Assam: Majuli -> Jorhat – In Search of a Hairdresser I found the Indian Michael Jackson from Assam

17. – 19. November 2025

 

 

I took an e-rickshaw to the mask-making monastery, Samaguri Satra. In principle, these e-rickshaws would be ideal for getting around on Majuli: they trundle quietly and slowly through the peaceful landscape. But they have one drawback: you really feel the bumpy road! You bounce around on your seat and get shaken and jolted. Taking photos during the ride is impossible. But that’s just a side note — now to the masks.

 

There is this quite famous mask-maker, Hemchandra Goswami. Many people make a sort of pilgrimage to him and become his students. In the past, only men made masks, but now women can learn the craft as well. The first step is to build the shape of the mask out of bamboo.

 

 

On top of that comes a kind of cloth with plaster or something similar — and after that, the form is coated with a mixture of clay and cow dung.

 

 

 

In the end, the mask is painted. The whole process takes several days because the mask has to dry thoroughly again and again. Figures from Hindu stories are created, mainly from the Ramayana. In an exhibition room you can look at many examples.

 

 

 

But they also create other kinds of art — I found this bird quite funny:

 

 

 

 

The people were nice, the masks impressive — but somehow I didn’t really manage to get into a conversation. I may need to come up with some questions for when I visit with a group.

 

Then I went back and took the ferry all the way back to Jorhat. This ferry was a bit more comfortable and nicer than the one on the way there, but I still don’t really find the journey pleasant. You see so little, the engine is loud — and it also took a full two hours.

 

 

 

 

 

In Jorhat I had booked the Diamir accommodation again, and this time I was pleasantly surprised. It was nice and clean and had a wonderful bed with a soft mattress and a proper blanket — the first time since Delhi. And I realised how much I had missed that. Happily, I booked an extra night and spent a lot of time on the soft bed. I felt drained from the PAP issues, other group-travel problems, all the impressions, and my cold with bronchitis and a runny nose. I was really glad not to have to do much. Another nice thing about the accommodation is that many women work there.

 

 

I also found a nice, clean little restaurant just around the corner — but the German rolls, on the other hand, didn’t seem very appealing to me. And what those things have to do with Germany? No idea.

 

 

I wandered around a bit. My impression of Jorhat/Assam: quite nice. Not much hassle. Lots of clinics and medical services.

 

 

 

 

Then I thought I could finally go to the hairdresser and went looking for one. But where there are hairdressers on every corner elsewhere, here I couldn’t find a single one. However, at a university nearby they were performing a dance, so I went over out of curiosity. The people were thrilled — and I was placed in the front row on a soft sofa, given tea and cake, and they explained to me that it was the birthday of Zubeen Garg, the Indian Michael Jackson.

 

I had already come across Zubeen Garg many times before — not him personally, of course, but his picture.

 

 

Zubeen Garg was a multi-talent: musician, singer, filmmaker, actor, poet. He sang in 40 languages and recorded over 40,000 songs. He is essentially a national hero in Assam. And then, two months ago, he died in a swimming accident in Singapore, at only 52 years old. He apparently wasn’t the easiest character (feel free to read about him in Wikipedia), but right now, after his death, he is being revered like a folk hero. A lady at the event even referred to him as the Michael Jackson of India (who was also a “special character”).

 

At this memorial event, people danced to his songs, a band of men (the singer was a philosophy student) and several women performed his music, and everyone really did seem quite moved.

 

 

 

 

 

In the end they all sang his best song together, and then they took group photos. Somehow they seemed truly honoured to have this foreign guest who happened to witness it all. And I thought: unimaginable in Germany — if you, looking foreign, wandered into some memorial event, that you would be treated with such hospitality and honour.

 

 

Not the being fussed over — but the fact that in India you so easily encounter surprising things, that’s what I absolutely love. You basically just have to walk around with curiosity, and most of the time you’ll see or experience something.

 

The next day was my birthday — and I was actually very content to experience pretty much nothing. But I did want to “celebrate” just a little — although my lunch turned out to be rather simple. But it was at the same restaurant as the day before, and the people there were so happy to see me again. Since Majuli, I also hadn’t encountered any other Western person.

 

 

Then I went to the beauty parlour and got a facial treatment and a massage. In between, an acquaintance dropped by and chattered away loudly at my treatment-giver — and that’s when I realised that I actually wasn’t as peaceful inside as I had thought. It drove me crazy, and I almost jumped up and ran away. On top of that, she kept pressing on my eyelids with her oily fingers, which gave me puffy eyes rather than beauty. Still, we took a final photo together:

 

 

It was relatively expensive — and I comforted myself with the thought that at least my money was going to ordinary women, which felt perfectly fine. Afterwards, I went to the hairdresser, who cut my hair too short for €1.20 but then gave me a strong, pleasant head massage.

 

 

Then I thought that on your birthday you really ought to eat a birthday cake — and at the hotel I had something that was called a brownie. But it was more like a warm chocolate cake.

 

 

So my birthday experiences weren’t exactly perfect, but not bad either. And feeling content, I sank back onto the clean, soft mattress. The next day I wanted to take the bus to Guwahati, and the hotel guy had gotten me a VIP bus ticket.

 

And then I had another surprise — not a very pleasant one, but it ended well…

 

Ah, I forgot: news regarding the PAP. Or rather, unfortunately no real news. CM Rio is indeed working on the PAP issue in Delhi, and the newspapers are reporting about it:

 

 

The problem: still no official response. Not even two days later. It remains a thriller (without any deaths).