A group of women making earthen pots at Pongo village in
Longleng district.
DIMAPUR — In the serene village of Pongo in
Longleng district, Chahang has dedicated over four decades to preserving the
traditional craft of pottery—an art she had learnt from her mother. With hands
shaped by years of hard work and a heart brimming with cultural pride, Chahang
continues to mould clay into vessels of history, even as the craft faces the
challenges of modernity.
“I started working in pottery before I got married, and it
has been over 40 years now,” Chahang recalls. She credits her mother for
teaching her the intricate techniques of pottery-making, which involve blending
three kinds of clay: Laiishong (grey clay), Shutra (brown clay), and broken
clay, smashed and mixed together.
In the past, pottery in Pongo village served practical
purposes, such as cooking and storing rice, water, seeds, and others. However,
by the late 1990s, Chahang began innovating, adding decorative features like
handles, thickened necks, and ornate designs. Today, most of her creations are
made for ornamental purposes rather than utility. “The demand is no longer the
same,” she says. “What was once essential for daily life is now primarily
appreciated as art.”
The process of making pottery in Pongo village is deeply
rooted in traditions and taboos. From collecting clay to firing pots, strict
rituals are observed. “Everyone involved must remain physically clean, and the
areas where we collect clay must be kept clean,” explains Chahang. “If these
rituals are not followed, the pots do not turn out well and often crack during
the firing process.”
Potters also adhere to cultural restrictions, halting all
work if a death occurs in the village. The pots are typically fired in January
or February before the windy season begins.
The demand for clay pots has significantly diminished with
the rise of aluminium and plastic utensils. Younger generations are showing
little interest in learning the craft, discouraged by the labour-intensive
process and the many taboos involved. “Pottery is no longer a necessity; it’s
now a cultural relic,” Chahang laments.
This shift has also impacted the barter system that once
thrived in the community. In earlier days, pots were exchanged for essential
goods like salt, cloth, and cotton. Today, such practices are nearly forgotten,
leaving potters to rely on occasional decorative orders.
Despite these challenges, Chahang remains determined to keep
the tradition alive. She emphasises the need for government and organisational
support to preserve this dying art. “We need designated spaces to fire pots and
workshops to teach younger generations,” she says. “So far, no one has taken
the initiative to provide these resources.”
Chahang has had a few opportunities to showcase her craft on
larger platforms. She fondly remembers attending an international conference on
South Asian ceramics in Chennai, facilitated by Dr. Ditamulii Vasa and Pangtuk.
However, such instances are rare, and local potters often struggle without any
formal support.
Chahang’s dedication extends beyond her craft—she is eager
to teach others. “I am ready to share my knowledge with anyone interested,
whether in Nagaland or elsewhere,” she says. “It is crucial for our younger
generations to understand the value of our culture before it’s too late.”
As she continues to work with clay, Chahang hopes her
efforts will inspire renewed interest in traditional pottery, ensuring that
this vital aspect of Pongo’s heritage is not lost to time. Her story is a
poignant reminder of the delicate balance between tradition and modernity and
the urgent need to preserve cultural crafts before they fade away completely.
(The writer is a Master's student at North-Eastern Hill
University, Shillong. She is currently an intern at Eastern Mirror.)
