The unseasonal warmth of late spring was a sharp reminder of climate change as I set out with friends for Susunia Pahar in Bankura, West Bengal. At the foothill, we joined a gathering of Adivasis, mostly Santhals, who voiced concern over losing their ancestral traditions. Their ways, once rooted in forest and field, are now neglected and often forgotten.

I first heard here of Adivasi Bhabna—“Adivasi Mind”—a movement to reclaim indigenous heritage. Anthropologist Kanchan Mukherjee spoke of creating a centre to house artefacts, songs, dances, stories, and language, while serving as a library and archive. His vision was echoed by many: Santhals, members of other tribes, and even outsiders like us, all reflecting on what must be done to protect memory and pride and make their culture a way of life. The meeting felt less like a seminar and more like a collective brainstorming for survival.

The next morning, the Santhals performed their age-old rituals of nature worship. Songs rang through the forest, bodies moved in rhythm, and offerings of stones, leaves, and fruits were laid out in reverence to the natural world. Their animist faith, alive in every gesture, was humbling to witness. Yet unease crept in when a priest appeared draped in a shawl emblazoned with Ram’s name—an unsettling reminder of traditions giving way to outside influence.

As we left, I felt both encouraged and unsettled: encouraged that the community is questioning its present, unsettled by what may still be lost. Susunia itself lingered in memory—the lush forests that form an elephant corridor, the rugged rocks loved by climbers, and on the hill, faint Buddhist edicts carved centuries ago, silent witnesses to changing faiths and fading time.

This journey was more than a scenic excursion. It was an encounter with resilience, with a people determined to remember who they are.

Ronodeb Paul is a documentary filmmaker based in Kolkata who loves to focus on people’s lives, histories, and untold stories.