The Brahmaputra River, with its strong masculine name (Son of Brahma) is one of India’s largest and flows from far northeast India south until it passes into Bangladesh, finally emptying into the Bay of Bengal. It provides navigation for boats, irrigation for fields, and yearly flooding during the Monsoon season. We pulled up to the southern shore of the river, needing to cross to Majuli Island, largest river island in the world and site for the annual Raas festival each November. Over the last 100 years, the annual flooding of Majuli’s sandy soil has shrunk the island by two-thirds, losing whole villages. It is disappearing so quickly there are travel stories advising tourists to visit before it disappears but I discovered few travelers have heeded that advice.
I felt the anxiety of our guide and driver as we approached the river’s edge. Lines of cars and hundreds of motorcycles waited to board the few available ferries. For two hours, we inched forward, aware of the fading light, watching helplessly as a line of military cars and officers cut in line. Just as it was our turn to board, another car tried to cut in front of us. Our driver jumped out and yelled fiercely at the cheaters, banging on their car. They finally backed down and we were the last car on. I tried not to think of stories of sinking overloaded ferries.
The boat was jammed with pilgrims bound for the festival. On the main floor, two kerosene lanterns dimply lit the crowded space. Claustrophobia crept in as the night grew darker and I moved to the top of the boat. On the upper deck, my sister-in-law and I realized we were the only women enjoying the night air with a stunning shimmering super moon reflecting the waters of the river. I relaxed for the first time and enjoyed the smooth two-hour ride to the island.
The next day was the first of the festival when the Raas Leela, signifying the unification of the individual soul with the Higher soul of Lord Krishna through unconditional love, is acted out and danced by the entire island’s population, including children. These plays would go through the night. The many satras on the island, or monasteries, were open for lodging and worship by the pilgrims.




Our return across the Brahmaputra River was not as dramatic. The next night was spent in Thengal Manor, a 1929 English country mansion with servants. I felt whiplashed between times – a crazy, rich and intense 24 hours, with a mighty river to unite the cultures. India is filled with such moments.
Mary Walker Clark is a retired attorney turned travel writer. Her stories may be found at her blog, Mary Clark, Traveler and her podcasts at KETR, 88.9. She lives in Paris and may be contacted at maryclarktraveler@gmail.com.