Dimasa sounds compact and slightly clipped, like sentences are made to fit breathless conversations on steep hillsides. It’s Tibeto-Burman, but it borrows bits of Assamese and Hindi in casual speech.

Basic phrases you’ll hear:

Na dangwi? → “How are you?”

Anga Dimasa bur → “I am Dimasa.”

Bwlma gwswi → “Happy festival.”

Dimasa people love storytelling, especially when food is involved. I once asked for fish curry in Haflong, and the restaurant owner launched into a ten-minute tale about where the fish came from, who caught it, and how his grandmother scolded him for spilling spices as a kid.

Festivals like Bushu are where Dimasa comes alive — songs, dances, chants, and constant teasing. People hand you rice beer, laugh at your accent, and somehow teach you three new phrases without you realizing it.

Pro tip: Dimasa intonation changes meaning fast. Listen carefully before you repeat anything, unless you want to accidentally insult someone’s uncle instead of complimenting the food.

Dimasa sounds musical but sturdy — like the hills it comes from. My first experience was at Haflong railway station, where a man selling oranges taught me my first phrase:

“Ang Dimasa.” → “I’m Dimasa.”
Then he insisted I repeat it to everyone I met, which caused a lot of confusion because strangers thought I was introducing myself as their cousin.

Other handy ones:

“Bwiya?” → “How are you?”

“Nang do?” → “Where are you going?”

Dimasa conversations are playful. People use a lot of teasing, nicknames, and inside jokes. Once, a woman scolded me for mispronouncing “Bwiya,” saying I sounded like I was calling someone “old bamboo.”

Food here is full of fermented magic — fish, pork, and bamboo shoots dominate. There’s a dish called na-wathwi (pork curry) that you can smell from half a hill away. And yes, they have their version of rice beer too, zou — dangerously smooth, always refilled.

The Bushu Dima Festival is when Dimasa energy peaks: dancing in long lines, chanting songs that sound like river currents, and gossiping over plates of smoked fish. By the end of the night, everyone knows your name — whether you wanted them to or not.