High up in the Ziro Valley of Arunachal Pradesh, the Apatani tribe has spent generations cultivating paddy in the mountains. Every July, before the paddy has fully ripened, the Apatanis pause their labour to celebrate Dree, a festival that asks the gods to keep pests, disease and hunger away from their fields and homes. 

The legend of the Dree Festival starts with Abotani, the mythical first ancestor of the Apatani tribe. When Abotani and his people first began cultivating the fertile land of Ipyo Supun, their fields were overrun by insects and pests. On the advice of his elders, Abotani chose two priests, Changu Mitu and Dogu Miser, to perform the Dree rites and call upon the gods for help. 

The priests first appealed to Diirii Paro and Yarii Aki, spirits invoked to devour the pests plaguing the fields. Between them, they cleared out a great many insects, but some had already burrowed underground, out of reach. So, the priests turned to the Sky God, Yapung Uyi, asking for rain to flush the rest out into the open. When even that was not enough, they finally called upon the gid, Tamu, who rid the fields of every last pest.  

That year, the paddy grew tall and healthy, and the harvest was bountiful. Grateful and relieved, Abotani vowed that he and his descendants would perform these rites every year so that his people would never again face such scarcity. That promise continues as the Apatanis observe the Dree festival to this day. 

Over time, the single rite grew into four, each addressing a different threat to survival. The Apatanis pray to Tamu to ward off insects and pests, to Metii who guards against epidemics and illness, and to Meder who purifies the fields of anything inauspicious.  Mepin is invoked to bless the crops and ensure the wellbeing of the people. In 1967, when the festival was reorganised, Danyi, the sun-and-moon deity central to Apatani faith, was added as a fifth God invoked for fertile soil, healthy livestock and general prosperity. 

For most of its history, the Dree Festival was celebrated separately by each Apatani village, on whatever date suited its priests and elders. That changed in 1967, when a group of Apatani students felt their community needed one festival that everybody could celebrate together. The festival was chosen to be observed centrally, with 5th July fixed as the main day of celebration. Village-level rituals are still conducted the evening before and priests from every village then bring their offerings together at the shared festival ground of Nenchalya, near the town of Old Ziro. 

On the appointed day, priests and their assistants dress as warriors and sit atop the lapang, a raised wooden platform, reciting the Dree Barnii, which are incantations that can last an entire day. Once the chanting is done, they carry the sacrificial fowls, eggs and animals, along with a ceremonial bamboo structure called the yuygyang, to a sacrificial ground usually located near a river, where the offerings are made to the gods. 

The festival’s warmth lies in its community rituals as much as its sacred ones. Every household brews rice beer for the occasion, and women fill vessels of it for their elder brothers, sisters and sons-in-law as a gesture of love, receiving roasted mithun meat or bacon in return. Cucumber and yatang, a rice pudding steamed in bamboo, are shared among everyone present. Running through the celebrations is the Daminda, a folk dance and song performed by Apatani women in traditional white and red attire, who move together in long, linked lines. Its verses welcome the gods to the festival, recount the history and geography of the Apatani people, and even retell the love stories of ancestors. 

Alongside the dancing, the festival also makes room for play and skill: young men compete in iisan, a traditional high jump, and giibii, a form of wrestling, while the elders showcase their knowledge through competitions. After the festivities, the community observes a taboo period of several days, during which fieldwork, and even the gathering of firewood or vegetables, is avoided, a pause that is believed to protect the success of the rituals just performed. 

Nearly six decades after it became a shared celebration, the Dree Festival remains rooted in the same hope that first sent Abotani’s priests into the fields: that with the blessings of the gods, the harvest will be plentiful, and the community will be safe.

Read more stories on Indian Mythology, Folklore and Culture at our very own ACK Comics App. 

The post The Dree Festival: Harvests of the Apatani Tribe appeared first on Amar Chitra Katha.

When dark clouds gather and the first drops kiss the earth, nature begins its grand symphony. The wind whistles, thunder rumbles, and in homes, temples, and concert halls, a voice rises in song. In India, the monsoon is not only heard, seen or felt but also sung. 

