Kohima is a place I’d wanted to visit for a very long time, ever since I learnt about the epic siege that took place in the Second World War. The town is in Nagaland, on the border of Burma and due to political problems here was one of the North East States that you needed special permission to travel to, and that was only given to organized groups. In 2011 that restriction was removed and travellers could go to the area without an ‘inner line permit’ as it was called.

Groups had visited in the past to visit the Commonwealth War Cemetery which is in the center of the town and which has been laid out on the site of some of the fiercest fighting during the siege of the Kohima in April 1944; most of the rest of the battlefield has now been built over.

Kohima has expanded out onto the neighbouring hills and there is now a population of over a quarter of million. The built up area is spread over the top of the steep hills and the jungle below laps up against the houses. Looking east towards Burma, the mountainous country is still covered in thick forest. Most of the people in Kohima are Nagas, the ethnic group of tribes people that lived in villages in the surrounding jungle but who now live mainly in towns. They look very different from the few Indians who live here, being quite small, with Chinese\Burmese features and darker skins.

The ethnic difference has been a problem since the war, as although the Nagas were fairly content under British rule and helped them in the fight against the Japanese; when India gained independence, the Nagas wanted their own independence as well. This has led to a long running insurgency which continues to this day. One’s first impressions of Nagaland are that it’s an area under military occupation. The town has armed soldiers continually patrolling it, and they are in addition to the numerous police on the streets. There’s no curfew but after dark, the businesses shut up quickly and by the early evening the only people moving on the streets are groups of soldiers. There are always lots of Army Lorries on the move, and often the cars of senior officers, surrounded by jeeps full of soldiers force their way through the traffic with sirens blaring. The unit in residence at the moment are the ‘Assam Rifles’, motto “Friends of the Hill People”, who were one of the Indian Army units who defended the town against the Japanese; generations later, they’re still there.

The large scale insurgency has ended, although there is a war memorial in the centre of the town which commemorates Indian soldiers killed in recent operations. Certainly it’s quiet enough for tourists to be let in, although I had to register at the police station, ‘for my security’ but this is not a place to visit if you are nervous around firearms.

The Nagas are also very different from the few plains Indians that live in town in that they are Christians. The British suppressed Headhunting but otherwise didn’t interfere with the Naga way of life and they restricted outside access to the area and that included access by missionaries. With independence America missionaries moved in on soul saving missions and now most of the population are one brand of Baptist or another; the Nagas had always believed in one Supreme Being so making the transition wasn’t too difficult for them. There are huge number of churches in the town as well as boy and girls hostels, bible study centres, church halls and even a ‘Billy Graham’ Road. On Sundays nearly everything is shut and families walk together to church clutching their bibles, usually heavily thumbed leather bound or ‘Good News’ editions. Everyone is dressed in their Sunday best with the women and girls in some fantastic outfits. Walking around throughout the day, it’s always possible to hear hymns and inspirational songs being belted out somewhere in the town.

On Sunday the Naga shawls and waistcoats also appear, probably the only time Naga culture is on display. Apart from a few ‘ceremonial’ entrances made from corrugated iron the traditional way of building has been replaced by poured concrete, and there almost no signs of the Nagas former way of life to be seen anywhere.  A ‘made for tourists’ Naga village has been constructed outside Kohima, and this has an arena where the annual Hornbill festival is held each December. Even though this has always been a traditional Naga festival, the fact that there lots of other events going on at the same time, like the Hornbill Half Marathon, the Hornbill Car Rally and weeklong series of Rock concerts (Heavy Metal is very popular in the North East), I imagine most of the population will be doing other things, and not watching traditional dancing.

Anyone going to Kohima expecting a cultural experience are going to be disappointed, the main reason to go there is to see the site of one of the great feats of courage and endurance in the history of the British Army, but that is another story. (more to follow)

I arrived in Imphal only a day ago, a place I wanted to see but which was right at the ‘end of the road’ so to speak so if I didn’t get there it wouldn’t matter. The infrastructure in this part of India hasn’t been improved since the British built it in the 1930’s, basically there’s one road that connects it with the outside world, which runs along the Kohima ridge to the town of Kohima and then down to the Diampur, which has the railhead. I thought I was being very clever when I booked a flight from Guwhati to Imphal, thinking that by getting to the furthest point I would not have to double back on my route and save many hours on Indian buses.

