowhere and propertyless.
We belong to the one who keeps us.
We earn nothing and keep even less.
We are always prepared for change and eventualities.
No questions asked.
Youth is a scourge and aging, a curse.
Beauty is fleeting and kindness taken for granted.
But our chores multiply day by day.

This season, a decked up bride,
Next season, a sagging beast of burden.
While our husbands' youth renew,
Our wrinkles increase in count.
Who has time to listen to our tales of woe?
Who will hold our hands through the darkness?
Who will wipe the sweat off our brows?

Oh! many are the lamentations of a woman.
But we do best to smile and bear it.
For tomorrow is a day just like today,
But we make do and help the others get through.
And we gather together and make light of our pains,
In songs, we weave a happy present.

Like the patterns we discreetly draw,
Into the clothes you adorn yourself with.
Our invisible stories, our dreams and yearnings.
Happy patterns, bold ones, colorful ones.
Resigned, we soar and live in you.
This, our destiny.

Content copyright Tetseos ©All rights reserved. Do not use any images/content without prior permission.

Mürinulü Lizo: The orphan's lullaby

Mürinulü Lizo is a lullaby sung by an aunt for her little orphan nephew.

Below is a translation of the song originally written in Chokri dialect of Nagaland.

Forgive me child

I bear sad news

Oh you are all alone in this world

Dream my child but you have been left behind

The ones you love have gone before you

All you have is this lonely life

But you will grow yet to see this big world

And you shall envy others

For you are without life's greatest gifts

Your mother and father

You will miss the kisses of your mother

The strength of your father

I will sing for you if you wish so

And I will pray for you 

I wish my words are comfort enough

Let not death come near

The best things and gifts in life,

All that is left of your loved and dear ones.

Content copyright Tetseos ©All rights reserved. Do not use any images/content without prior permission.

The tales in our Li : She cho mo me?

There once lived a beautiful girl, Kuvelü in a far off Naga Village.

She lost her mother at a young age and lived with her father. A long time after her mother’s death, her father married a young lady hoping she would be a mother to her but her stepmother was vain and evil. She was jealous of Kuvelü’s beauty and grace and was envious of the majestic "tida"(a large necklace, worn by both men and women, denoting status and wealth) she had inherited from her dead mother.

Everyday, Kuvelü would rise before daybreak and make the fire, sweep the house clean, feed the chickens and cook their meals with a song on her lips and then go off to work in the fields. But inspite of all her efforts and industrious ways, Kuvelü could not do anything right in her new mother’s eyes and this saddened her greatly for she missed a motherly presence in her life. Her father was a gentle soul and could only sigh and hope.

As was the way of her people, the young Kuvelü would go to the forest daily with a group of friends to gather wood and fetch water.  One day, Kuvelü and her friends went deep into the forest to fetch firewood and ended up at a mysterious lake. Having had a tiring time, they set down their baskets, took off their jewellery and started frolicking in the water. And while the girls bathed and enjoyed the cool waters, the Spirit of the lake fell in love with the beautiful Kuvelü and stole her prized possession, her tida.

As dusk was fast approaching and they were a long way from home, they reluctantly made hurried preparations to return back. To her great distress and horror, Kuvelü could not find her tida where she had left it. She beseeched her friends not to tease her and hand over her necklace if they had hidden it. But turns out her friends did not have it and they joined her in her search but to no avail. Her necklace was gone. The young girls returned home mystified while Kuvelü was in tears for she had lost all that was left of her dead mother.

On returning home, she mournfully related the day’s events to her stepmother and father. While her father said it must be the work of the lake spirit and not to worry for it was just a necklace after all; the cruel stepmother accused her of lying and said, “ You sly young lady, you must have given it away to your admirers or some secret lover!” Kuvelü refuted the accusations and pleaded innocent but her stepmother was not moved. She teased her mercilessly. So the young girl finally took it to heart and made an oath to prove her innocence. She swore on the names of the spirits of her ancestors and upon their honor that she spoke the truth and if she was lying, may all her efforts be unfruitful and barren for life.

