Wangala Festival: Drums, Dance, and Divine Gratitude
The vibrant celebrations of the Wangala Festival, the Garo tribe’s iconic harvest festival in Meghalaya. Explore the dance, drums, and cultural significance of this annual event dedicated to the Sun God, Sanljong.
There’s something about the sound of 100 drums echoing across a sun-dappled valley that tugs the memory strings just so. Stumbling upon an article in The Shillong Times about the 48th Hundred Drums Wangala Festival sent me careening back to 2016, when I found myself wandering the lush contours of Tainang village in the South Garo Hills, immersing myself in the Garo way of life. Every festival, it seemed, was woven with the threads of nature – a tapestry celebrating the earth’s cycles, her bounty, and, rather poetically, our place within it.
The Wangala Festival – often dubbed “the Festival of a Hundred Drums” – is perhaps the Garo community’s most captivating celebration. It’s a post-harvest jamboree of sorts, thanking the Sun God, known as Sanljong, for his generosity and blessings. For two days, sometimes even stretching to a week, the Garo people pour their spirits into this festivity with boundless enthusiasm. The festival sees offerings made to Sanljong with local rice beer, and the air thickens with the scent of incense, the vibrant hum of drums, and the dazzle of colourful attire.
One of the festival’s highlights is the traditional dance – an exercise in rhythm, vibrancy, and symmetry. The dance itself follows an engaging pattern: two parallel lines form, men on one side, women on the other, moving in synchrony to the pulse of a hundred drums. It’s like clockwork choreography with a spirit that’s anything but mechanical. Each beat is a call to tradition, a nod to the past, and a celebration of the present.
The origins of the Wangala Festival, or so the local lore goes, trace back to ancient times when, curiously, it wasn’t people who first performed the Wangala dance but water creatures! Legend has it that crabs – yes, crabs – were the original bearers of these rhythmic moves, and it was they who taught humans the dance. So, if you notice a certain sideways sway in the dancers, you’ll know where it comes from – a rather charming nod to their aquatic teachers.
The first recorded Wangala dance performance took place on the 6th and 7th of December, 1976, at Asanang, a picturesque spot about 18 kilometres from Tura. However speaking to the locals I found that this is a tradition which they have been following since ages. Whenever is the origin this Hundred Drums Festival has been an annual affair, growing in scale and splendour, becoming not just a festival but a cultural monument of sorts. Each year, the festival reinforces the Garos’ devotion to Sanljong and offers a spirited farewell to the harvest season. It’s a reminder of the tribe’s harmonious bond with the seasons, nature, and each other – a bond that the Wangala Festival celebrates with a joyful burst of drums, dance, and devotion.
For the Garos, this isn’t merely a show. It’s a means of preserving their cultural identity, a way of staying rooted even as the world around them changes. The festival doesn’t just pay homage to their traditions; it presents them to the world, inviting others to witness and respect a way of life that treasures nature’s bounty, the warmth of community, and the cycle of the seasons.
In this fast-paced, ever-modernising world, the Hundred Drums Wangala Festival is a gentle reminder to hold on to the echoes of tradition. Each drumbeat resonates with the stories of generations, the pride of the Garos, and the undying gratitude to the Sun who, year after year, fuels the harvest and feeds the spirit. If you ever get the chance, listen closely – those hundred drums have a story to tell.
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