Dzuleke: Into the Mist and Beyond
Our journey to Dzuleke began in Dimapur, and from the very first mile, Nagaland overturned all our assumptions. We had pictured rugged, uneven terrain, yet we found ourselves gliding over smooth tarmac framed by lush green hills. The roadside vegetation seemed to lean in gently, as if guiding us deeper into its world. Everywhere we looked, the landscape was bursting with color bright red wild poinsettias glowing against the slopes, and delicate cherry blossoms scattered across the hillsides, softening the scenery with their pale pink haze. It felt as though nature had put on its most festive attire to welcome us. Some patches of the hills are adorned with the golden-yellow blooms of the Japanese Sunflower (Tithonia diversifolia).
The Pineapple Interlude
Before the cool hills embraced us, the road offered one unforgettable treat.
I remembered a scene in The Family Man 3, where JK enthusiastically praised Nagaland’s pineapples. Never did I imagine that I would one day pause on the same land for the very fruit he was praising so much.
When our group leader, Vikho, announced a “pineapple break,” I instantly understood JK’s passion.
The Queen variety we tasted was extraordinary sweeter, juicier, and far gentler on the tongue than the pineapples we’re used to. No sting, no acidity. Just golden, mellow sweetness.
At ₹50 per kg, it felt like a small luxury gifted by the land.
About an hour into our three-hour drive, we stopped at a food mall where someone was serving crisp masala dosa and steaming coffee an unexpected delight amid winding hill roads. We enjoyed that meal blissfully unaware that this would be our last indulgent lunch before the mountains declared their own menu.
When 4:30 PM Feels Like Midnight
Dzuleke lies about 40 km from Kohima and roughly 80 km from Dimapur, nestled in the folds of the Dzüko Valley region.
When we finally arrived, my senses struggled to make sense of the moment. My watch claimed it was 4:30 PM, but the sky looked like approaching midnight.
In these hills, the sun retreats early often by 3 PM and by 2 PM the golden afternoon already begins to slip into a cold, shadowed evening.
We stepped out into a world wrapped in stillness and mountain chill, where time itself seems to slow down.
A Hamlet in Harmony: The Zero-Waste Village
Dzuleke is not a village you stumble upon , it is more like a whisper preserved in the hills.
With just 40 houses and about 60 permanent residents, it remains one of Nagaland’s finest examples of sustainable, community-led eco-tourism. Many young villagers study or work outside and return during holidays, bringing the population to just over 100.
Home to the Angami tribe, Dzuleke is widely known as a zero-waste village, guided by strict community rules that protect the forest, wildlife, and fragile natural balance.
There are no hotels here.
We stayed at Kevi’s Homestay, run by Ms. Kevi and her tiny, fluffy Pomeranian. The cottage was simple and warm , a neat bedroom, a modest hall, a worn yet comforting sofa, a crackling fireplace, and a graceful arrangement of dried wildflowers. Every corner reflected the village’s mindful, uncluttered ethos.
Where the Forest Still Breathes
Morning revealed the real soul of Dzuleke.
The hamlet is encircled by dense, living forest , a sanctuary where wildlife thrives because hunting is strictly prohibited. As you walk, you feel like a respectful guest in nature’s home.
These forests shelter the Blyth’s Tragopan (Nagaland’s state bird), barking deer, stump-tailed macaques, and clusters of wild berries and tiny woodland blooms.
Even the river holds treasures , it is one of the few places where the elusive Snow Trout is found.
Nature here is not scenery; it is presence. It breathes, protects, and welcomes those who tread lightly.
The Vegetarian Reality
If you are vegetarian in Nagaland, fitness is not a choice , it comes built-in.
First, the walking.
Cottages rest across slopes and trails, making 5–7 km a day almost inevitable.
Then comes the food.
Dinner was minimal: sticky rice, a pale and watery dal, and a simple potato–cauliflower sabzi. But what saved the evenings was the fiery Bhut Jolokia (king chilli) and garlic chutney unapologetically bold, beautifully hot, and the single flavour note that warmed our mountain nights.
The Sound That Stays: Silence
The next morning, we wandered through the village. Silence was everywhere not empty, but profound.
The lanes were deserted; villagers were either indoors or working in distant fields.
Only the Church and the Tourist Registration Office marked human presence.
Travel Note:
An Inner Line Permit (ILP) is mandatory for Indian tourists visiting Nagaland. Apply online before reaching Dimapur for a smooth entry.
A Place That Lives Slowly
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| Without this Chilly life would be lifeless. |
Dzuleke offers no noise, nightlife, or frantic schedules. Its charm lies in its simplicity , in mist that lingers, forests that breathe, and rivers that whisper their own steady music.
On our walk along the riverside trail, the only sounds were clear flowing water and the soft rustle of the wind.
In this tiny zero-waste haven of barely 60 residents, we found a rare peace , the kind that modern life rarely allows.
Dzuleke is quiet, humble, and small.
But it stays within you long after the journey ends.
From Dzuleke ,We made our way to the charming village called Khonoma.
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