During the War, I had only a glimpse of Assam. Being then more concerned with operations, I had little opportunity of close contact with the people. Besides the Japs, our other foe was the mosquito, which had taken quite a toll of lives. Due to regular doses of mepacrine, the whites of my eyes had turned yellow, thus giving me a jaundiced look. This unpalatable experience had created a lasting impression on me. And thus, on the eve of my last visit to Assam, I dreaded the idea of going there.

Two days later, I passed through Katihar en route to Shillong via the unusually slow Assam link, which is devoid of many ordinary amenities of everyday life. Scarcity of good drinking water and hygienic food still exists on this route. The water that I had kept in a glass jug turned reddish, the rust showing up clearly. Had it not been for a timely offer of hot tea from a co-passenger; I might have gone thirsty.

At some of the so-called important stops, one could get only gram and ‘singaras’*, and since these were then the only link between me and existence, I had no other alternative. It was a relief to arrive at pandu, where a hearty meal was available on board the ferry, which later took me across the Brahmaputra. The scenery on either side of the snake-like road from Gauhati to Shillong was more enchanting than the distasteful landscapes between Katihar and Pandu. As the car winds its way up the rising highway, the tall slender bamboos dressed in their greenish finery keep bowing in the breeze, as if welcoming you to Assam. Further up, the giant firs are like sentinels guarding over the hilly countryside.

Half way up at Nonghpoh, the car halted over half an hour. Walking up to a roadside inn for lunch, I saw a number of fruit and vegetable vendors, mostly teen-age village belles, conducting brisk business. Their attractively coloured costumes revealed their naturally supple figures to advantage. The winsome smiles of their peach-red complexions were enough to melt the hearts of their numerous prospective customers. This was my first introduction to the Khasis.

In front of the Nonghpoh police post was a notice board covered with posters in Roman script, which on closer inspection were found to be not in the English language, but in Khasi. I learnt from an erstwhile Khasi acquaintance that his people had no written script of their own. A Khasi legend relates that the Khasi lost his book in a vast flood, and with it the art of writing.

Due to absence of native script, it is a pity that no tentative record is available to tell us how or whence the Khasis came. In the past, it appears, even the neighbouring peoples had taken little interest in the tribals. Perhaps, this was due to lack of easy communication and diversity of tongues spoken, which made contact a difficult matter. Prior to the advent of the British, Assam seems to have been virtually cut off from the rest of India. Thus, up to the dawn of the 19th century, the history of this region is rather vague, a good deal being either based on scientific theories or legends that exist to this day. The Khasis believe that though they have been here for centuries, they actually came from elsewhere.

I arrived at Shillong in the evening, and keen as I was to have a good look round this “Queen of Hill Stations”, I could not do so, due to the short time at my disposal. Shillong was full of activity, parties of men and women having their evening strolls, groups on their way to places of entertainment, some young folk shopping and others roaming at leisure. What struck me was their cheerful nature, lightheartedness, happy-go-lucky outlook on life and their robust health. Before proceeding further, I would like to tell you something about their background.

About 1778 a former Resident and Collector of Sylhet, Robert Lindsay, in his “Lives of the Lindsays”, described the Khasis as a tribe of independent Tartars having direct relations with China. In the early 19th century, Dr. Buchanan-Hamilton, although spending many years studying the races in Eastern India, in his descriptions confused the Khasis with the Garos, an error also committed by the Rev. W. Lish, a Baptist Missionary, in 1838. In 1840 Captain Fisher of the Survey Department, in an authoritative account of the Khasis, stated the prevalence of matriarchy, absence of polyandry, “their religion as a worship of gods of valleys and hills, system or augury used to ascertain the will of the gods and dwelling at length on the megalithic monuments situated on the higher plateaus.” Fisher says that the Khasis are a race totally different from the neighbouring tribes.

The isolation of the Khasi race amidst a vast multitude of Tibeto-Burman stock, and the remarkable features of their language soon attracted the attention of philologists. With the arrival of the Welsh Calvinistic Mission in 1842, the Khasi language was studied. Bengali script, after a trial, was found unsuitable for Khasi. The missionaries therefore decided to use the Roman script instead, a system which proved convenient for expressing the sounds in Khasi, and still in vogue today.

