Once a Warrior, Now a Guardian: A Walk Through Khonoma

Khonoma doesn’t make an entrance. It just slowly shows up. As you drive closer, the hills begin to fold around you, terraces appear one after another, and suddenly you’re inside a village that feels calm in a way that’s hard to explain. About twenty kilometres from Kohima, this Angami Naga village in Nagaland is known as Asia’s first Green Village but when you’re there, that label feels almost unnecessary. Khonoma doesn’t need to advertise what it is.

 

Khonoma is a historic village, with sources suggesting it's about 700 years old, established by the Angami people.

"Warrior Village" Known for its brave resistance against British colonial forces, it has a rich history of martial skills.

we climbed a hill overlooking the village. The walk was easy, unhurried. From the top, Khonoma spread out beautifully terraced fields blending into forests, rooftops fading into the valley. Old fort remains stood along the ridge, reminders of a time when this village was at the centre of fierce resistance against British rule.

 

The Angami tribe in Nagaland traditionally uses hunting trophies as symbols of bravery, status, and wealth, primarily for house decoration and personal adornment during festivals. Unlike the Konyak tribe, who were historically known for displaying human heads as trophies, the Angami focus is on animal parts.

Big feasts call for big spoons. Celebrating the art of Naga community cooking with these sustainable, handcrafted essentials.

In Naga culture, finding a hornet’s nest isn't just luck—it’s like striking gold. Known as a "rich man's gourmet," bee and hornet larvae are a prized seasonal delicacy. Whether grilled over an open flame to caramelized perfection or stir-fried with the heat of a King Chili, this dish commands high respect  in local markets. This one may cost around Re.35000 as our guide Vikho told us.

A library with no locks, no fees, and no barriers just the freedom to read.

For over 175 years, missionaries have nurtured the spirit of education here, empowering generations to read, write, and confidently engage with the world in English. Knowledge truly belongs to everyone.

 What made the moment special was what was happening right there. Between the old stone walls and a few traditional houses, boys were playing volleyball. Their laughter floated across the hilltop. A place once built for defence was now a playground. That contrast said more than any history lesson could.

Not far from the game, an elderly woman sat outside her home, drying millet in the sun. The grains were spread out on woven mats and flat stones. Every now and then, she gently turned them with her hands. No hurry. No fuss. Just rhythm and routine. That single scene children playing, grain drying, forts watching quietly felt like Khonoma in one frame.

Walking through the village later, you notice the details. Traditional Angami houses. Stone monoliths. Carved Kharu gates that once guarded the village, now standing as symbols of identity. The forests around are alive with birds, including the rare Blyth’s tragopan. Mornings begin with birdsong, not alarms.

n Naga culture, finding a hornet’s nest isn't just luck—it’s like striking gold. Known as a "rich man's gourmet," bee and hornet larvae are a prized seasonal delicacy. Whether grilled over an open flame to caramelized perfection or stir-fried with the heat of a King Chili, this dish commands high respect (and prices!) in local markets.

Khonoma has a powerful history , it was once a warrior village that fiercely resisted colonial rule. Today, it channels that same strength into conservation. Hunting is banned. Forests are protected. Farming remains organic by instinct, not trend.

Our stay was in a homestay, and that’s really the best way to experience the village. The house wasn’t tiny or cramped like many hill homes. It was a proper two-storeyed house ,comfortable, lived-in, and warm. 

The evening itself had its own charm. As the sky turned dusky and temperatures dipped, a campfire was lit. Around it, we were served rice beer ,one of the locals’ favourite drinks, made by fermenting rice. Taste, of course, is personal. Locals love it. For someone like me who couldn’t quite enjoy even cashew feni ,it felt like a much milder version. Still, sipping it slowly by the fire, wrapped in layers, felt right for the moment.

Morning changed everything.

With daylight, the homestay came alive.

 The orchids I’d missed the night before were now impossible to ignore. 

Nagaland hosts a rich diversity of orchids, with counts varying slightly by study, but generally ranging from over 360 species to more recent estimates as high as 423 species.

What instantly caught my eye were the plants. Orchids everywhere. Different varieties, blooming proudly. Poinsettias added bright red splashes all around the house. By evening, though, the cold and fading light didn’t let us admire them much.

So many varieties, all in bloom. It felt like waking up inside a small orchid garden. As I walked around the patio, I noticed a large plaque mounted on the wall. It carried a message of gratitude.

The Angami tribe erects large stone monoliths  to commemorate significant events and lineage, a practice seen in traditional accounts. Here, people openly acknowledge their parents, grandparents, and ancestors. After their passing, they are remembered with a plaque stone or marble if the family can afford it, or even a simple wooden plank if they can’t. What matters isn’t the material, but the sentiment. A public thank-you. A quiet remembrance. How thoughtful...

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This isn’t unique to Khonoma. You see it across many Naga villages. And standing there, reading those plaques, I couldn’t help thinking about how we often label tribal communities as “less educated.” Yet here was humility, gratitude, and emotional depth expressed without drama or noise. It stayed with me.

But what made the moment special was what was happening right there. Between the old stone walls and a few traditional houses, boys were playing volleyball. Their laughter floated across the hilltop. A place once built for defence was now a playground. That contrast said more than any history lesson could.

Khonoma has a powerful history..it was once a warrior village that fiercely resisted colonial rule. Today, it channels that same strength into conservation. Hunting is banned. Forests are protected. Farming remains organic by instinct, not trend.

Khonoma made me realise that strength doesn’t always mean fighting. Sometimes, it means choosing restraint. Choosing care. Choosing to protect what matters.

Once a warrior, Khonoma is now a guardian of its forests, its traditions, and a way of life that feels increasingly rare. And you leave carrying something gentle with you a quiet respect, and a sense that this village has figured out something important.

From Khonoma, we headed to our next destination Kisama, the venue of the much-awaited Hornbill Festival. After hearing and reading about it for so long, it finally felt real. Now, we were actually on our way.