Music and the Seasons 

In Indian classical music, a raga is more than just a melody. It is a living form with its own mood, time of day, and even season. Ancient texts like the Natya Shastra and the Sangita Ratnakara describe how music mirrors the rhythms of nature—sunrise and dusk, summer heat and winter chill, and the cool showers of Varsha Ritu. For centuries, musicians have turned to special ragas to welcome the rains, believing their music could not only celebrate the season, but even invite it. 

Carnatic Voices of Rain 

In Carnatic music, no raga is more closely linked to rain than Amrithavarshini, which means ‘the shower of nectar’. Legend tells us that the great composer Muthuswami Dikshitar once sang his composition Anandamrutakarshini in this raga at Ettayapuram in Tamil Nadu during a drought, and rain followed soon after. With its bright pentatonic notes that sparkle like falling drops, Amrithavarshini continues to be sung during the monsoon, carrying with it the aura of this miracle.

Some traditions even connect ragas to deities. Just as Amrithavarshini evokes joy and abundance, ragas like Varunapriya are linked to Varuna, the Vedic god of rain and water (who is often compared to the Puranic Lord Vishnu). Music, myth, and nature flow into one another seamlessly. 

Hindustani Ragas of Monsoon 

In the Hindustani tradition too, the monsoon has inspired some of the most beloved ragas. Megh, with its deep, resonant notes, is said to echo the rumble of monsoon clouds. Miyan ki Malhar, attributed to Tansen, carries the drama of storms and sudden showers. Desh, soft and lyrical, feels like gentle rain on a quiet evening. These ragas are often performed during the rains, their swells and pauses mirroring the rhythm of downpours and the freshness of wet earth. 

Regional Flavours of Rain Songs 

Across India, the rains are welcomed in many different musical voices. In Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, women sing Kajris which are playful, yearning songs that capture the beauty of dark clouds and the ache of separation. In Bengal, the monsoon finds its voice in Rabindra Sangeet, where Tagore’s melodies weave rain with love and devotion. In Maharashtra, folk traditions like Ovis and Lavanis bring out the rhythm of village life in the wet season, while in Kerala, temple courtyards come alive with folksongs that celebrate Varsha Ritu as a time of renewal. From the banks of the Ganga to the backwaters of the South, the rains become a reason to sing, each region adding its own colour to the music of the monsoon. 

Echoes Across the World – Western Musical Parallels

While Indian ragas are closely tied to seasons and moods, Western classical music also paints nature in sound, though with different methods. Composers there often use ‘tone painting’, shaping rhythm, harmony, and orchestration to mirror the world outside. Antonio Vivaldi’s famous concerto The Four Seasons captures a summer storm with rapid violin strokes and dramatic chords, much like a monsoon cloudburst. Later, Impressionist composers such as Claude Debussy created musical ‘weather’ with flowing, unpredictable scales and rhythms that evoke rain, wind, or waves. Unlike ragas, which are bound to specific times and seasons, Western music tends to suggest nature through mood and metaphor. Yet, across cultures, music and rain have always danced together.

The Rain in Our Hearts 

What is it about a raga that makes the rains feel so near? Perhaps it is because the monsoon in India is more than just weather. It is relief after heat, joy after waiting, and hope for abundance. Indian classical music transforms this anticipation into melody, carrying the rhythm of falling rain and the fragrance of the earth within its notes.

Perhaps we are always waiting for the rain; a cathartic flow of emotions, a much-needed respite. Our ragas give voice to these feelings. They don’t just describe the rain. They become the rain.  

To read more stories and comics , download our ACKComics App.

The post Monsoon Ragas: How Indian Classical Music Welcomes the Rain appeared first on Amar Chitra Katha.

Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj is well-known as the founder of the Maratha Empire, but what of the other leaders who continued his legacy? After Shivaji Maharaj, it was his oldest son – Chhatrapati Sambhaji – who went on to expand his father’s empire, becoming one of the most formidable Maratha leaders. 

