It’s been about two years and a half since I became a Sunbirder and needless to say my life has been full of learning and adventures ever since. From the very start, I was thrown into the heart of the action, travelling to places in the north-east that I’d never been to before despite being from the region myself. From the Indo-China border in Arunachal to the Indo- Myanmar border in Nagaland I travelled with different team members each time learning in depth about the kind of work and various projects that are carried out at Sunbird and also building relations which would help me navigate my way through the uncertainties in my journey at the organization.
Among many adventures, events and people that I encountered, a special experience that made me realise that it is only at Sunbird that I will see and experience — this was my journey to Buolmoul.
There is a saying here that goes “At Sunbird, there are no roads, only directions.” This phrase echoed in my mind as we prepared for the journey to Buolmuol, a remote village buried deep in the hills of Dima Hasao district, Assam. Our task seemed simple enough — to deliver solar lamps to homes that had long lived in darkness — but the path ahead was anything but straightforward.
Buolmuol is 14 kilometers away from the nearest road, and the only way to reach there was by foot. With no proper road, we would be relying on little more than narrow trails, winding through dense forest and rugged hills. It wasn’t just the distance that made the journey daunting, but the terrain itself, a test of both physical endurance and will.
We set out early in the morning from our base location, Mualdam, by car, and reached Thuruk, another village in that area. From there, we headed out on foot, with the lamps securely packed in our backpacks and boxes, each step a reminder of why this work mattered. For the villagers of Buolmuol, the solar lamps were more than just a source of light — they were a lifeline. Without electricity, life came to a halt as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. Studying, cooking, or even walking safely after dark was nearly impossible. The lamps would change that.
The trek was long and challenging. The rain from the previous night had turned the earth slick, and I often found myself falling and stumbling on the slippery and muddy trail. Every now and then, we’d have to wade across a small river or scramble over boulders. The isolation was palpable, with no signs of civilization in sight — only the dense green of the forest and the sound of our footsteps breaking the stillness.
Halfway through, we paused at a high point overlooking the valley below. The view was breathtaking, the hills rolling out endlessly before us, the landscape both beautiful and unforgiving. This was a place cut off from the modern world in so many ways, where daily life was a battle against nature’s elements.
After hours of walking, we finally reached the village. Situated in a small, hidden valley, Buolmuol felt like a world unto itself. The villagers welcomed us with open arms, their faces lighting up as they saw the lamps we carried. For them, this was more than just a delivery; it was a moment of change, a step towards a better, brighter life.
We gathered in the lower primary government school of the village to distribute the lamps and one by one, the families came forward, their eyes wide with anticipation as they collected their lamps. I remember seeing so many little kids during the distribution looking at our team with curiosity and excitement which made me think about how it must not be very often that these little ones get to see new and unfamiliar faces because of how remote the village was. I also saw mothers seated together teaching their children which buttons to press on the lamp and how to use it. It reassured me knowing that the lamps would keep the darkness at bay, giving children a chance to read and study, something they had never been able to do after sunset.
As the day drew to a close, we began our return journey. The trek back felt even longer, our bodies aching from the strain. But there was a deep sense of fulfillment within all of us. We had walked a total of 28 kilometers, back and forth through the hills, carrying not just solar lamps but also the hope of a brighter future for Buolmuol.
True to the saying at the beginning of my story, At Sunbird we don’t always have clear paths to follow, but we move forward, guided by our vision. And in Buolmuol, we knew we had left behind more than just light — we had left behind a promise of possibility.
About the author:
Amghali Achumi hails from Nagaland. With a background in English Literature, a Master’s degree in East Asian Studies from the University of Delhi, and experience as a Teach For India Fellow, she joined Sunbird Trust as a Lead Teacher. Beyond her professional work, Amghali is an avid reader and enjoys exploring various art forms.