The next day as dawn broke, she rushed to the lake and stood at the spot she last saw her tida. She took off her cloth belt and threw it upon a great rock which stood at the mouth of the lake and shouted aloud, “Spirit of the lake, I challenge you to reveal yourself to me, you who stole my necklace! Pray return it to me so I can prove my innocence. You who has great power, show me your magnanimity and give me back my necklace and you can have my soul in return”. The moment she uttered these words, her necklace was flung back into her hands and the spirit of the lake rose from his abode in the form of a handsome young man. “There you are, you shall be my bride! Come with me”.

Alas! The deal was made and the price had to be paid.

Kuvelü had a wish to return to her village and bid her father goodbye before she would be gone to the spirit world so the god took her back to her village in a mist. She came upon her stepmother and handed her the necklace saying, “Oh mother, here you are. I am peace at last and so should you be. Of what good is this necklace to me if it causes a rift between us mother and daughter. Oh what sorrow that we couldn’t be friends! Alas I am gone”. The stepmother could only stare, mouth agape as the beautiful Kuvelü was swept  away in a swirling mist by a very handsome god.

She then appeared to her beloved father who was busy cutting wood in the yard, “My poor father,  your unfortunate daughter has paid the price for letting her desire of a mother’s approval win over a father’s love. What sorrow that I shall not be with you no more, Father, take care of yourself for me and I shall find comfort in your wellbeing.” Saying this, she was borne away by her spirit husband to his world, never to be seen again.

Photography by Tetseos. Content copyright Tetseos ©All rights reserved. Do not use any images/content without prior permission.

Zutsa Müzatilü's Death Wish : A dark folktale of the Chakhesangs

 Zutsa Müzatilü was an old grey woman nearing a good century of hard living. Her crinkly face was going a shade of leathery brown with splotches of mouldy blue from the many years in the cruel mountain sun and the harsh winter winds that blew this side of the Naga hills. 
She sat perched on the weathered seat, fashioned out of a heap of rocks in her frontyard overlooking the village, sipping her Hezo (rice beer) from a huge Kürahe (bamboo mug). People were at work in the fields, little children too young to work were being babysat by some sickly neighbour who hadn’t gone to the field or some old lady like herself too old to work in the fields. The village was deserted except for the fowls, pigs and dogs that strolled about with gay abandon.

The old lady had seen a lot in life, having borne eight children to a husband who didn’t have much. And now her husband had been gone for nearly three decades. Her children had married and borne children and she was greatgrandmother to twenty or thirty unruly children of all ages and sizes. Now she was almost blind in one eye and the other had been of no use for how long she couldn’t remember, perhaps for the last five or six years.

Life was no longer worth living now that she was too old to do anything. Living wearied her no end. Forget about preparing a meal for herself, eating was in itself, a major task. Thankfully, one of her granddaughters, Nyine had taken it upon herself to look after her. Her only pleasure these days was sipping the excellent Hezo she no longer brewed herself but was gifted by her many well wishers. 

Her days were spent sitting in the warm sun with the children of the village and watching the village come to life every evening. People would stream in through the village gates, tired but still full of purpose. Smoke would rise from the tall chimneys nestled in the thatch and her nostrils would be filled with the aroma of meat and vegetables stewing- things she no longer enjoyed, but whose memory she savoured. Music and laughter and happy banter would fill the air and then the silence of blissful rest after a hard day’s work. 

It was a lonely life for her now. Too old to do the things she had always done. Her arthritis would only get worse as winter was about to set in. She hadn’t been able to step outside the village gates since many springs ago when everyone participated in the annual cleansing rituals of Sükrünye*. She had barely kept up with the rest even then. Most of her friends and peers were long gone. Now it was time for her to let go and move on too. She was already a burden on her family though they were too kind to mention it.  She was embarrassed no end by the charity of her fellow villagers. As her seniority ensured that everyone brought gifts of all kinds for her every now and then.