Read more about the brave warriors in Indian history here

The Prince’s Childhood

Sambhaji was born in 1657, two years after which, his mother passed away. He was sent to live in Amber as a political hostage at the age of nine. Young Sambhaji’s mettle would be tested even further, when he and his father were invited to visit the court of Mughal Emperor, Aurangzeb, in Agra. Under the guise of friendship, the two were trapped and kept under house arrest. Stories abound that when Aurangzeb asked the young prince if he was scared of him, Sambhaji replied, “I fear no one – people fear me.” 

Cleverly, Shivaji Maharaj managed to escape from Agra with his son, smuggled in boxes meant to contain fruits. Then, Sambhaji was handed over to allies in Mathura while his father undertook the treacherous journey back home to Rajgad on his own. There, Shivaji spread rumours that the prince had died on the way home and even performed his last rites. When the Mughals were convinced that the prince was dead and stopped looking for him, Sambhaji travelled back hundreds of miles on foot with his father’s friends, finally making it back to his family. 

Read more about the brave warriors in Indian history here

An Eventful Youth

Through his teenage years, Sambhaji successfully conducted political negotiations with the English and was involved in several court judgements. He was a good warrior who successfully ran a major military campaign in Hubli, and was said to have defeated a lion with his bare hands in defence of one of his men! Despite all this, he was sometimes reckless like young men often are. His behaviour once led Shivaji to send him away from the capital. Disgruntled, Sambhaji went to stay with Diler Khan, a Mughal commander, until they set out to capture Panhala. Witnessing Khan’s butchering of the gentry, both Hindu and Muslim, in the town of Tikota, opened Sambhaji’s eyes to Khan’s cruelty. Fearing for his own safety, he eventually fled and returned home after almost a year away. Back at the Maratha court, Shivaji’s second wife, Soyrabai, had used Sambhaji’s absence to promote her young son, Rajaram, and installed him on the throne after Chhatrapati Shivaji’s death in 1680. It wasn’t until 1681 that Sambhaji was able to overthrow him and take his rightful place on the throne. 

A Just Ruler

Sambhaji would go on to promote his father’s ideal of Swarajya or self-rule through his campaigns against Aurangzeb and European invaders. This was the same ideal that inspired him to create systems of justice that empowered his subjects. While he is well-known as a champion of Hinduism, due to his efforts to promote Maratha Hindu sovereignty and culture, Sambhaji firmly believed in tolerance and distributed grants to sacred places from all religions. When drought struck the region during the early years of his rule, he built new irrigation systems and distributed food and land to landless farmers. He even pardoned those who had fled due to their inability to pay taxes, and encouraged them to return and increase cultivation. 

As a poet and musician himself, Sambhaji Maharaj was a big patron of the arts. His court was a melting pot of scholars, artists, and performers invited from all over India. A poet friend inspired in him a love of languages, and it is believed that the king spoke several fluently – including Marathi, Sanskrit, Hindi, Persian, English, and Portuguese – a talent that he deployed to great political success. He even wrote a treatise in Sanskrit, Budhbhushanam, a work on politics and military defence for the benefit of future kings. 

Read more about the brave warriors in Indian history here

A Call to War

Chhatrapati Shivaji’s death unfortunately brought about the end of the relatively stable relations with the Mughals and other regional powers. Sambhaji Maharaj took the throne and ultimately spent the rest of his life expanding and defending the Maratha Empire. To start with, he developed the navy his father had created, and brokered deals with the English to obtain weapons. When the Portuguese implemented forced conversions and destroyed Hindu temples in Goa, he fought back and conquered large parts of the Konkan coast, gaining control of many valuable ports. 

Recognising the threat the Marathas posed to the Mughal Empire, Aurangzeb left Delhi and marched towards the Deccan. Sambhaji successfully defended his kingdom for nine years until he was betrayed by Soyrabai and her supporters, and captured by Aurangzeb. When he refused Aurangzeb’s orders to accept him as his sovereign ruler and convert to Islam, Sambhaji Maharaj was brutally tortured and killed. 

While Rajaram was placed on the throne immediately after his death, Chhatrapati Sambhaji’s sacrifice allowed the Maratha Empire to survive independently as a stronghold in Central India, away from Aurangzeb’s conquests. The Maharaj, fondly referred to as chaava or lion cub, remains respected till date, for the care he showed his people and the sacrifices he made to safeguard their freedom. 

