In a village not so far away from the land of the marauding tribesmen of the East lived a family whose ethos in preserving the culture and dogmas of their forefathers reigned supreme throughout their lives. They were the only remaining family, and the fifth generation indeed to remain so, to protect and abide by the religion of their ancestors when the world surrounding them had though willfully forsaken it. Their village and the whole populace of the surrounding villages, since four generations past, had entirely gone the ‘Christendom’ way shortly after ‘Vai len’ and the subsequent arrivals of missionaries from the West but without, and strictly except, this orthodox family whose family name (clan) I preferred to conceal.
‘Sakhua’ was what they believed as a religion, and truly their way of life. The family head who I met four years ago while on a deer hunting spree in the three mountains surrounding the village told me to refer him as ‘Bawlpu’ while narrating to me the beauty of one of the smallest religions on Earth, probably the smallest surviving ‘ancient’ religion with only this family still following. He was deeply pained… pained by the way his tribesmen extolled the virtues of the West abandoning the values of their forefathers.
(to be continued.. but not in haste)
#posted in Facebook on 23rd August, 2015.