This wonderful plan started to go wrong as soon as I arrived at Imphal airport. There was a collection of ‘Foreigner Registration’ people waiting for me so that lots of forms could be filled in. One person filled in the forms and three of four people watched him do it. I was asked my next destination and I said I was going to travel to Kohima by road. Out of the question I was told, the day before yesterday a group had blockaded the road and nothing could get in or out – the town was cut off. The only way out of Imphal was to fly. I went straight to the Indian Airways office, where a man was attempting to repair the ribbon on an ancient dot matrix printer. After a few minutes of trail and effort he told me that he couldn’t get his printer to work, so couldn’t issue any tickets so the office was now – closed, and he put a board up against the window.

I then looked around for some transport to town and a group of businessmen in a car offered me a lift. They worked for TATA chemicals; one was the local agent, his friend and the guys boss who had just arrived on the plane. As we drove along they filled me in on the situation. I was aware that the road had been blocked earlier in the year and apparently that ‘blockade’ had lasted ninety days, and this was another group with some grievances’.

 There were about twenty eight groups in the area the local agent said and they all want something, particularly pay offs from local business people like himself, extortion and threats were part of normal life. “I carry a gun” he said passing a large revolver over the backseat to his friend. “Don’t worry” he said, “its’ registered.” I could see the Indian government crest on the stock and the rounds in the chambers. “I have to carry that, just so they know there’s only so far they can go”.

They were very enthusiastic about the prospect of Myanmar opening up and the proposal for a new road to be built from Yunnan in China, through Myanmar and then into India, which they thought would really help the prosperity of the area, and boost the governments ‘Look East’ policy.  Building a road through Myanmar could well be the easy bit compared to building a road in India and then keeping it open.
As we arrived in town they pointed out the fortifications around the Public Works Department and the long queue outside a petrol station. “Petrol is already rationed, and things will only get worse.” As we stopped by a hotel and I got my pack out of the boot I noticed that my new friend openly carried his gun in a holster on his belt. Imphal is not a normal place.

As it turned out the hotel was full and I walked around for a couple of hours before finding a room which is unusual for India. On my trek around the centre I’d passed a group of heavily armed soldiers, seen armoured cars go by and seen several large queues outside ATM’s as people took out their money, before the cash ran out. This looked like a town under siege.

I was now very concerned about being stuck here, if the flights were all full there was no way to leave and I might not have be able to access any money either. So first call was to a travel agent, where I managed to get a flight to Guwahati for today. This morning I had a whistle stop look around the town and then headed for the airport. The countryside around the town looked wonderful and I’d been looking forward to my journey along the Kohima Ridge; but sometimes the only thing to do is to cut and run.

This was my first visit to India since 2007 so I was interested to see what changes had been made in that time. The news in the West is of India the rising power that will soon be one of the top dogs. Certainly on my last visit I could see signs of change and thought that India was becoming a more modern society. On my first visit in 1989, I arrived in Delhi airport which was something of a dump, now the new Inderia Ghandi (IG) Airport is slick and modern and at Western standards.

The first signs of the unchanging nature of Indian society came in the immigration queue. There were manned counters for Diplomats and First and Business Class travellers, except there weren’t any. So the half dozen or so immigration officers (all male and older and hence more senior) sat around and chatted while their colleagues’ a few desks away had to handle a plane load. Even these took time out every couple of passengers, so stop and have a rest, having a stretch and a yawn before beckoning the next person forward. Indian bureaucracy moves at its own place. Most of the passengers were Indians returning from the Gulf and they seemed to have reams of paperwork that needed to be examined, who knows why, after all they were only re-entering their own country.

Outside the airport, the swish new Metro link to the city was not working and no one knew why, so I had to get the bus. Outside the Airport, India was much as ever, endless honking horns, might is right traffic rules, traffic lights that were invisible; instead the push and shove of traffic that slowly grinds around the cities. There are lots of new cars on the roads and more motorbikes and the airport had big ads for RangeRovers and Jaguars but in reality the ideal Indian car would be Landrover with steel girders welded on the sides. There are still a few ‘Ambassadors’ on the road, the 1950’s British design, all of which are government cars, as it’s unlikely an Indian car buyer would choose one.

