Keramat brought out a murha, a low stool made of woven cane. He squatted on the earth beside me. Firdouz, a cheerful young man with a ready smile, went off to talk to other villagers.

And this is Keramat’s story, much of it in his own words.

‘We used to live elsewhere, we moved here just four or five years ago. Earlier, we were living quite far away, on the banks of the river, at a place called Bolondiar Khata. Before that we were somewhere else. I can tell you that I have lost count, the number of times we have been displaced by the Brahmaputra. It won’t be less than fifteen, sixteen, seventeen times. We really don’t have a place we can call home.

‘I have three sons and three daughters. All the boys are working as fishermen and in making and repairing fishing nets. That is a big business here still. The girls have been married off and live elsewhere.’

‘I’ve been going to Assam for over thirty years. Actually, I first went thirty-five years ago and I have travelled the entire length and breath of the Valley. I have been as far as Pasighat and Nameri in Arunachal Pradesh and as close as Dhubri. There isn’t a place where I haven’t been in Assam. The Assamese are nice people, I didn’t have much trouble there all these years. We would come and go quite easily. Pay a little on this side of the border to the guards, and pay a little over there to the Indians.

‘Can I tell you something, saheb? I haven’t been for about four or five years. But it was the Assamese who kept me on contract to catch fish and supply it to the local markets. I even stayed in Majuli for two years, helping build a boat near Kamlabari, the port. It was an Assamese contractor from Neamati Ghat who hired me for all those years. I would catch fish, help build the boat and even take the fish to the local haat.’

He paused. Memories returned in a surge.

The names of the villages and towns rolled off his tongue—Kamlabari, Natun Kamlabari, Dakhin Path. He had sold fish in Sibsagar, near the Shiva Dol, the large temple dedicated to Shiva, built in the seventeenth century by an Ahom king.

As mentioned before, the Ahoms came to the Brahmaputra Valley from the wedge between South-West China, South-East Myanmar and northern Thailand, and left an indelible impress on the countryside with their organizing skills, military prowess (especially as skilled naval commanders), the construction of sturdy buildings and roads, and a tough (at times downright brutal) and efficient administration.