Read more about the brave warriors in Indian history here

The post Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj appeared first on Amar Chitra Katha.

Shivaji Bhonsale I, famously known as Chhatrapati Shivaji, was responsible for the strong foundation of the Maratha Empire in the 17th century. During his lifetime, he encountered some courageous men and women, who made a huge impact on him with their bravery and conviction and earned his respect and admiration. Here are the stories of two such women. 

Hira, the milkmaid

The unexpected discovery

Hira was a milkmaid living in a village situated at the foothill of Raigadh, the capital of Chhatrapati Shivaji, with her son and her mother-in-law. Every day, she would go to Raigadh in the morning and the evening to sell milk to the people in the fort. After completing her work, she would return to her home by sunset to spend time with her child. One day, Hira stopped to watch the celebrations of the Kojagiri festival after her daily rounds. However, she got so immersed in the merry-making that she lost count of the hours. Soon, the main doors of the fort were closed after six in the evening and Hira realised this too late. Unfortunately, she was also stopped by the guards when she tried to leave the fort. Hira didn’t want to spend the night away from her son and so, she started looking for a way out. When she reached the eastern side of the fort, she saw a short, unguarded wall. She clambered up to the wall and slithered down the other side. When she started climbing down the hill, she realized that the path was very steep. She managed to steady herself and reached the base, which led to her village. The following morning the guards were shocked to see Hira entering the fort. Hira then told them about the unguarded eastern side. 

The formation of Hira-Burz

When the guards told Shivaji about this incident, he asked Hira to show him the wall. Then, Shivaji asked her to climb down using the same route as she did last night. Though Hira clambered up to the wall, she was terrified looking at the steep slope of the hill. Surprised, Shivaji asked Hira how she performed the feat the previous night if she was so afraid. She explained to Shivaji that her mind was only occupied with the thought of her son and so, she did not mind the tough climb down. Shivaji was impressed with her bravery and determination. He asked his guards to increase the height of the wall and also built the watch tower Hira-Burz, named after Hira. 

The Rani of Belavadi 

The desire for freedom

In 1677,  Isha Prabhu, the Desai of Belavadi, received a message from Dadaji Raghunath Nedkar, one of Shivaji’s able commanders. Dadaji, in his message to Desai, asked him to swear allegiance to Shivaji, in exchange for his protection. Isha Prabhu politely declined the offer insisting that he would like to remain free irrespective of his respect for Shivaji. Soon, Dadaji laid siege to Belavadi but the brave soldiers of Belavadi foiled every attempt made by Dadaji, to scale the fort, for one month. Finally, a new strategy was put in place. A Maratha soldier steadily scaled the wall of the fort and set fire to the place where the hay for the horses was stacked. When the guards were distracted by the fire, the Maratha opened the gate for his soldiers to enter. Though shocked by the sudden events, Isha Prabhu and his soldiers fought so fiercely with the Maratha soldiers that they were compelled to retreat. The Marathas were driven out of the fort but Isha Prabhu died, succumbing to the injuries caused during the fight. 

The unconquered sovereign

Following the sudden demise of her husband, Savitribai, the Rani of Belavadi, also known as Mallamma, decided to break the siege to get access to supplies. Inspired by her courage, the men of Belavadi accompanied her in the fight. The Rani of Belavadi fought vigorously and inspired the soldiers to do the same. Unfortunately, she was struck from behind and her sword flew off. Though she was disarmed and surrounded by the Marathas, she extracted a promise from Dadaji that he would cause no harm to the people of Belavadi. When Shivaji was informed about the fall of Belavadi, he ordered Dadaji to bring the queen before him. When she entered the camp, Shivaji humbly stood up to receive her. He bowed in reverence and said that he cannot give her her freedom back as she had never lost it and assured her that Belavadi would remain free. In the end, Shivaji requested her to forgive him for the death of her husband. Her bitterness towards him dispelled by his kind words made the Rani of Belavadi forgive Shivaji and she blessed him wholeheartedly.

The post Hira and Savitribai: Women Who Inspired Chhatrapati Shivaji appeared first on Amar Chitra Katha.