Ziro Festival of Music brings Arunachal Pradesh into mainstream focus

It has done far more than just putting the remote Ziro valley on the music map.

Enthralled crowds at ZFM 2022. | Photo Credit: Mohit Sharma

The sun is yet to set on Day Two of the Ziro Festival of Music (ZFM). David Baker—the lead vocalist of Dr Dope, the man who discovered his singing voice when he was crossing the age of 50—is bringing the audience to its feet with his rendition of “Hiya jolai” while he himself sits comfortably cross-legged on a stool. The former drummer strums his rhythm guitar, revelling in the connect he feels with a thousand people for whom nothing exists in that moment except for the chords, string and vocal, he is playing.

Behind him is the backdrop of golden fields pregnant with crop. Rice, interspersed with slightly taller stalks of millet with brown crowns. Both grains will be harvested in a matter of days, and a portion will be fermented to create three varieties of apong: rice, millet, and a rice-millet mix. Apong is popularly referred to as beer but is closer to wine in texture and punch.

A single day at this venue can see all four seasons unwind. But right now, it is too late for sunscreen, too early for sweaters and, mercifully, too ridiculous to hold up an umbrella. The rays of the setting sun, infused with woodsmoke, make me feel that I am at the trisection of music, nature and exotica. As if reading my thoughts, Raja Muthu, who has travelled all the way from Coimbatore, says: “I feel like the north-east is the soul of India. Listen to him! I have been following him online. Such musicians must be heard all across the world, not just India. There is so much talent here.”

A music session at ZFM 2022. | Photo Credit: Eshwar Sundaresan

ZFM (held this year from September 29 to October 2) was created to bring committed indie musicians and their devoted fan, people like Muthu, on to a common platform, and by the looks of it, it has succeeded in spades, becoming a favoured destination for serious music aficionados.

I cannot help but think of how it all began in the minds of the festival’s co-founders Bobby Hano and Anup Kutty, and how it almost didn’t fall in place.

How it started

Hano was doing small gigs with Itanagar as his base when Menwhopause came touring the north-east in 2011. Hano was excited about hosting and organising for this band because its guitarist, Anup Kutty, was the chief editor of Maxim, his favourite magazine. Hano was eagerly awaiting their arrival from Dimapur when he learnt that a 48-hour curfew would be imposed in Itanagar starting the next morning. Hano promptly postponed the concert and welcomed the band with the proposition to spend the next two days at a more picturesque place.

The next day, Hano and the band were at Ziro, one of Arunachal Pradesh’s oldest towns located about 100 km from the capital, Itanagar, staring at picture-perfect landscapes while sipping mugs of apong. Kutty realised it would be a great place to host musical events. Hano’s ears perked up. The duo discussed an exciting but vague possibility. A couple of months later, Hano called Kutty to further the conversation.

“The idea was stuck in my head, and that was clearly the case for Bobby as well,” Kutty says. At this juncture, the idea ceased to be an alcohol-fuelled whimsy.

Bobby Hano, one of the two founders of ZFM. | Photo Credit: Mohit Sharma

Hano began scouting for venues and, by sheer coincidence, stumbled upon the festival’s home: a huge tract of land that, among other things, served as a burial ground for less-affluent members of three Apatani clans, the Lyagi, the Tage, and the Mudang. The first year, Hano and his team often found skeletal remains when they dug to erect their edifices; they respectfully closed and marked these spots.

With the venue fixed, Hano began scrambling to make the requisite arrangements. All items necessary, from safety pins to giant canvas tents, had to be ferried all the way from Guwahati. This meant that the production list had to be prepared meticulously and reviewed multiple times. It simply would not be possible to travel to Guwahati at the last minute if a crucial item had been left out. Back then, the train did not come all the way to Naharlagun, Itanagar’s twin city, which connects with Ziro through back-breaking roads but has the advantage of being a mere four hours away.