Sitting in front of the fire one evening, she spoke out loud in a clear voice. “Chepothüru*(Spirit Lord)…come and take me away. I’m tired and done with this life.” Nyine was mortified. “Zutsa (Grandma), you shouldn’t make a death wish. What if it comes true?” 
Zutsa Muzatilu chuckled “A wish is a wish. Young one, you wouldn’t understand what it’s like to be living this way.” She bent to put out the fire and this simple task left her out of breath. Nyine looked at her kindly. Slowly she made her way to the cold pekhü (a massive raised board where rice is pounded) which was her bed.

Morning came. Nyine had already started the fire and something was boiling in a pot over the fire. “Zutsa, I’m going down all the way to the Khudarü fields (a distant part of the fields requiring at least 5 hours walking to & fro) with my Lemi (work group) today. Better eat properly. I might be a little late. Come inside earlier as it’s getting colder.” Off she went with her friends.

The sun was already high in the sky when Zutsa Muzatilu came out and took her usual place in the sun, sipping her Hezo. And then she spoke out loud in a clear voice. “Chepothüru…come and take me away. I’m tired and done with this life. Today is as good as any other day for you to pay me a visit.” Silence. And then she started weeping.

A group of little girls and boys were playing in their neighbour’s yard, facing Zutsa Muzatilu’s house when they saw a strange sight. Three giant fowls were pecking away at Zutsa while she was screaming helplessly and trying to ward them off. The children were frightened and ran away to find someone who could help.

In the evening when the villagers returned from the fields, all they could find was a few specks of blood and Zutsa’s beads scattered all over her courtyard but no sign of the old lady.

Nyine shook her head sadly saying, “They took her away. It was what she wanted.” The elders gathered the frightened children and took them home chanting prayers of protection.

Content copyright Tetseos ©All rights reserved. Do not use any images/content without prior permission.

One day at a time : Tsakhatiyo, zhole rüle tiyomo

"Tsakha tiyo, Zhole rüle tiyo mo" is the title of a Li we sing.

Our forefathers in their infinite wisdom have coined the phrase which can be translated loosely as "As you sow so shall you reap". "Tsa = seed"; "kha = to give/sow"; " zhole = leisure"; "rüle = lethargic and lazy"; "tiyo mo = unfed/won't bring food" thus the phrase means "Leisure does not bear fruit but tilling the soil and sowing the seed will keep you full". And so they lived their lives, industrious, routine and yet happy.

Off to the fields.....a long walk ahead.

Our ancestors understood the subtle and volatile characteristics of nature and could interpret and make forecasts by reading the signs available to them in their immediate surroundings. The birdcalls, animal movements, wind and rain......were all messengers.

Getting down to business....a fire is lit.

Most of the Li sung while working have short stories with a moral lesson to be shared. Li while providing a natural rythmn for the motion of work is also a means of passing on life's lessons.
Li talks about the importance of timely work and brings in elements of nature as examples.

The cricket sings "mütsü tsü! mütsü tsü! (lazy lazy lazy lazy)" while the ant works hard in summer and store food for the winters. The summer bird mocks the crickets singing "Khüsatato! Khüsatato! (you will starve to death!)" and finally makes a meal out of the cricket. While the other lazy crickets actually starve to death come winter.

Where do we start?

Our ancestors lead simple rudimentary lives and it was hard work most days but they also derived every pleasure out of it. Young people learned early on the dignity of labour. A sense of cooperation and community work pervaded. Young people in Morungs (Ce thi ce) formed work groups (Müle/Peli) and worked in each other's fields in turns. Daily chores of collecting wood and fetching water from the jungle, the main duty of morung dwellers, was thus a fun event with friends, laughter and songs and life was good.