In 2007, the one thing that did impress me was the new Metro in Delhi, and since then it has expanded dramatically, so much so most of the journeys I wanted to make around the city could be done on the Metro. A new factor in Indian society is the threat of Terrorism and the Mumbai attacks a couple of years ago have clearly made an impression on the Indian authorities and this is most obvious on the Metro. To get onto the platforms everyone has to go through airport level security, so the bags go through a x ray machine and everyone is frisked and run over with a metal detector. I didn’t travel at rush hour but the queues must be impressive. Around the stations, in concourses and in subways there are sandbagged gun emplacements manned by soldiers, and as their AK’s have the disposable see through plastic magazines you can see they are loaded with live rounds. Soldiers and sniffer dogs wander the trains and platforms. This level of security surrounds every public building and they clearly don’t intend to be caught napping again.

The Metro fares are very cheap and even the longest journey costs IR 35, about 40 pence UK. Although there is a stored value cards to pay for journeys used by the more affluent who can make the investment, the cheapness of the fares brings its own problems. India just doesn’t have enough small change and no one has thought of either producing more or stocking the ticket offices with it. There are no ticket machines; you have to buy from a person behind a counter. What this means is that the ticket offices are besieged by people trying to buy tickets (actually a ‘smart’ plastic counter) but can’t as there is no change.

Glitches aside, the Metro is very impressive, clean, bright and punctual and in reality quite unlike the rest of the country.

Again on my last visit I was stunned by the growth in mobile phones and how everyone either had one or wanted one; so it was surprising how few I saw on this visit. The middle classes had their smart phones but the explosive growth I had expected in all phones was not evident at all. Again security may be the reason, the government is concerned that new phones may be used for crime or to set off bombs in Kashmir so in order to buy one lots of ID has to be produced, which many poorer people just don’t have. Even to use an internet café or log into wifi, ID has to be produced and names and addresses noted down in a ledger. As all this information is recorded on scrappy bits of paper all over the place its use as intelligence is practically nil as none of it is collected, and depends on terrorists not having false ID’s and telling the truth. All it really does is creates more bureaucracy and deters people from getting things like mobiles and internet access which could help the countries development.  It’s an interesting contrast to Africa where I was two years ago, competition was so fierce between the phone companies SIM cards were given away on the street and they were at the forefront of the development of new services like transferring money via mobile phones. This exists in India but is pitched mainly at the middle classes.

One thing that always impresses me about India is the Railway system, the biggest in the world. This has changed a bit in that some of the rolling stock is newer and on my trips I paid out for AC seat, which is really quite OK. Of course there’s no way you can buy a ticket from a machine, it involves filling out a form, producing ID (which you also have to show on the train) and queuing at a counter. The whole thing still runs on pre Amstrad software and the tickets are spat out on a dot matrix printer, just as they were in 1989. It’s the world’s biggest employer and it just seems too big to change but at the end of the day it works, I have never had a problem with it; every seat booked has always been there. The train masters, usually older, dignified men as belays their status, go around with their lists and make sure everything is as it should be, and it is. The trains are slow, stop and start a lot and are often held up by ‘strikes’ but they always get there. They may even be in for a revival, as many of the internal airlines that saw explosive growth a couple of years ago are headed for bankruptcy. So the middle classes may rediscover the pleasures of long distance train travel.

When I arrived I was ready to see the new ‘fast forward into the future’ India and apart from the some new infrastructure like airport and metro I haven’t seen it. India seems unchanging, there are some nicer cars on the road but they still have to compete for road space with cycle rickshaws and tuk tuk’s, and even the odd elephant. There are still frequent blackouts and every business of any size has a generator, a huge drain on resources and productivity. New technology, like mobile phones and the internet which should help moves things along seem to have hit the buffers. Even English seems to be less widely spoken, which is one of India’s natural advantages. I’m sure pundits will say it’s different in places like Bangalore, but these are only small spots in a huge country, a country too big to change fast.