Meanwhile, Kutty began convincing his musician friends that travelling to Ziro was a great idea. “We didn’t have money for flight tickets, so they had to take a train to Guwahati. Bobby had told me that it would take a further six hours of travel by road. Of course, it was 17 hours away on a good day. I’m glad Bobby didn’t mention the travel time accurately… many bands would have refused to come!”

One band present on that debut year (2012) and again now, in 2022, is Peter Cat Recording Co. Its lead singer Suryakant Sawhney, aka Lifafa, recalls their arrival after almost 21 hours on the road. “We were hammered, that was the only way to make the journey. As soon as we got here, we had to do soundcheck, then begin rehearsing. It was kinda little crazy, you know, but when you look back, you are always glad to have done it.”

Sawhney and the other artists must have stared at a venue calf-deep in slush. It had been raining non-stop for weeks, and the generator van—the hidden heartthrob of any music festival—was stuck on the other side of a landslide. Ten hours before the scheduled launch, Hano and Kutty sat anxiously in a room in Ziro Valley Resort, situated right opposite the venue, and considered cancelling the event. Eventually, they decided to brave the odds.

Anup Kutty, one of the founders of ZFM. | Photo Credit: Mohit Sharma

When the generator van eventually reached, it took masterful negotiations to convince the driver to enter the slushy venue. Almost like magic, the skies cleared, the roads opened, and the generator purred to life.

“Once the music started, it was all sorted,” says Hano, beaming with nostalgic pride. “That first year was emotional for me. I am Apatani, but I spent my formative years in boarding schools. I had never done anything in Ziro before … my hometown. Now, this had begun.”

Today, the roads are vicious and the network terrible. Back then, both were non-existent. So were the brands of the festival and its founders. “If we had sat and meditated over how difficult it would be, we probably wouldn’t have dared venture into this,” says Kutty.

“Another thing that worked in our favour was the geography,” adds Hano. Here, he is alluding not to the beauty but to the inaccessibility of the terrain. “Being in the extreme corner of the country gave us enough time to improve and scale up gradually, organically. We are now ready to offer a superior experience.”

Financial hurdles

The journey that took Bobby Hano to the Conde Nast list of “50 people to know in the Himalayas” has been arduous. “We managed to sell a grand total of 30, maybe 40 tickets that first year,” says Hano. “All in all, 200 people attended, most of them organisers, crew members and artists.”

Kutty answers the obvious follow-up question.

“How did we manage financially? By borrowing from friends and family. That first year, Bobby borrowed the bulk of the capital from local moneylenders and got caught in a crazy debt spiral.”

“One of the attendees that year was the Tourism Minister of Arunachal Pradesh,” adds Hano. “Thanks to him, we received a little funding from the Tourism Department the second year. That Minister was Pema Khandu, the current Chief Minister!”

As the years rolled by, two things happened. The festival gained a reputation among music lovers and the co-founders, Hano in particular, gained a mountain of debt. He even had to sell some land, a move that is deeply mourned in Apatani culture. Hano also had to refuse many lucrative assignments. What began as a fun adventure was now a heavy responsibility. He felt the pressure to deliver a quality experience to the growing audience of ZFM. “In 2016, or maybe it was 2017, I suffered a mild stroke. By then, I was sleeping very little, stressed all the time, experiencing challenges I don’t even want to talk about … my income had dropped to an alarming level. I even stopped attending other music festivals.”

A scene from ZFM 2019. | Photo Credit: Mohit Sharma

In 2018, the festival finally broke even, and in 2019, managing finances became a breeze. 2020 would have seen profits rolling in had the pandemic not happened. For two years since, the valley’s resident musician—the species of cricket native to Ziro, which is to the common cricket what heavy metal is to pop—filled the glum silence.