Some work and some play.

Lunch was usually a brief outdoor event. Breakfast was proper morning affair in the wee hours even before daybreak. Friends and workgroups gathered and were off to work in the fields as the cock crowed. Wages were usually in measures of grain/corn/meat -a generous mound of grain in a specific basket called 'Jhorha' (equivalent to a kilo)'. A day's work would earn a person four Jhorhas. A couple would earn eight Jhorhas, equal to a 'Sürhakho (a closewoven basket)' and  A lunch of rice, dried meat curry and vegetable stew was usually provided by the employer, cooked in the working shed out in the fields. A less wealthy employer would provide a lunch of rice and vegetables.

The way it is done.

The agricultural season can be roughly divided into different phases and stages. The first phase is sowing and has four stages. First comes the "Khuho tü" which involves clearing the old fields, burning the cast out twigs/plants and tiling the soil. This happens from November to Febraury each year.

Sign of times: Nature's alarm clock.

"Tsakha tü" is the period of sowing seeds in a special germination area in the fields. This happens around March-April. Elders say our forefathers depended on the arrival of certain birds especially the "cuckoo bird" to signal the time to sow.

Bringing in water from the streams to the rice fields.

Once the seeds germinate, it is time to transplant the young rice plants into the rice fields. This is done after embanking the fields with earth and churning the rice fields with water; the process is called "Tükhu künu". In the mean time, people also weed their vegetable gardens and add manure to cornfields and support structures built for growing bean/squash/cucumber and pumpkin plants to ensure a good harvest. Haste is made to finish all the transplanting work before the summer solstice in June.

Taking a break.

The end of the planting season culminates in the summer festival of "Khuthonye" in July. This is a time of thanksgiving for successful completion of rice plantation and a time to appease the spirits of fertility and prosperity asking them to provide a bountiful harvest. It is a time of feasting and merrymaking to regain one's energy after all the hard work. Time for celebration before the next stage of work sets in.

They do find time to pamper themselves.

Catching 'em fishes and snails.

Beef, Pork and Chicken are the season's flavour and the fortunate hunters bring in their wild catch and add exotic flavours to the festivities. It is also time for crabs and escargot (snails) to make an appearance on the farmers' menu. Nagas, young and old alike enjoy the variety of fishes and edible snails which flourish in the rice fields and young people spend happy times fishing and gathering snails.

There is always something to laugh about.

With the rains, the edible variety of ferns and plants flourish. People gather them and cook them with rice to make a Naga delicacy called "Galho". Galho is a mixture of greens, rice and sometimes meat, seasoned with salt, chilli and fermented soyabean sauce (axone) and accompanied by chutney of hot naga king chilli. This makes for a seasonal but delicious filling lunch.

The little ones tag along too.

After a hard day's work.

Homewards we head

After a day of hard work in the fields, people head home with their baskets filled with the available seasonal greens, fruits, the catch of the day and perhaps planning the night's meal while singing out to friends to finish their work fast and join them on their way home.
Happy, fulfilled and with a song on their lips.
Living life, one day at a time.

Content copyright Tetseos ©All rights reserved, Photography by Tetseos. Do not use any images without prior permission.

Mystery Unsolved: Dzüdü Lake

Dzüdü Lake is situated about 3 kilometers away from Thüvopisü Village of Nagaland's Phek district and requires an hour of uphill trekking along the river that flows down from it. It also feeds the Thüvopisü microhydel project and is the main source of water supply for five villages in its vicinity. The word "Dzüdü" literally means "Water reservoir" or  "Dammed water". It is a natural lake serenely nestled up in the hills, surrounded by moss covered trees and has long been associated with many myths and legends.

Taking the first steps upwards.

One foggy August morning, we sisters headed out to our native village to see the lake and get some photographs out there. Turns out we paid this season's first visit to Dzüdü lake.

Mother kept us company and the rain too.

