Wancho women try their hand at fishing at Teesa. A Telegraph picture

Naitong (Tirap), Feb. 10: Rows of dimly-lit huts dotted the riverside, smoke billowed from firesides and the air smelt of smoked fish.

It was an ambience straight out of a cowboy flick. But there were no guns here — only hook, line and sinker.

About 5,000 villagers from 13 villages of Kanubari assembled on the bank of the Teesa, deep in Tirap district of Arunachal Pradesh, last week for a four-day fishing festival of the Wancho tribe.

The “king” of each hamlet presided over the event, revived after a 40-year hiatus.

For the past four decades, the kings were at “war” — not armed battles but differences of opinion — which stood in the way of holding the fishing fest.

Tongam Wangham, 60, can only vaguely remember the day when he was part of the same occasion four decades ago.

A similar festival was held in honour of his father Wangmai Wangham, the former king of Chopnu, which is the collective name for 13 nondescript hamlets under Kanubari circle.

Since then, all villages have had their own kings.

“The festival means more than fishing for us. It means soaking in the glory of our culture, royal customs and bond,” said Wangham.

Sitting cosily in a relatively bigger hut perched atop a hillock overlooking the murmuring river, Wangham surveyed the proceedings.

Every now and then his subjects laid out a meal of roast fish on plates made from banana leaves.

“It is our custom to offer king the first and biggest catch, as the festival is held in his honour,” Rankhu Nokbua, a villager, said.

Not that they have much of a choice — any “deviation” from the custom may cost them their land.

“Last time, the king found one villager guilty of not handing over the biggest catch to him and took away his land,” Nokbua said.

In another candle-lit hut, some 10 metres away, king Tingpong Wangham, 65, tucked into some “sumptuous” fish curry, while his wards continue to hunt for fish.

Armed with nets, the more deft fishermen waded through the stream while others ventured a little deeper in their bamboo boats.

By mid-day, the river bank was teeming with people from 13 hamlets — Naitong, Chopnu, Chopsa, Rusa, Nokphan, Otongkhowa, Lonkhoham, Ranlomzi, Ranglowa, Lawnu, Komnu, Komkuh and Osim — raring for a “catch”.

Five men attired in typical Wancho headgear began singing a number, which to the outsider, looked like a “cheerleading” effort, but turned out to be belt out to be a hymn in the praise of the king.

“Longpho sanu maphanba tinu longho ma phanba apu sula apa sa tam tam loka o..eya tsen to chopbang wangsa polo saya denmadong (We withstood the invasion of the British and stand united at the face of adversary. Dwarf is the enemy king, glorious is our king, who towers over the enemy king and protects us. The festival binds us Wancho brothers … May it continue for ever),” Jangam Nokbua and his party sang.

The women don’t have much of a part to play in this male-dominated festival, so they ensure that the men get their meals piping hot at the end of a hard day’s work.

“For a king like me, this is the probably the last such festival, in which I played a party. This festival, which is all about Wancho culture, custom and royalty, will take place 40 years hence. We Wancho kings may die, but our festival will remain forever,” he said.