Back in business

Now, with the festival back in full swing, I see not only the box office ringing loud but also a list of sponsors. While smaller sponsors are visible in ancillary stalls, the Danyi (Apatani for Sun, the day stage) and the Pwlo (also spelt Polo, Apatani for Moon, the night stage) stages are named after Signature and Simba respectively. Kutty confesses to not knowing the financial modelling required to arrive at the brand value of the festival. He therefore guesstimated the sponsorship amounts ZFM would charge, based on an internal estimate of breakeven expenses. But he and Hano were more particular about non-financial aspects.

“We presented our potential sponsors with a lot of hurdles,” says Kutty, laughing. “Which is what we do with artists too. We ask questions like, ‘Do you really want to be here? Do you know how long it takes? Do you know how bad the roads are?’ We proactively discourage till we know they are committed.”

Every fixture in ZFM seems to have been crafted by an artful environmentalist. | Photo Credit: Mohit Sharma

“We want only those who align with the music and the ideology,” adds Hano, hinting that they have succeeded in this quest.

Part of that ideology is the environmentally sound practices followed by ZFM. Every edifice in the venue is made using organic material, mainly bamboo. This is the result of what Hano and Kutty saw at the end of the third edition: a mountain of garbage composed of non-degradable material. “Never again,” they vowed.

Today, we see the fruits of that resolution in the festival’s unique design aesthetic. Every fixture in ZFM seems to have been crafted by an artful environmentalist. Or maybe an environmental artist.

Community participation

“I wanted outsiders to visit us during our busiest time of the year,” says Hano. “People are harvesting, chopping wood for the winter. It’s not just the venue, the entire valley is celebrating, and this gives outsiders a substantial glimpse of Apatani culture.” It is not known whether the overlap of dates between ZFM and Durga Puja increases or decreases footfalls, but Hano is enthralled by the impact the festival has had on local youth, especially since unemployment is common in the valley.

“Many unemployed youth offer labour to us, others sell us bamboo, which means they maintain bamboo plantations through the year. The festival needs around 20,000 bamboos. With each stalk costing Rs. 40, that’s a fine boost to the local economy. I feel proud making payments to the locals at the end of the festival.”

Young Apatani women in traditional attire at ZFM 2022. | Photo Credit: Mohit Sharma

The impact is amplified in the town of Hapoli—situated atop the hill at the entrance to the valley. From having four-five small hotels, the town is now home to more than 50, and each bed is occupied during the festival, as are the campsites and homestays. But with success comes criticism.

During a meeting held at the DC’s office to discuss preparations for the event, some community leaders accused ZFM of promoting drug usage and prostitution. Retorts Kutty: “It would be stupid of organisers to promote unruly behaviour that accompanies the drug and flesh trade.”

The State Agriculture Minister spoke in favour of the festival, reminding attendees that drug usage is anyway a serious issue in many parts of the north-east and peddlers may use the opportunity to push, which is why the bandobast in and around the venue is tight. To further the message, Hano has placed signages at the venue with the slogan ‘Zero Drug Ziro’.

Both Kutty and Hano try to involve local bodies, not only to reduce friction but also to anchor the festival in the subculture. This year, a local women’s association is managing waste generated by ZFM.

Eclectic line-up

“We aren’t keen on hosting heavy-duty EDM or death metal,” says Kutty, who is responsible for curating the line-ups, “but other than that, anything goes.”

“If anyone comes up with new music at the edges of the world, we are interested. And we prefer musicians who have not signed with big labels,” says Hano.

“Every year, we try to have a really good mix of artists,” adds Kutty. “Artists who are on the make, those who we know will be the next big thing, plus a mix of people who have already been there, done that, you know, and who have something to offer emerging artists. Of course, they should all write their own songs, put out their own music… be independent. ZFM is a clever confluence of independent musicians, even if I say so myself.”

It is also evident that the line-up strives to represent the entire north-eastern region while also offering a variety of national artists and a tinge of international flavours. The eclecticism transcends genres, eras, styles and languages.

