Hornbill - Nagaland through a window. And a door.

You hear three kinds of stories in Nagaland. The war stories: Bloody events of the World War II pithily documented in bullet points put up on flex boards in the war museum. Or easily conjure up your own heartbreaking ones from the evocative epitaphs in the war cemetery right in the centre of capital Kohima (‘Leslie, As long as life and memory last, I will always remember you. Dad’). There are the underground – or ‘UG’ as the locals say – stories: Stories of gentle extortion narrated with a benevolent helplessness. And there are the valiant, mythological ones which have become folklore. The last of these is usually the source of the names of villages, mountains or festivals. The Nagas not just have stories for every bend, they love sharing them too. A conversation with a local will hardly be bereft of some anecdote about the cunning Apvuho or reference to the heroic Pulie. As much as they are proud of their imaginative pedigrees, they are also revel in being perfectly hospitable to the point that a happy guest is considered nothing short of a respectable asset, which will increase your station among neighbours and friends.