In Assam, history is not confined to brittle pages or ancient temples or monuments or ruins or in remarkable museums —it breathes through bamboo groves, elder voices, and the still waters of lakes and ponds. As recorded by the Department of Environment & Forests, Assam has over 1.85 lakh tanks and ponds known as pukhuris—sacred reservoirs derived from the Sanskrit pushkarni. These are more than water bodies; they are repositories of collective memory. In Sivasagar, the former capital of the Ahom dynasty, the waters of Borpukhuri, Joysagar, Gaurisagar, Na-Pukhuri, and myriad other ponds cradle stories as profound as the ocean and as sacred as ancient shrines.
In little-known Patsaku—70 km from Dibrugarh Airport and 25 km to the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Royal Ahom Moidams of Charaideo—the breath is strong. This serene village is a living heritage that enchants, inviting you to listen and feel. The legacy of the Tai Ahoms, who once ruled these lands, lives on in the gentle rituals of daily life. Its thirteen ancient pukhuris, many from the Ahom era and burial mounds, lie cradled in silence. At dusk, elders gather by the waters, spinning stories across generations. Ancient hymns float through the air, while in humble homes, age-old Xasi Pat manuscripts—inked on agar bark—are preserved like living heirlooms, reflecting a people rooted in land and lore.
At its heart is the Central Tai Academy, where the ancient Tai Ahom script finds its voice. A local storyteller guides you through legends, after which you share a traditional Ahom meal, served beside one of the pukhuris. Among them, Bukuronga Pukhuri gleams with a powerful story—not found in State archives but in the memories of elders. It is said that in the 14th or 15th century, three brothers—Nahor, Bukuronga, and Petpuha—were raised by their grandmother while their parents served the Ahom royals. When oil tainted the village’s water and illness spread, she had a vision, she instructed Bukuronga to light three clay lamps and dig where the last extinguishes. So, sixteen men dug, and in three days, a healing pond emerged. Bukuronga, landless but relentless, would later even invent a method to plough a bigha in a day with twenty ploughs. Today, this pond, like the man, stands not in grandeur, but in quiet strength. Bukuronga left behind no palace, no crown: only a living legacy of innovation.
In the Ahom era, pukhuri construction was a sacred science, steeped in ritual and reverence. Under a moonless sky, the Deodhai priest and Changrung Phukan – Royal Chief of Civil Constructions lit clay lamps in a ritual grid. Where flames died, the Maticheleka tasted the soil, sensing hidden springs. The final extinguished lamp revealed the Navisthan—the earth’s navel, believed to yield the purest water. Only then did sacred digging begin, complete with step-work, damming, and purification rites. Once complete, the King offered prayers and gifts, dedicating the pukhuri to the people.
Today, like Umbul Ponggok in Indonesia, where a pond powers tourism and the local economy, Assam too can gently awaken its pukhuris—with bamboo cafes, floating markets, eco-walks, moonlit folk songs, or youth-led snorkeling. Guided by limnologists and cultural experts, ‘Pukhuri Tourism’ can thrive while protecting nature and tradition.
