Babiya’s Anunu: A Slice of Idu Mishmi Life in Arunachal Pradesh
Barely two minutes into our conversation over call, Babiya warned me that her Hindi was quite poor, different, at least, and that we might need Shraddha to step in from time to time. Her hesitancy with language, however, was lost on me, because by the time we were done speaking, she had painted the most vivid picture of the Land of the Dawn-Lit Mountains, or at least, her corner of it.
Babiya Miwu is a member of the Idu Mishmi tribe in Arunachal Pradesh and a self-proclaimed “inverse foodie,” someone who cares less about eating the food she makes, and more about feeding others, sharing recipes passed down by her mother and elders.
She runs a small homestay in Anini, Dibang Valley, a quaint town in Arunachal Pradesh that has recently become known among inquisitive travellers, Shradhha Patel, a native of UP, being one of them. While backpacking across Arunachal Pradesh for months, she ended up at Babiya’s homestay and has been staying there for months. A supporter of TKM, Shradhha wrote to us, asking if an interesting dish that she found in Anini and has had her heart stuck on, could be of interest to us and our readers. Of course, it was.
Hospitality that serves a greater purpose
“My mother and I make all the food for the guests. And it makes me happy to say that these days, people are very curious and open to trying different kinds of food, so I make them our local dishes,” she says. “If I feel the flavours might be too unfamiliar, I adjust the recipe to suit their palate, it becomes a gradual and pleasant introduction to our cuisine. If we make an authentic boil, the fermented bamboo shoot we use might not be everybody’s cup of tea, so we tweak it a bit, add some more familiar masalas,” Babiya shares.
Idu Mishmi’s food culture is quite unlike what someone like me, from literally the opposite geography, might know of or expect.
Their staple ingredients include native red rice varieties, millet (known locally as Etale), lots of corn, bamboo shoots, sweet potatoes, and both fresh and dried fish and meat. Sweet potatoes are commonly eaten as a snack, and bamboo sprouts are added heavily in many dishes.
From the ingredients they use to their methods of cooking, preserving, and storing food, communities in Arunachal Pradesh have long relied on rich, indigenous knowledge systems, many of which remained largely untouched until only a couple of decades ago. But, as with all traditions, this too must change.
She recalls a time when life in Anini was completely self-sustained. “We used to farm with our parents. There were no roads or connectivity, so we used to cook with only what could be grown here,” she says. Back then, corn featured heavily in everyday meals. It would be coarsely ground and made into simple dishes, “a gravy-based curry of sorts,” she explains, “like a local dal preparation. We also made khichdi and soup out of corn.”
Another staple was a local lentil known as andoye, that looks like a smaller rajma bean. “It’s actually a GI-tagged crop that only grows in Anini,” she shares. “We used to eat a lot of that when we were younger.” They also ate a kind of local quinoa, usually paired with traditional red rice.
The challenges of living in such a cold, remote place meant that food had to be preserved creatively. “It gets quite cold here,” Babiya says, “so our moms would dig the ground and bury ingredients like taro and yams to prevent spoilage. For something like pumpkin, if we wanted to eat it fresh, we’d pluck it before the frost set in.”
Wild produce also played an important role. “We collect a lot of bamboo and mushrooms. We dry them and store them for the winter months, when nothing grows.” she says.
Until as recently as 2005, many of today’s everyday ingredients like potatoes and common dals weren’t part of their diet. “Before that, we didn’t consume all this,” she says. This was a common link. Even in Rajasthan. up until three decades ago, rice or wheat were not even known by the natives, let alone consumed. She pauses for a moment when asked how much Anini has changed. “It’s a beautiful place,” she says, “but a lot is changing. The weather especially. Before, by August, our winters would begin, but now, it doesn’t get cold till November.”
Food for the women, by the women
Anunu is the dish that brought Babiya, Shraddha and I together.
A fish-based preparation, Anunu holds a special place in the memories of Idu Mishmi women. Most prominently made during Reh, a ritual festival centred around reunion and gratitude, “anunu is a dish made by women, for women,” Babiya explains. “It’s prepared during Reh, when families invite all their relatives who’ve moved far away, to return home and dine together.” While meats are cooked for the broader feast, traditionally, Idu Mishmi women don’t eat red meat. So Anunu, made with smoked or dried fish, becomes their special dish.
