Kalimpong Calling

Tongba, Chang and the Culture of Drink

The fourth essay from my 2002 book Kalimpong Calling.

There is an anecdote that tipplers in the Darjeeling hills love to recount. When the late Deo Prakash Rai — astute politician and incorrigible drunkard — was labelled just that by his opponents, he countered the charge by accepting it, and from the campaign pulpit exhorted his fellow bibulous brethren to vote for him. Needless to say, he won.

Our local drinkers may not be as famous as, say, Dylan Thomas, but they have been no less colourful. Drinking has, for a variety of reasons, been a major preoccupation of hill folk. From chang to the more elegant ayala, there is a wide range of concoctions different castes offer. Add to this the cosmopolitan taste for brands like Hit and Gold Star, and the repertoire widens.

Recently Time magazine put tongba right up there with Guinness, calling it the singular contribution of the Limbus to civilisation. Whether or not one agrees, credit is due. On one occasion, while guiding a group of American students through the haat bazaar, I realised my pride was restored not by the colourful underwear heaped for sale, but by the sight of marcha and dhungro — the indispensable duo of tongba. The lady at the stall explained their homegrown chemistry with quiet authority.

Folk wisdom adds that the best chang is brewed slowly with low-voltage marcha. “Voltage,” here, is a local borrowing from the practice of using — of all things — batteries to speed up fermentation. There is little in the taste of tongba to reveal the contribution of a dry cell, but the headache the next day makes you wish the Eveready or Nippo had stayed in a torchlight.

Chang is usually “pulled” at joints called addas — the Nepali variant of the Bengali adda, associated with more compelling beverages than tea. The conversations, however, are no less intellectual and eclectic. Tongba, though, is not the impatient alcoholic’s choice. For those, there is always raxi, the throat-scorching spirit that burns quickly but does its job. Tongba requires time, patience, and firelight. You sip warm water through the grains, while talking, praying, or playing cards.

The adventurous may even sample the maggots. Though not covered by Time, the white worms found in prized over-fermented millet can pack quite a punch. Dissolved in water, a single worm has been known to subdue even hardened tongba fanatics.

There is much more left unsaid: the influence of tongba in literature and the arts, the rhododendron raxi of Sandakphu, and more. But those belong to future essays.