The night it rained in Mechukha, there was only one concern on Nasreen Sultana’s mind. By first light, her fears had come true. The river Yargyap Chu, which had been quiet and clear enough to reveal its stony bed, had turned muddy brown overnight. Along its banks ran a four-kilometre angling trail through the Mechukha valley, from Nezagong in the north to Thargeling in the south. For anglers looking for rainbow and brown trout, the rain had rewritten the river. Every cast and instinct had to be recalculated. “The river has turned erratic,” says Sultana. “Trout are usually found along shallow margins and in calmer pockets. So today, it’s going to be a challenge.”
Sultana was the only woman in a group of 56 anglers from across India and countries including Thailand and Bhutan taking part in Mechukha Trout Quest 2.0, an annual angling championship hosted by the Arunachal Pradesh government. It was also her first time fishing in Mechukha and her first encounter with trout. Accompanied by a marshal, she walks along the riverbank, looking for a gravel bed where the current is slow enough for a trout to settle. She takes out her rod, ties a fisherman’s knot and prepares her line; the clouds hanging low over the lush green Eastern Himalayas. “Let’s begin,” she smiles.
Mechukha has emerged as a destination for anglers drawn to its rivers and trout. The Yargyap Chu, winding through the valley, has become central to the region’s growing angling culture
Over the years, Mechukha has emerged as a destination for anglers drawn to its rivers and trout. The Yargyap Chu, winding through the valley, has become central to the region’s growing angling culture. But the sport comes with rules meant to protect the fish and the river. Traditional fishing has been banned as part of conservation measures, while sport angling follows a catch-and-release principle.
For Sultana, fishing began long before competitive angling. Her earliest memory is of sitting by the pond beside her home in North Lakhimpur, Assam, fishing with her father. Years later, it was her husband, Dushyant Kumar Bora, also an angler, who introduced her to the sport. “We went angling to Uttarakhand for our honeymoon,” she laughs. “And then I got hooked.”
A musician by profession, Sultana found angling as a way to slow down. The sport also took her to rivers she otherwise would never have encountered. “One of the best things about angling is that you get to travel a lot and see these beautiful places,” she says. “It’s a slow game. If you want to test your patience, this is the best sport.”
But the slowness comes with its own challenges. There are insects, difficult terrain and fish that can be surprisingly difficult to catch. In Mechukha, she navigates marshy stretches, while keeping an eye out for leeches and snakes along the trail. But for an angler, the discomfort is part of the experience. “Anglers go through all kinds of trouble,” she says. “But the feeling of catching a fish is something else. It’s heavenly.”
Her favourite is the golden mahseer, often described by anglers as the “tiger of the river”. Even a one- or two-kilogram fish, she says, can put up a formidable fight. She remembers losing one in Tanakpur, Uttarakhand. “When they’re in water, they’re like the king. You can’t be oversmart with them,” she explains. “As a beginner, I tried to trick the fish, and I lost it.”
Over time, angling has also taught Sultana to look at fishing differently. For her, angling and conservation go hand in hand. “You can’t hurt the fish; that’s the fundamental rule of angling,” she says. One lesson, in particular, stayed with her: never kill a fish carrying eggs. “It’s like you’re killing an entire population.”
Competitions bring anglers and visitors to the valley, but they also draw attention to the need to protect the river and its fish. “Farmers and locals have volunteered to protect and conserve the trout of Mechukha,” says Pasang D Sona, Minister of Tourism, Arunachal Pradesh. “These competitions help in recognising their efforts and creating awareness.”
Sultana encourages more women to take up angling, but she often finds herself as the only female angler at competitions. When asked why there are so few women in the sport, she jokes, “perhaps they are beauty conscious”—a reference to spending long hours outdoors, exposed to the sun. But she quickly turns serious. “Angling is often seen as a man’s sport.” That perception, she believes, needs to change. Angling requires patience, observation and an ability to understand the river—qualities that have little to do with gender.
For Sultana, the real prize in Mechukha was not the catch, but the chance to understand the river Yargyap Chu, and leave it better than she found it.