Acccompanied by ten young men from our village who cleared the path as we made the climb, it took us a good hour to get there. The forest had reclaimed its territory throughout the summer and the foliage was thick and almost unpenetrable with clusters of nettles and ferns. The path was slippery and the wet earth did not make it the easiest of treks. We startled a couple of snakes and leeches and so you can imagine the few ear splitting screams and screeches that ensued. We also came upon footprints of deer at their drinking spot (pointed out to us by our guides). Seems like they heard us coming and took off. We tasted the water from the spring and found it slightly salty.

Thick foilage along the way.

Abandoned tree house.

There are many versions of stories about the lake but the village elders say that it was first discovered by a villager on a deer hunt. After trailing a deer for about a week, he finally spotted the deer drinking at a spring and resumed the chase. The deer is said to have led him to the lake, then to his amazement, jumped right into the middle of the lake and rebounded to the other side without breaking the surface of the water. The poor hunter lost his speech for days but eventually recovered to recount his tale and led the entire village to his discovery.

Human like formation of moss on tree.

They say that the lake is the abode of a gigantic serpent who does not like to be disturbed. Every seven years, all kinds of snakes and serpents from near and far make the uphill pilgrimage to the lake to pay homage to the serpent. In the course of their journey, they are known to destroy rice fields and cause flooding of rivers from the splashes they cause.

Another interesting thing is that so far, the depth of the lake has not been ascertained. Circumstances have not allowed the measurement of the lake's dimensions. It is forbidden to tread into the water as it is considered sacrilege. People who have tried to swim or take bath in the lake have been haunted and troubled by what seems to be the guardian spirits of the lake. People have tried previously but failed and so it remains open to debate and speculation.

Wiping off the sweat and the rain

Not one fallen leaf can be seen floating on the surface of the lake. Nothing stays on the surface of the lake. Everything supposedly sinks to the bottom of the lake, including boats and other floatation devices. Attempts to introduce boating facilities were hence discarded and I firmly hope it stays that way.

Make shift green room

Outside elder mom's house at Thüvopisü Village.

After the arduous trek (our spirits refusing to be dampened by the slick rain), we made it to the lake.  Thankfully, the rain stopped when we reached and held off until the photo shoot was over. At first we could not see the lake at all because of the massive growth of foliage and a good half hour was spent clearing the area. Having snacked on sticky rice cakes and some few cups of tea, we got down to business. Two hours later, the photographer of the day, Rokovor Vihienuo had taken enough photographs for our requirement and as it was getting dark, we started the descent back to the village.

In discussion with Photographer Rokovor Vihienuo.

Locals warn visitors not to offend the spirit of the lake by keeping the surroundings clean and not  to violate the serenity of the lake by polluting it or disturbing the stillness of the waters. Violators have been known to suffer much unrest. How far this is true one cannot know for sure for I am not ready to do anything foolish and face the consequences. So we toed the line and all went well.

The plain truth is that the lake looks like a surreal picture, dark but clear water surrounded by tall moss covered trees which block out the sky: there is such calmness and silence except for the occasional bird and fluttering of leaves that one is sure to be bewitched. There is also an uneasy feeling of being watched by unseen eyes and a sense of loneliness even when with a large group. Even the bravest of men have refused to spend the night camped out at the lake.

The crew.

The feeling of reverence and being humbled are however natural in the face of such incredible beauty. One cannot help but feel the presence of a higher spirit who designs everything with meticulous detail for our enjoyment and perhaps for us to know and acknowledge His presence.

What lies beneath.....the still waters of Dzüdü.

Myth or no myth, Dzüdü lake is one place worth visiting once in life at least.
For more information on visiting Dzüdü, you can write to us: tetseosisters@gmail.com
©All rights reserved, Photography by Tetseos. Please do not share, post or use any images without prior permission.

