Guwahati: Kaziranga National Park, world-renowned for its one-horned rhinoceros and sweeping floodplains, has long been celebrated as a triumph of wildlife conservation. But a new book is reframing this familiar story, drawing attention to the forgotten human and cultural narratives that shaped the park’s making.
Titled The Mythistory of Kajir Ronghangpi: The Making of Kaziranga National Park, the work highlights how myth, oral traditions, and colonial policy together forged the identity of Kaziranga, now a UNESCO World Heritage Site. At the centre of this retelling is Kajir Ronghangpi, a Karbi woman historically regarded as a “rhinoceros lady,” whose name survives in “Kaziranga” but whose story has long been overshadowed by wildlife narratives.
The edited volume by Dharamsing Teron and Vulli Dhanaraju challenges the dominant portrayal of Kaziranga as an untouched wilderness, presenting it instead as a cultural landscape deeply embedded in Karbi memory. “The myth of Kajir Ronghangpi which inspired the naming of Kaziranga is not just a fabulous story—it has wider implications for Karbi history and conservation,” the authors write.
The book grew out of the international conference Oral Tradition of the Karbis: Memorizing Kajir Ronghangpi—The ‘Rhinoceros Lady’, held in Diphu in July 2023. Organised by the Art & Culture Department of the Karbi Anglong Autonomous Council in association with Assam University, the Centre for Karbi Studies, and Diphu Government College, the event was part of the annual commemoration of the legendary figure on December 5.
A Myth at the Heart of a Landscape
Through indigenous studies, environmental anthropology, and oral history, Teron and Dhanaraju explore how Karbi myths, folktales, and sacred landscapes shape identity and territorial belonging. They argue that the etymology of “Kaziranga” can be traced back to the “mythistory” of Kajir Ronghangpi, whose oral tradition has been honoured, deified, and kept alive in Karbi social memory through songs, rituals, and storytelling.
Kaziranga, they note, is remembered among Karbis as a rongman—literally an “abandoned village” of ancestors who once thrived there before colonial conservation policies dispossessed them over a century ago. This sense of loss, longing, and nostalgia permeates the Karbi imagination of the park.
Kajir Ronghangpi herself is remembered not only as a cultural figure but as a guardian of biodiversity. Oral narratives describe her role in preserving flora and fauna, especially the rhino, long before the area became a sanctuary. “Kaziranga’s biodiversity and ecological traditions remain deeply influenced by Kajir Ronghangpi’s story,” the authors note, though they add that modern pressures—deforestation, sacred groves under threat, climate change, and growing demand for natural resources—have reshaped these relationships.
Contesting Heritage
The book also explores how heritage is constructed through local ecological and cultural values, inseparable from “space” and “time” as defined by communities. These, however, were forcibly altered under colonial and later state-led conservation regimes, which imposed modern territorial boundaries. Against this backdrop, Kajir Ronghangpi’s story offers a vibrant counter-narrative, reaffirming Karbi identity and cultural memory.
The Tourism Department of the Karbi Anglong Autonomous Council has even installed a statue of Kajir Ronghangpi at the Ethnic Village in Kohora near Kaziranga, introducing her story to visitors. The inscription describes her as the daughter of Hok Ronghang, who, after being raised in the abode of gods, returned with divine powers to reconstruct her father’s land in what is now Kaziranga.
Multiple Legends, One Landscape
While the book foregrounds Kajir Ronghangpi, it also acknowledges that the origins of the name “Kaziranga” have been attributed to several other legends. Some historians link it to the Karbi words Kajir-a-rong—“the village of Kajir”—with Kajir being a common female name. Others suggest a derivation from Karjo (wild goat) and Langso (rivulets), evoking a landscape once rich in wildlife.
Folklore abounds with romantic tales too: one tells of a Karbi youth named Kazi who fell in love with Ranga, a village girl from the plains, the forest named after their tragic love. Another story recalls an old couple, Kazi and Rangai, blessed with a child by the saint Sankardev, who dug a pond to mark the occasion. Yet another legend recounts an Ahom king enchanted by fish from a local pond, lending his name to the place.
Amid these varied accounts, Karbi writer Ajit Timung has asserted that Kaziranga was once Karbi territory, its name derived from Kajir Ronghangpi, a powerful woman with “supernatural powers,” fragments of whose monolithic heritage remain scattered in the area.
Reclaiming Memory
By weaving together oral history, myth, and colonial records, The Mythistory of Kajir Ronghangpi offers a critical rethinking of Kaziranga—not just as a sanctuary for rhinos, but as a living cultural landscape shaped by the Karbis. It shows how heritage can be reinvented by reclaiming indigenous narratives often sidelined by official conservation discourse.
In doing so, the book makes a substantial argument: that the name “Kaziranga” itself is inseparable from the memory of Kajir Ronghangpi, the “rhinoceros lady” whose story continues to resonate in Karbi songs, rituals, and imagination.
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