Babiya remembers how exciting it was to prepare for Reh as a child. “We’d eagerly wait for our share of Anunu,” she says. And perhaps the sweetest addition to the dish and story is, “We (babiya and friends) would eat half of our Anunu and take the other half back home. Let’s suppose my mother couldn’t attend Reh, the host family would give me her share to take back. It’s a kind of remembrance. It’s like being told you’re family and you were missed.”
But like many traditions, this one too is facing quiet erosion. “There are certain places where making Anunu for such occasions has completely stopped,” she says. “Even if it is made, it’s with different ingredients and methods, more like a fusion dish than the authentic one.”
Anunu is an act of community. It is prepared collectively by the women of the family, who also cook the entire feast for Reh. And not just Reh, any festival or ritual of importance.
Traditionally, Anunu was made with buckwheat, which gave it a distinct texture and taste. But that, too, has changed. “Buckwheat isn’t easily grown in these areas, it never was easy, but people still put in the effort. These days, since rice is readily available in the market, people don’t grow buckwheat as much. They substitute it with red rice, either a 50-50 mix or just rice alone,” she explains.
But even red rice, once farmed in the region, is no longer as accessible. “Farming as a whole has really reduced,” she says. “Even indigenous red rice varieties are no longer found easily here because people don’t farm them. So we end up using regular rice that comes in from Assam.”
Still, there’s a glimmer of hope. Babiya points out that some younger people, especially those who left the state or the region to study or work and returned, are trying to revive traditional food practices. “They’ve found value in our food systems after leaving. So now, some are beginning to farm again, especially buckwheat, organically, because it’s used in quite a few of our dishes.”
As for the taste of Anunu, Babiya has her preferences. “Chilli flakes, dry bamboo shoots, and ginger, that’s how it was made earlier. Now, people also add fermented bamboo shoots, which brings out a different flavour profile. I prefer the earlier one, and I try to feed my guests that version too.”
Hunting and farming in difficult terrains
Babiya is quick to point out that large-scale farming was never really part of their way of life. “We would plant small patches of produce and harvest them at the right time. It was always done on a small, personal scale.”
She also recalls a time when corn used to be more robust and plentiful. “Before, the corn we sowed would grow bigger and tastier. Now it’s smaller and full of insects,” she explains. The change, she believes, is possibly tied to changes in the ecosystem. “There was a lot of unregulated hunting in one season, and the bird population dropped. Now the worms are all over the crops. The good thing is that people learn and don’t make the same mistake anymore.”
She pauses to point out something important. “The culture here is completely different from the rest of Arunachal Pradesh,” she says. “In our tribe, hunting out of season, or without reason, is considered a sin. If someone does it, they must atone through rituals that last several days.”
The same ethos applies to fishing. There’s a designated season, from February to April, during which fishing is allowed. “After that, we believe the fish go upstream to give birth. Once they return, they can be consumed. It’s just an old practice, but a smart one. It ensures that even with regular fishing, there will always be more fish the next year.”
That said, winter remains a difficult time. “During winters, we sometimes have to hunt birds for survival because produce is so low. The birds in the lower plains and altitudes are hunted out of need, not for sport.”
When asked what dishes she recommends to someone unfamiliar with the cuisine, Shraddha chimes in and without hesitation declares, “Anunu is one dish that I love. Andoye dal and bamboo shoots, those are two of my favourites. Even people with different palates usually find them easy to enjoy. As an outsider, these dishes just stand out to me.”
Recipe for Anunu:
Ingredients:
1 cup smoked or dried fish (local river fish preferred)
1 tbsp dried bamboo shoots
1 tsp ginger (crushed or sliced)
1 tsp chilli flakes (adjust to taste)
1/2 cup buckwheat (traditionally used) or red rice (50-50 mix if substituting)
Salt to taste
Water (as needed)
Instructions:
In a pot, cook the buckwheat or red rice in water with a pinch of salt. Keep it soft but not mushy.
In a large pan or pot, add the dried bamboo shoots, ginger, and chilli flakes. Add enough water to make a stew-like base. Bring to a boil.
Add the fish to the pot and let it simmer in the broth until the flavours meld together (about 5–8 minutes).
Add the cooked buckwheat/red rice to the mixture. Simmer together for another 5–10 minutes so everything binds together gently.
Traditionally, anunu is served in shared portions. It can be enjoyed as a one-pot meal.
