Growing up, I was always interested in the Sungs (‘stories’ in Lepcha) stored in our Lepcha language text books. Nothing would inspire me to work for my roots more than the stories of magical creatures who are believed to have existed in our ancestors' era. Among these are the Mungs (ghosts / monsters), Rummit (fairies), Rum (gods) and most importantly, the Lyungjee Lungnon / Dhokbu (the keepers of the sacred places).

Going back to my ancestral home, where my grandparents lived, was always a gem period for me, as I would be able to collect different stories from their experiences – some of which were passed down through several generations of our family. I have two ancestral homes, both in different corners of  Sikkim. My mother’s side is in Pakyong (East Sikkim), and my father’s side is in Phensong (North Sikkim).

I was born and raised in the capital town of my home state Sikkim, but in the last few years, a massive development has overtaken my hometown, which has made it more urbanised. Spaces have become more cramped, and there is a sudden surge in the normal temperature. Fields, which in the olden days would be filled with vegetables and different types of cultivation, have slowly turned into spaces for huge concrete buildings.

My father and aunt would sigh upon how the place has changed. They told me that when they first came to Gangtok to buy a plot, there were only jungles and few footpaths, hardly any roads to connect places. My father had then met the landlord, whose home was the only one in my locality at that time. 

Looking over to the other locality called Bojoghari across the hill, my aunt says, “Ek dui ghar hunda hundai thupro nai bhaoyo (from one or two houses it turned into a swarm of houses). I wonder what will happen to Gangtok.” 

There was a time when there were two massive, tall trees in front of my house, which were home to many birds – especially the seasonal birds that would cry out in their daily duties, and are known to originate from the sacred village Mayal Kyung beyond Mt Kanchenjunga. Since they were cut down, I have somewhere lost the sounds of these seasonal birds.

I have often wondered how our protectors – the Lungjee and Lungnon,who are basically a bigger category to the Dhokbu, cope with these changes. The forest spirits, who are our guides and protectors, are said to reside with us in the evenly-spread natural forest of Sikkim. ‘Dhokbu’, as we say in my mother tongue Lepcha, are said to hide themselves as they protect and sustain the  natural environment. But something has been disrupting the natural forest, its dwellers, and the balance between them. As a community, we have a deeply-rooted relationship with our rivers, mountains and lakes. Our origin stories are based in our ecology. We have different clans based on Chu Dho Lep (mountains, pass, lake). For example, the clan known as Hee Youngmingmoo pucho has their origin stories from Tyukyuong Dho (‘Tyukyuoung’ means pot, and ‘Dho’ means lake. Together it means – a lake in Hee Gyathang belonging to the Hee Youngmingmoo clan). I belong to a Taomoo clan from my father's side, which is known to have originated from the Lepcha village near Bhutan. My mother’s clan, the Shya Breemu (one of the five types of Breemu), is known to be among the ten clans in the Lepcha community who mastered the great plan to kill the then evil ancestor of our Lepcha history ‘Laso Mung Punu’.

In Pakyong, one such story would keep everyone grounded. The Lake Yeti or Seethe Phukni Bhoot (whistling ghost), or ZampeMung (in Lepcha) is said to pass by the garden of our home in the early dawn of autumn before winter, when the rice is ripe. They are known to emerge from the lake above the cliff near our home. Every year, they pass by, and we see them as the guardians of the land, who have come over for the annual offerings. It is known that if a person is to encounter them, they would be seriously ill.

My sister told me of an incident one summer night, when they were making beds in the altar after dinner and having a conversation. Our youngest aunt heard a whistle and told everyone to be quiet, so that they could pay respect to the guardian who was passing by.

Other such annual offerings are made by the male members of our family to the forest spirits, where forest fruits, meats of domestic animals, and fish from the local village river are offered. Lepchas were always hunter-gatherers, and our ancestors practised hunting. In order to maintain the harmony of hunter’s blood in our lineage and please the forest god, they used to ask the forest spirits and gods for help, so they might prosper. In the newer generations, even though most people have moved away from traditional occupations, the annual ritual as an offering to please the forest gods is still made in order to maintain the equilibrium among the god and his devotees. It is believed that if such offerings are not made, the forest gods get offended, and misfortunes or mishaps might occur within that particular family.

Regarding the Yeti, there is one legend which is passed down in every storybook of the Lepchas. It is known that there was once a shepherd boy who lived alone near the mountains. His pastime was to play a bamboo flute, which he had made for himself one day. Every evening, after he was done with his day’s work, he would sit down to play his flute as a means of leisure. Until one night, he heard loud, heavy footsteps from the mountains approaching his doorstep. It was the Snow Yeti who had come to his house following the sounds of his flute. The Yeti was so mesmerized by the sounds of the flute that he sat in front of the shepherd and gave him signs to continue playing. But whenever the boy would get tired, the yeti wouldn't let him take a breath and would press on his flute each time he tried to rest. The boy had to play the flute till morning.

