For over a decade now, Manipur has been in the news for human rights violations, geographical restrictions, and political unrest. Now that Irom Sharmila has ended her 16-year old fast after a historic Supreme Court judgment that questioned the immunity enjoyed by the security forces under the Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act of 1958 (AFSPA), film-maker and photographer Byron Aihara’s aim in his book, Dance, Music and Ritual in Manipur, acquires a new relevance.
In the preface, Aihara admits to not being a professional photographer or researcher. He’d rather be known as a guest, an “outsider” of Asian descent interested in the ethnography and folk traditions of Manipur, knowing well that there is no better time than now to look beyond the region’s conflict, and deeper into its rituals and indigenous identity.
The 235-page book is not a light read, even for what largely seems like a photo book. While it is amply clear that Aihara’s journey to Manipur and his study of the region’s rituals and performance culture is the crux of this book, the only setback in terms of vision is a question mark over what it really aims to be. It isn’t entirely a modern photo book, since the text is as heavy and descriptive, sometimes even taking the reader far from the visuals.
Even the design is simple and novice-like, especially in the sections that neatly divide the book into chapters discussing Manipur’s history and traditions at length. There is much work to be done (perhaps in a later edition) in terms of choosing the right font, font size, layout and condensing the written text, but what is endearing about the book is Aihara’s honest and heartfelt narrative.
For anyone interested in Manipur beyond its conflict, the book is a charmer. Fairly old school in its handbook-like demeanour, the book begins by discussing the ambiguity of Manipur’s first settlers, going on to the Umang Lai, the sylvan deities who’re part of Manipur’s natural geography.
Then it journeys to the Lai Haraoba – the region’s complex festival, staged on an epic scale. Largely unknown to most of India, the Manipuri Ras Lila was originally created in the royal court of Manipur in the sixteenth century, and its dance movements, gestures and costumes draw directly from the ancient folk dances of the Lai Haraoba. Aihara dedicates an entire section to the Ras Lila in his book, highlighting, by way of descriptive photographs, the distinct differences in Manipur’s classical dance tradition and the raw traditions of the Lai Haraoba – both eventually merging in the Ras performances.
Manipur’s stunning textiles are the real eye-stoppers in this section, especially the intricate work on Potloi Kumin, the circular skirt reserved for wearing only by the characters of Radha and Chandrabali in the Ras Lila and the symbolism of mountain peaks on the headpieces of the performers.
There’s an angelic portrait of two little girls looking straight into Aihara’s lens, wrapped in elegant attire, one wearing the Kajenglei, headgear worn by both Krishna and the Gopis alike in the Ras Lila. This fluidity of gender-role interpretation is what defines Manipur’s folk traditions and Aihara’s photographs only add to the intrigue.
The defining section of the book is the one on Lai Haraoba – its seminal dance traditions ranging from those reenacting cosmic creation and incarnations to simple stories of courtship and procreation. Aihara illustrates the criticality of community participation in order for the festival to succeed in creating cultural awareness. Having attended ten Lai Haraoba festivals during his 16-month stay in Manipur, he impresses upon the need to focus on the complexities of rituals through his photographs.
Coupled with scenes of picturesque landscapes, Aihara leads the reader into the heart of traditional practices as he journeys from Moirang – the site of the largest Lai Haraoba festival – to other villages. While the book could have definitely done with a more compact edit of photographs, the visual detailing of rituals and characters lift the weight off the heavy text, especially in this section.
A great and relevant revelation is the story of resisting migration, especially by the Meiti and Chakpa communities, who are believed to be the first major settlers of Manipur. Even in the Lai Haraoba narratives of creation, the idea of migration is absent and the core dances depict the permanence of building houses, cultivation techniques and weaving. Aihara’s landscapes flow into this idea beautifully as the narrative moves outdoors, offering a tangible sense of Manipur’s lush, green valleys.
From the mysterious tradition of unexpected trance-like possessions of the Amaibi (photographed casually and wonderfully) to Maibi women who hold the highest spiritual rank in the community, Manipur’s gender-bending rituals never fail to surprise. The communities are very liberal in their depiction of desire and fertility, stressing on their importance in a healthy society.
In the final section of the book, Aihara brings to the fore life and ritual in contemporary Manipur, sharing small experiences that denote people’s affinity to tradition, whether they actively participate in festivals or not. One such endearing story is that of unannounced messengers delivering ceremonial invites by pinning them on the wall or hanging them on a wire, stacks growing up to two inches thick with 100 or more paper invites. Each invite is meant to be read and this is the beauty of the ritual, as small as it may seem.
Photographs and stories of harvesting, women as equal labourers and couples deciding to officially elope – thus proving their seriousness of intent – are heartwarming and a window into a region that we as part of the same country know nearly nothing about. Aihara might see himself as an outsider, but his work offers some valuable insider insights that he can revel in for now.
Dance, Music and Ritual in Manipur, Photographs and Text by Byron Aihara, Vajra Books.
