The river wild: A tryst with Arunachal's mighty, magnificent Siang

Here be monsters, if you're not wearing your glasses

I wake up in the middle of the night with my bladder bursting. Contact lenses out, blind as a bat. Crawl out of my tent, stick feet into damp sandals, stand up in the semi-circle of tents — and nearly have a heart attack. Barely twenty feet away, in the moonlight, is a dim hulking monster. 

Questions arise. Will society shun one if one goes ahead and pees in one’s tent? How long can one hold it before one’s kidneys explode? How lily-livered does one have to be to consider soiling oneself? I scuttle towards the toilet tent. An enormous shrub springs up in my face and lumbers away; I scream silently and lumber in the opposite direction, before realising that the monsters are mithuns, those gentle mop-headed, white-socked, salt-loving cattle beloved of Arunachal Pradesh’s tribal people. Relief washes over me. A tiny bit of it splashes against my sandals — but that’s camping for you.

I feel I’m being tested, alone in the moonlight above the rushing Siang river. I am also going to be tested in the rushing Siang river the next morning, on the last leg of our three-day rafting expedition from the put-in point at Geku Camp back to Pasighat, organised by Abor Country Travels and Expeditions and the state tourism department. (I have safeguarded my honour by paying my own airfare.) So far the rapids have been spunky and fun, interspersed with long calm stretches, but tomorrow is the huge Pongging rapid, a few metres downstream from camp. I have trauma from a bad spill in the Zanskar river circa 2006, and while the Siang is restoring my confidence, I don’t think it’s amiss to revisit some Arunachal Pradesh memories, just in case.

The Siang river in Arunachal Pradesh

Good thing I am finally in this gorgeous part of the country, with its mighty rivers, thickly forested hills, and silence. Good thing that it takes a plane ride, a car ride, a ferry ride, and more long car rides to get here, which means that you can go a long time without seeing another human being or car. Good thing that the sun slices your eyes open at 4.45 am, so that you have more daylight to wonder why these guys don’t have their own time zone. Good thing I got to walk across one of those amazing hanging bamboo bridges that spans the river, and good thing I didn’t get to be the person who discovers a spot in need of repair. Good thing I’ve eaten and drunk my fill of pork, chicken, weird wilted leafy veggie and rice in Pongging village, washed down with apong (rice beer) served up in glasses made from slashing up bamboo stalks. Good thing I chatted to the villagers, danced with the village women and had some great conversations around our campfire at night. I haven’t made a will yet, but oh well.

In the end it turns out fine, as it usually does. I’m too chicken to take my place in the paddle raft through the roiling Pongging rapid, but I have a shrieking joyride on the gear raft. A bit later I try rowing the gear raft, which is being pulled single-handedly by a man half my size, but six seconds in I realise that he probably eats dragons for breakfast, and go back to soaking in the sun and the spray. 

Back in Pasighat I celebrate with some excellent beef curry at a nearby restaurant. Yay, regionally sensitive BJP manifesto!

Anyway, I’ve returned with stars in my eyes to tell you that Arunachal is wildly beautiful and wildly interesting. One of the reasons is that nobody seems to know about it, so please don’t everybody go there and ruin it. Thank you.

Mitali Saran is a Delhi-based writer mitali.saran@gmail.com