Nagaland -> Majuli/Assam – A low point in the evening

14. November 2025

 

 

I could have explored Nagaland for longer, but I also felt the urge to get a better idea of the upcoming Diamir trip beforehand. My time in Nagaland ended with the same person it had begun with: Abul. It had only been a week since he picked me up at the airport. And now we were about to drive almost the same route back again. Almost — because my destination wasn’t the airport in Dimapur this time, but the train station.

 

The departure turned out to be a bit difficult – Abul just didn’t come. He was stuck in traffic. Really stuck. I started getting a bit nervous. My host had packed my breakfast for me, and we chatted a little more. He is an anesthetist and runs a small private clinic together with his brother, who is a surgeon. He, too, doesn’t have a good relationship with India and doesn’t feel integrated into the state structure. But he also knows that such a small territory like Nagaland would have a hard time existing on its own. In Ladakh, for example, people are glad to be part of India, since the alternatives would be Pakistan or China. Nagaland borders Myanmar. Unfortunately, I didn’t ask him whether that alternative would be conceivable for the Nagas (I’ll need to follow up on that). I had booked him through Airbnb, a platform where people leave feedback for each other. His review of me I found somehow “sweet”:

 

 

I then walked up to the main road and saw that indeed no traffic was moving in either direction – some large trucks had gotten a bit tangled up. But then Abul finally appeared, I jumped into the car, and we inched our way through the heavy traffic for a while – and then he knew a great alternative route, and we bounced our way back to the main road. That one was also full of obstacles, with slow cars and so on, and I was a bit nervous. But Abul stepped on the gas, proved himself to be an excellent driver, and even managed to hit 100 km/h at one point. And then we ended up arriving at the train station far too early. But better that than the other way around.

 

 

There was even enough time left for a tea. And although I was still in Nagaland, I already felt much more like I was back in India. The smells, the sounds, the look of everything — it was no longer new, but rather familiar.

 

 

 

As a child, I always found train stations very exciting — starting points for new experiences far away. The ones in India still give me that special feeling of being on the move. The people waiting, arriving, and departing, the loudspeaker announcements, the other trains, the kiosks — I like this mix of people that constantly reshapes itself. Here are a few photos:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Regarding the last photo: I was actually somehow relieved to escape this concentrated Christianity again. There were no crucified Jesuses anywhere, but instead Bible verses everywhere in public (for example also on the Dzukou trek). I’ll do a proper reflection on Nagaland only after the Hornbill Festival. I’ll be going back there with the group anyway.

 

The train ride wasn’t very eventful. I was sitting next to a man with a dog. That was remarkable — I can’t remember ever seeing other people in India traveling with a dog. And once I went to the toilet, where the colors were so pretty that I took a photo.

 

 

 

The train departed with almost half an hour of delay, but we still arrived on time. Maybe the German Railways should list their schedules a bit more generously as well? The destination was Jorhat, a city from which you can reach the ferry terminal to Majuli. I took a rickshaw. It was bumpy and took a while because there were so many speed breakers on the road.

 

 

 

 

At the ferry terminal there was a ticket counter, and I got a ticket from this machine. It was very cheap — 30 INR = 30 cents. And I was allowed to use the women’s line, which was very short.

 

 

Then I walked down to the jetty. There my ticket was checked and written into a book together with my phone number and place of origin. I wonder whether boats sometimes sink or people fall overboard and they think this way they can identify them more easily?

 

 

RFalling overboard, however, would not have been easy at all. There was an enclosed lower deck where people sat and only had small porthole windows. On the upper deck, motorcycles and cars were parked. And there was even a toilet.

 

 

 

 

 

I didn’t find the ferry ride as pretty as I had imagined. You were so cramped in and could see very little, it was loud because of the engine, and it took almost two hours. Not a pleasant river experience.

 

 

 

 

Majuli is considered the largest river island in the world — but when I look at Google Maps, I don’t understand why it’s an island…

 

 

Many, many years ago I had already seen a documentary about the monks in Majuli — back before there was any real tourism there (at that time, travelers slept in the monasteries). I had also heard from others who had been there that they liked it very, very much. So I arrived with a correspondingly positive attitude. When I got there, it did seem pleasantly nice, rural, quiet, and friendly. My (Diamir) accommodation was supposed to be only 100 meters from the jetty. Or at least Google Maps showed 600 meters. In any case, easy to walk. Problem: there was nothing! Only fields. I called the manager, and he came to pick me up by car. It’s 1.4 km away — it’s marked incorrectly. Why doesn’t he get it corrected? He mumbled excuses.

 

And after checking in came the low point of the day. It was a larger property with individual “bungalows” — which were not maintained. According to the previous tour leader, they were supposedly newly built in 2023. But they looked more like they had been built 20 years ago and never had any maintenance invested in them. My room was so neglected, dirty, and loveless! I didn’t photograph it, but on the toilet tank there was a spiderweb full of foam (which was then removed), water was leaking from the pipe next to the toilet, in the dirty trash bin there was an old cigarette packet, stained pillows, a mirror full of marks, door and window handles almost falling off — an absolutely loveless place! And I was supposed to stay there for two nights with 8 travelers and keep up good spirits? I could already see them in front of me with big accusing eyes, ready to revolt. And on top of that, there wasn’t even Wi-Fi.

 

I reported my misfortune to Azo and asked about alternatives, and then the manager came to my room. He let me show him everything, took photos of it all, and had new pillows brought in. I went outside for a little while. It was already dark, and there was basically nothing around. It gets dark so early, and then you’re just stuck there. Food is either in the room or in an uncomfortable hall (I don’t think the photo really captures it). The table hadn’t been cleaned — but the food itself was actually very tasty.

 

 

 

And then my forearms started itching as well: covered in bites! Sandflies… I hadn’t had them on my radar at all.

 

To keep this blog post from ending on such an unhappy note: the next day I moved — on a recommendation from Paul — and ended up in a loving little paradise. Unfortunately, they are fully booked during my tour group’s stay, and I haven’t found any other alternatives. But for the second group we could switch — which is what I then bothered Azo with.

 

When I left the next morning, they were a bit taken aback (I had originally planned for 2–3 nights), and three men spent 15 minutes preparing a bill for one room and one dinner. I had to laugh about that again. In the meantime, I have worked out a strategy for the group.

 

This time, there’s no suspense-creating cliffhanger for the next blog post — just the announcement that things got better.