Monsoon rains stories for reporters in flood-prone Assam. But Dhemaji, the district that usually suffers the most, is often not covered by representatives of mainstream media houses based in Guwahati, about 450 km south-west. Distance has not been an issue, nor has disruption of communication because of roads and railway tracks being washed away. Dhemaji is not in the news simply because covering districts closer to Guwahati, flooded almost at the same time, is more convenient.
Floods have never taken me to Dhemaji, the district as well as its headquarters. Neither did the bombing by the outlawed United Liberation Front of Asom on August 15, 2004, which killed 13 people, including 10 schoolchildren. That day, I was in Imphal, Manipur, to cover the violence that followed the alleged rape and murder of Thangjam Manorama Devi, 32, while in custody a month earlier. The violence ended with the government lifting the Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act from seven Assembly constituencies straddling Imphal.
Since 2006, I have travelled through Dhemaji to either visit Pasighat and other places in central Arunachal Pradesh or occasionally to cover Assembly elections. But for some reason or the other, I had never stopped over at Dhemaji until now — for the first Lok Sabha election coverage in the district in almost 30 years of my career.
I couldn’t meet the candidates of the major parties, as they were canvassing in remote areas of the Lakhimpur Lok Sabha constituency comprising Lakhimpur and Dhemaji districts. But I bumped into a man who was king for three days.
It is believed that Siu-ka-phaa, the founder of the Ahom dynasty, had established his capital at a place called Haboong in the district in 1240. But perennial flood forced the king to shift his capital across the river Brahmaputra. The Brahmaputra isn’t as much of a problem as a number of its tributaries flowing down the hills of Arunachal Pradesh. These include the Jiadhal, Moridhal, Telijan, Kaitongjan, Laipulia, Sissi, Gai, and Tangani. The damage done by these “playful” rivers is believed to have given Dhemaji its name, a corruption of ‘dhal dhemali’, loosely translating into ‘play of flood’.
“I am not that kind of a king, although my coronation happened 32 years after that of my predecessor,” said Manoj Pegu, a tea planter who owns a shopping complex named after Lenin, perhaps as a throwback to Dhemaji’s past as a Communist stronghold.
Mr. Pegu was crowned the king in mid-March during Po:rag, one of the three farming-related festivals of the Mishing community. Po:rag is derived from Apong, the rice wine brewed by the Mishings, and Rag that encompasses merriment, music and dance. Po:rag is fairly regular, the coronation part is not. “Becoming the king and lording over the festival comes at a price. The community invariably chooses a resourceful person as a king because it involves feasting to be paid for,” Mr. Pegu said.
But it was worth it, he said. “I did feel like a king and as per ritual a queen was also chosen for me.” Mr. Pegu, a family man, had an unmarried girl as his queen, who accompanied him to all the rituals. The three days entailed living with the queen in a morung, or community hall, with 11 others, as per tradition. I was Mr. Pegu’s guest for a few hours, but missed being King Pegu’s guest by 20 days.