Expanding scope

For the third time, ZFM has partnered with Saint Claret’s College Ziro (SCCZ) for the Ziro Literary Festival (ZLF), which hasn’t gained as much traction as ZFM but nevertheless hosts interesting workshops and panel discussions which, in the long run, can bring literary fervour to a geography bereft of it. “Ziro is known for nature tourism and cultural tourism, and with ZLF, literary tourism can be a new prospect,” says Fr Allwyn, Principal of SCCZ and the person who liaisons with the ZFM team.

Hano hopes such collaborations will convince cynics that ZFM wants to spread culture in all its hues. Meanwhile, the festival is adding new components such as butterfly trails, nature hikes, dance and yoga sessions, tapestry-making and village tours to draw in family travellers. Is ZFM trying to be everything to everybody? “Yes,” Kutty says, and agrees there is the fear of moving away from their ethos.

My mind wanders back to David Baker on the sublime Danyi stage. Unlike the Pwlo stage, which is more typical for a music festival, the Danyi stage has a low-rise platform and is located in front of grassy knolls where aficionados can loll, laze, recover from hangovers, or picnic while listening to soulful performances. Like most things ZFM, this stage emerged organically. During an early edition, Kutty saw people listening intently to an artist noodling with his instrument in an empty stall. It gave him the idea that jamming can be a spectator sport provided it is done purposefully. Thus, half the performances of ZFM got shifted to this stage to offer low-octane performances with higher personal connect.

In its 2022 edition, ZFM witnessed performances in English and Arunachali tribal dialects such as Nyishi, Apatani, Galo, and Tagin. In addition, spectators heard melodies in Mizo (The Prophets), Nepali (Salakhala and Bipul Chettri), Kokborok (Kolomo), Dakhni or Deccani (rap, Pasha Bhai), Punjabi (Rabbi Shergill), Hindi/Rajasthani (folk, Jumme Khan), Urdu (qawwali, Rehmat-e-Nusrat), Manipuri (folk, Mangka), French-Arabic-English (Yelli yelli, artist born to Algerian-Czech parents), Assamese, Japanese (Pinky Doodle Poodle), Khasi (Da Minot) and, of course, the language-free instrumental music by Kamala Shankar on her shankar veena, the Indian slide guitar, and William Rees, aka Gwilym Rhys, on his avant-garde viola, playing Hindustani and Afghani classical music. It is unlikely that any other Indian music festival offers performances in so many languages.

I recall the words of Saranya Mishra, a Mumbai-based corporate lawyer who, while listening to David Angu on the Pwlo stage on Day 1, said: “I don’t know what language he is singing in, but the music’s beautiful. It’s music that matters, it’s music that brings people together.” For the record, Angu sang in Nyishi, Apatani, and Galo as well as in English. But as Mishra says, who cares? If there is a more beautiful place on earth where one can hear such diverse melodies, I would like to know about it.

Eshwar Sundaresan is an author, freelance journalist, counsellor, life skills trainer, and bestselling ghostwriter.

The Crux

• Ziro Festival of Music (held this year from September 29 Sept to October 2) was created in 2012 by Anup Kutty and Bobby Hano to bring committed indie musicians and their devoted fan to a common platform
• There were many hurdles ranging from bad roads and remoteness of Ziro to financial difficulties
• In 2018, the festival finally broke even, and in 2019, managing finances became a breeze. 
• With the festival back in full swing after the pandemic, not only is the box office ringing loud now but there’s also a list of sponsors
• Every fixture in ZFM seems to have been crafted by an artful environmentalist
• It offers a boost to the local economy
• Both Kutty and Hano try to involve local bodies, not only to reduce friction but also to anchor the festival in the subculture
• The festival is adding new components such as butterfly trails, nature hikes, dance and yoga sessions, tapestry-making and village tours to draw in family travellers
• In its 2022 edition, ZFM witnessed performances in English and Arunachali tribal dialects such as Nyishi, Apatani, Galo, and Tagin