The tribal ink

Reporter: Dhritiman Ray
Photographer: Photo Courtesy
Moranngam Khaling
February 15, 2013
Caption: Mo’s professional tattooing
machine, his tool of discovery. Mo feels
that people from the Northeast have a
passion for tattoos, but lack the right
approach. Some still use bamboo thorns
to pierce their skin, which spoils the
texture and gives them ugly tattoos
Even a century ago, the Konyak tribe of
Nagaland inspired dread. These short
men, with tanned skin, dressed in
loincloth, looked naive when they farmed
but transformed into killing machines at
war. Armed with Dha (a kind of machete)
and spears, they used to mercilessly hack
down enemy tribes to death. But more
than their combat skills, it was their after-
war ceremonies that intimidated many. A
Konyak Naga would chop off the enemy’s
head and hang it by his spear to
demonstrate his prowess. It earned him a
place among the clan as a warrior — and
his face was tattooed to induct him into
the ranks.
Soon after Independence, the primitive
practice of ‘headhunting’ was banned.
Most of the Naga tribes, by now starving
and affected by the plague, were baptised
into Christianity. And with it, the
headhunting tattoo trail went cold. Most
of the fabled tattoo art of India’s ancient
tribes — the Konyaks and Angamis of
Nagaland, the Mers and Rabaris from
Gujarat and the Korathis of Karnataka —
has long been lost in history. But
MoranngamKhaling, a 27-year-old
Manipuri, has taken it upon himself to
explore and preserve India’s rich tribal
ink.
Famed among tattoo fanatics as Mo, this
fashion designer turned professional
tattoo artist — with a degree from
National Institute of Fashion Technology
(NIFT), Hyderabad — opened his maiden
tattoo school in the Northeast with a
vision to conserve and promote tribal
tattoo ensigns. “Our primitive tribes have
a rich tattoo heritage, much like the Red
Indians of America and the Maoris of New
Zealand. But we know nothing about it,”
complains Mo. What irks him more is that
youth in India today are more interested
in old-school American and Chinese
designs, ignoring their own indigenous
motifs. “Some also come in for Yakuza
tattoos, which are emblems of Japanese
mafia gangs,” he adds.
Mo vows to change all that. So, after
honing his skills for seven years in
Hyderabad and Delhi, he has come up
with the Headhunter’s Ink Tattoo School
in Guwahati. He feels that the remote
Northeasternstates have a passion for
needles, but lack the right approach.
“People here still use bamboo thorns to
pierce their skin, which spoils the entire
exhibit and gives them ugly tattoos,” he
says. An ardent student of the needle art,
Mo’s research had been confined to
online reading material and several books
all these years. This time, he wants to
visit the tribes, collect their ancient
motifs and work on them.
Each country has its own brand of
tattooing. The Chinese have their Dragon
and Yin-Yangs, the Kiwis have Maoris and
the Americans have Eagles, Old-School
and Pin-Up (tattoos of beautiful women)
designs. Mo promptly comes up with
their corresponding Indian counterparts
— “We have hornbills for the Eagles,
peacocks for the Dragons and Khajuraho
artefacts for the Pin-Ups.” He adds,
“Indian designs, like that of Lord Shiva
and Ganesha, are becoming increasingly
popular in the West. Here, the absence of
awareness makes us fall back.”
Among the first clients to get the Naga
headhunters’ design made on their skin
were a British couple, James Paul Smith
and Hannah Hatt, who toured the
province last December to be part of the
Hornbill Festival. “When we toured
Malaysia two years ago, we regretted not
getting a headhunter’s tattoo done. We
heard about Mo while travelling to
Nagaland and I was really keen on getting
it done,” Smith says. The couple had no
idea about the tattoo
culture in India before their tour, but was
amazed by Mo’s efforts to save the ethnic
designs. “It would be a terrible shame if a
strong culture like this is lost forever,”
Smith feels.
Mo faces a tremendous challenge as he
moulds age-old symbols for modern skin.
The ancient headhunting motifs that
cannot be inked on the faces need to be
reworked for the limbs; the V-shaped
designs drawn on the chests of the Naga
warriors need more colours today.
Similarly, the legendary Khajuraho
sculptures need to be portrayed in a
more ‘tattooable’ form. Mo’s school is
barely a month old, but has already
sparked interest among the faithful.
Wannabe tattoo artists from Delhi,
Mumbai and Chandigarh are already
enrolling in the 800-sq ft school that
promises state-of-the-art training
facilities.
KumudBalyan, a 28-year-old textile-
industry graduate from Delhi, is one such
enthusiast. “Mo was my senior in college
and I always wanted to learn from him.
So, when I came to know about his
school, I didn’t waste time,” he says.
Even trained artists from Mumbai are
willing to learn the tribal art. The school
falls in line with Mo’s vision of promoting
the near-extinct tattoo art of the
Northeast.
Local enthusiasts travel to Delhi to learn
the skills, where it is a big industry.
“Delhi is home to over 300 professionals.
But the courses are expensive, making it
difficult for Northeasternpeople,” says the
artist whose studio in Delhi,
Headhunter’s Ink, is one of the hot spots
for tattoo lovers. Back in Guwahati, the
school’s courses offer an exhaustive
insight into the artwork’s various forms,
which have spread across continents. Mo
plans to support aspiring artists all the
way by helping them set their own
studios once they are ready.
The symbolism may remain, but the
reasons for tattooing have changed over
the years. What once denoted
regimentation, sacred ritual or act of
valour, has now become a purely personal
form of expression. For artists like Mo,
tattoos are about “understanding one’s
culture, body aesthetics and the art”. An
old tattoo saying explains it all “Show me
a man with a tattoo, and I will show you a
man with an interesting story.”