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My journey to Tripura was a bit of an after-thought, an accident in a sense. After journeying 7000 km on a motorcycle around India I arrived in Calcutta. From here my plan was to travel North East. My interest in unique tribal cultures was steering me towards the predominantly tribal states of Nagaland and Arunachal Pradesh. But my idea was thrown out the window after I was confronted with the fact that I would not be able to visit the areas without a group tour, which is not really my thing to say the least. 

I decided instead to go to Tripura – a remote North East Indian State which I knew very little about and on which information was very sparse. The one thing I did know was that Tripura is home to the Reang people, a distinct tribal group that had captured my imagination since I saw some obscure photos of them in a tourist brochure. The images and the “unknown” factor were enough to lure me in. I loaded my motorcycle onto the train at the Howrah Station (Calcutta) and set off for Guwahatti - the capital of Assam and the closest railway point to Tripura.

After a thirty-plus hour train ride and a couple days rest in the smoggy, uninspiring Guwahati I was off again, this time on a two-day motorcycle journey to Tripura. To get there I would need to travel around 350km and pass through Assam and the serpentine hill roads of Meghalaya.

Not knowing exactly where I wanted to go, or where I would find Reang people who still lived relatively traditional lives I stopped at every possible point of information. India may be known as a country of contrasts and differences, but to me the one common factor was the very warm, hospitable and helpful nature of the people, no matter where I went. The government run “India Tourism” offices were helpful to a point of shocking me, albeit pleasantly. In an office at Shillong, Meghalaya one senior tourism official, a Tripura native himself put me in touch with a director of an anthropological museum in Tripura. Over the phone I was advised where I could encounter Reang Tribal culture still intact, not significantly reshaped by globalization and modernity.

I must say at this point that most of Tripura lacks any real tourist infrastructure. It seems that the authorities are trying to promote its attractions, but it is still very ‘wild’ and remote. Some may cringe at the idea of zero-luxury, non-air-con rooms, bucket showers, squat toilets and lizard and roach roommates. To me it was the ideal destination, little development most often means little destruction to the native population and native customs and that was what I searched for.

After a spectacular ride through the hill ranges of Meghalaya and the tea plantations of Assam I finally arrived in Tripura. I arranged a meeting with the local “district collector” (an Indian equivalent to a district Mayor) in a small town which I later learned was the district capital. My final destination would be Kanchanpur - an even smaller town which was surrounded by settlements and villages of the Reang people. Here I made my base.

On my first night in Kanchanpur through chance and luck, I met a young Bengali man (a steady influx of Bengali migrants now makes them one of the majority groups in the state) who spoke very good English. He was genuine, friendly and offered me his help, if I needed any. I think he was slightly surprised when I accepted the offer and told him about my quest, to photograph the Reang Tribals in the Kanchanpur area.

The next day we were on the motorcycle and off to some surrounding villages, comprised of traditional bamboo huts with thatched roofs. Not long into the journey I found out just how lucky I was to meet the young man. Bibash was a local shop-keeper; tribal people from all around the area would come to his shop for purchases and endless talks. He had friends in every village and understood a few tribal languages, a skill incredibly useful in an area where Hindi and Bengali were not necessarily understood. Through Bibash I was able to communicate with the people I photographed, I could tell them about myself and my purpose. Funnily enough they were just as interested in me as I was in them. We would ask each other numerous questions to satisfy our curiosity.

For the next 6 days Bibash and I did much of the same, after he would finish his work at the shop we’d hop on the bike to visit a new village. We passed through some of the most horrid “roads” (if they can indeed be considered roads). The scenery was always spectacular; rolling hills, jungle vegetation and traditional villages were all around. It was the perfect journey, with the necessary element of adventure and the great privilege of seeing a unique tribal culture on the verge of extinction.

These images are the result of my search; they would not be possible without Bibash, who became my friend in a very short span of time. I hope that at least in some way my photos can reflect the special atmosphere of the places and the people I’ve encountered.

Mitchell Kanashkevich is a filmmaker/photographer who has worked primarily in Hong Kong, Laos, Thailand, India, and Belarus since he graduated from Sydney University in 2003 with a film studies major. More of Mitchell's work can be seen at www.mitchellkimages.com