All in a day's work

One cannot help but marvel at the creativity and aesthetic sense of our forefathers. Just take a look at the complex bead patterns in our jewelry, our crafts, the beautiful motifs on our traditional shawls/body clothes, and the exquisite poetry of our Li.
Music, Dance and festivities were an integral part of the life fabric and they all served a deeper purpose- that of creating bonds and helping to maintain order and discipline.

Getting into the culture of Li and being associated with folk music for a long time has made us sisters so much more appreciative of our roots and the things that make us who we are as a people today.
We grew up listening to tales of our grandparents' struggles during the Wars that ravaged and transformed our worlds, how the coming of Christianity changed lives and perspectives and how in a stretch of two decades, life was never to be the same for any Naga.

Grandma would regale us with tales of her youth and the adventures she embarked on. In between narratives came folktales and folksongs. Mother would add her bit and there would be lots of laughter and ohs and ahs and even tears as we soaked up the stories with rapt attention; while in our heads, our imagination went haywire conjuring wild and vibrant images. A beautiful memory etched in time is spending Christmas in the village with Grandma and sipping sweet rice beer from her tall bamboo mug when mother was not looking.

Life was definitely simpler but the daily hassles were equal I am sure, if not more. They however reveled in the simple joys of life and were completely in tune with nature and undoubtedly happier for it. They also enjoyed a strong sense of community and familial ties were strong. They had music in their bones and heart. Music even ran in their bloodstreams one could say.

Life in olden times was dictated by nature and living habits were based on the agricultural cycle and Li was the common thread that ran through everything and tied them all together. Back then, every body sang Li and there was not a time which wasn't appropriate for Li. It was a mode of self-expression as much as it was a bonding exercise. Li is omnipresent in all situations and places. It is the one thing that pervades class, gender, age and renders all equal. Li has been and continues to be a community activity, much like the church singing or praise and worship we do today.

Let's just say Li is the life force that binds. There are so many types of Li. It is hard to classify Li into specific types but in broad terms, they can be thematically organized. There is classical Li (Kü pra ti Li-solos/duets/trio), Tati Li (Li accompanied by Tati, the traditional one stringed instrument), Group Li (sung ad lib), Pheta/Mülophe Li (Li to accompany dancing and foot work) and Chants (involving the entire village). Li can also be thematically organized.
There are Li for all seasons (every season has a corresponding Li) and occasions - deaths, births, sacred rituals, festivals (every festival has specific Li), work themed Li (different Li for different tasks), romantic love songs, tragedies, war themes, wedding themes, special occasions call for special Li, odes, songs of praises to spirits and nature and in the christian era, gospel folk praising the creator.

The sheer variety of Li is mind boggling and there is no doubt a good number of Lis have been lost through the passage of time. Hopefully, we can preserve the few we still have. Our Naga tradition of orally passing down our culture from generation to generation is unique but has its own demerits. And the adoption of Christianity and subsequent westernization also played a significant role in almost wiping out the tradition of folk singing and dancing. But old habits die hard and with traditional festivals giving way to celebration of Jubilees and other events, a recent surge of cultural revivalism erupted. And with the blessing of the Church the enthusiasm of young people broke through and we are adapting the unique practices and music of our forefathers to our times and new beliefs. What was once sung to appease spirits are now sung in praise of the Holiest of Spirits.

We Nagas are a lucky lot. We have been so blessed with bountiful nature, beautiful people and a vibrant and rich cultural heritage; it is only right that we use our talents and blessings to enrich the lives of our people and inspire those around us. It is heartening to see many young talented Nagas trying to strike out new pathways in music and creative arts. And with the world getting smaller day by day, we only stand to gain much.

All in a day's work!

We should never forget where we come from but we should never let the circumstances of our origins hold us back from greater and higher things. And as the age old adage goes, only the fittest will survive so, let us gear up and be the fittest.

©All rights reserved, Photography by Tetseos. Please do not share, post or use any images without prior permission.