The next morning, the Yeti left before the first sun rays hit the land. The same evening, the Yeti returned, to the boy’s surprise, and the same thing happened again, until the shepherd devised a plan to trick the Yeti. The next evening, he made a fire and kept a packet of butter in front of it. The Yeti came again, and sat directly in front of the boy near the fire. The boy began to pretend to massage his body with the hot butter, and the Yeti, mesmerized, did the same. He then took a small twig from the fire and pretended to bring it closer to his skin. The Yeti, whose skin was glazed with the hot butter, copied him yet again. But this time he burned himself and, with his entire body covered in fire, he ran into the cold icy mountains, never to disturb the shepherds ever again.

Some spirits might be evil such as the Munloon Mung, who is believed to be a shape shifter. It might trick you in disguise of a dear person you know, or a beautiful woman or man, and make you fall from a cliff and take your soul away. But just as there are two sides of a coin, there are spirits who are actually  protectors of their land, rivers and even humans.

Being brought up in the urban town of Gangtok where forest areas are less, I was never allowed to move through the jungle footways, although one could spot a few on the way to my home. My cousins and I would make secret hideouts in one such jungle below the community church. Things have changed since then – the last time I visited home I saw a huge building being built. My brother said, “Our locality has changed a lot. Not only have new buildings been set up, but the older buildings have been raised two or three floors up, and the footpaths are darkened by the shadow”. It is disheartening to see my locality become more grey and less green, more noisy and less peaceful, having more erratic weather and less static one, and more people but less wise ones.

In October 2023, a massive disaster occurred in Sikkim – the great flash-flood which swept away all the settlements near the great river Teesta. The water level had risen to overpower the humans who had built the Stage Four Hydropower project in the valley town of  Chungthang, in the northern region of Sikkim. It has been almost a decade since Lepchas folks have been raising their voices to the government to stop the projects that disrupt the natural settlements and their ecological balance. And ever since the flood, Sikkim has been facing frequent overflows of the Teesta river that block every road from the national highway to the plains. This year, too, the Teesta river has been much more erratic in her ways, and threatens to wash away all who fall in her path, and lead to people being stranded and losing their lives. We believe it is the nature spirits and our mother, who are angry with the ongoing urbanization and emerging modernization. 

An organization called The Affected Citizens of Teesta has been set up to fight against the dam project. One of the members of this organization, Anom Mayalmit Lepcha, says, “Affected Citizens of Teesta was formed to save the river Teesta and the land rights of the Lepcha of Dzongu, which includes the rich biodiversity of Dzongu, and for protecting the rich and fragile ecology from the destructive hydro-power project in Dzongu region and other parts of Sikkim. The Lepcha community should resist the dams and other infrastructure development projects, demand for immediate scrapping of these projects from Dzongu and other regions of North Sikkim, and focus on eco tourism and village tourism.”

Our tradition holds a lot of myths and stories which are indeed true to an extent for it has been scaring the wits of people whenever they visit the place of action where the myth or folklore originated. One such story is about Munloon Mung that took place in Dzongu in northern Sikkim. Ren Punchuwang was a great and renowned bongthing of our community. Many stories are told about his life, especially about his encounters with Muloon Mung. One such story goes like this –

Ren Punchuwang lived with his wife at the bottom of this hill, quite far off, on the outskirts of the village. It was the summer season and the cicadas around his home were making a lot of noise. It was so loud and irritating that he could not sleep at night.

The insects kept up their racket for almost a week until Ren Punchuwang could not bear it any more. One day he said to his wife, ‘Nyom, I’m going to the jungle to find those cicadas and kill them. Cook some rice. Don’t bother making anything else. I will bring the cicadas, and we can eat them for our dinner.’ 

Saying this, Ren Punchuwang went into the forest, holding a torch made from a bundle of sticks that he had tied together and set alight.

His wife watched him from their window. After a while she saw a huge blaze of fire from deep in the forest, and she assumed that her husband had done the job.

The fire kept blazing, and she watched until she saw a figure coming towards her home, silhouetted against the flames. The figure appeared to be carrying something under its arm, like a small log.

Then she looked more carefully, and what she saw made her eyes bulge out.

She rushed to the store room and pulled out all the firewood they had gathered for the whole winter. She piled the logs in her doorway and set them on fire to block the entrance. Then she heard the sound of something coming up to the house.

It was Muloon Mung, and in his hands he was holding one of Ren Punchuwang’s thighs. He stuck it through the ventilator over the door and said, “Punchuwang Tah Tah! (Look, there’s Punchuwang!)”

The Mung knew he would not be able to pass through the flames. So he waited outside, peeking into the ventilator now and then to check on the brightness of the fire.

He was waiting for the fire to die down, you see, so he could get into the home. 

And indeed, once all the logs had burned up, Muloon Mung went inside and gobbled up Punchuwang’s wife, too.

This photo essay is one of the depictions of one such nature spirit who resides in the forest. One  such spirit,  who maintains the natural balance of the forest taking care of all the losses and filling it with gain, resides in a forest near my home. As we proudly proclaim nature having her mother, we believe the spirit, being a female, roams around the corners of the human settlements and forest, checking over the balance.

About the pictures 

The pictures have been taken in the landscape of Sikkim and near the forest of my home. In the time of monsoon, when hills are covered with mist, it is known that during this period one is bound to meet a spirit in a forest.