H. R. Logan, editor of the “Journal of the Indian Archipelago” from 1850 to 1857, pointed out the affinity between the Khasis and the Mons or Talaings of Pegu and Tenesserim, the Khmers of Cambodia, and the Annamese. Through a study of Oriental languages, he found that the nearest kinsmen of the Khasis are the Palaungs in the Shan States. Later researches revealed that the Khasis belong to the Mon-Khmer group of Indo-China, which was somewhat connected with the large linguistic family (mainly comprising the Santals, Mundas and Korkus), inhabiting Chota Nagpur and parts of the Satpura Range.

In 1906, Prof. Schmidt of Vienna established the kinship of Khasi not only with the Mon-Khmer languages but also with Nicobarese and several dialects spoken by wild tribes in Malaya. The roots of the words are seen to be similar, as also the order of words in a sentence, indicating that these peoples think alike.

Khasi-Palaung affinity is strengthened by a Palaung folk-tale stating that the Palaung Sawbwa was descended from Thusandi, a Naga princess who lived in Nat Tank, where she laid three eggs. From one was born the ancestor of the Palaung Sawbwa. The Khasis lay great stress on the potency of the egg in divination for religious sacrifices. At death, an egg is placed on the stomach of the deceased, and later broken on the funeral pyre. Among some Malayan tribes, the Gaji-Guru or medicine-man “can see from the yolk of the egg, broken while sacramentally counting from one to seven, from what illness a man is suffering and what caused it.”

The Palaung tale is interesting, and might suggest of the matriarchate still in vogue amongst the Menangkabau Malays of Sumatra and adjacent lands. The matriarchate was prevalent amongst the primitive races of Cambodia. Ancient Chinese writers have spoken of the Queens of Founan (Cambodia). Since Khmers were the ancient peoples of Cambodia, there is an important landmark between them and the Khasis.

Ancestor worship has since long existed in the Malay Archipelago, even amongst tribes who later embraced Islam. The same may be said of some Khasis who became Christians. The custom universally observed by the Khasis at births, as regards the placenta being mixed with ashes, placed in a pot and hung on a tree, has parallel cases among the South Moluccans and west coast Sumatrans. All this seems to point that the Khasis are Malay in appearance, and it is clear that they have affinity with both the Mon-Khmers and the Malays.

From Shillong, Some days later, I proceeded to Elephant Falls. When one talks of waterfalls, one immediately recalls the Niagara or the Victoria, whose majesty there are few to dispute. Elephant Falls is actually puny in comparison. A little rivulet descends from a neighbouring hill, winds its way down under a culvert, and finally ends its career in a deep pond about 50 feet in diameter, 600 yards from the main highway. The fall is hardly 80 feet, and during the dry season the water silently flows down the edge.

It was disappointing to discover that the water flowing here was not aqua pura, but one coming through an adjacent camp! The scenery, however, is charming: greenery all round with a moderate undergrowth, the tall fire soaring high into the sky. Carvings of hearts with arrows, and names of those who made them, decorate the tree trunks, legacies of many a romance. A few stone slabs serve as benches for those who care to use them. In close proximity of the falls are a couple of lovers’ walks with peaceful retreats, and further away are groves on the slopes.

On the main road were a few Khasis, some with conical baskets on their backs and supported with cloth bands on their foreheads, others with neat bundles of firewood, all on their way from Mawphlang to Shillong to sell their wares, later to return home with their domestic needs. Short in stature but with muscular physique, these stalwarts can carry heavy loads for long distances. It was not surprising to learn that they make some of the best porters in North Eastern India.

The Khasis, numbering over three lakhs, are a carefree race who prize liberty above everything else. It is quite easy to recognise a Khasi by his dress, comprising a modified form of western trousers and coat. For headgear, he wears a small turban. The female attire is more picturesque: a large scarf or kerchief covering the head, a colourful lungi and a blouse, and finally a loose cloak over the latter, resting over the shoulders and secured by a neat knot under the chin. The girls choose their colours with care. Though at first these may appear gaudy to a stranger, it is a treat to watch the gatherings at fairs and festivals, when a multitude of hues greets the eye.

As is generally evident in this region, agriculture on the hillslopes and jungle clearings is the main occupation. Due to difficulties involving water and drainage control, the people have to labour hard. The more enterprising, residing near the main highways, also manage to cultivate crops for sale. Burning the undergrowth and scattering the ashes, known as ‘jhooming’, is a common way of fertilising. Though the western half of the Khasi Hills is not so fertile, the Khasis by sheer effort manage to grow crops not only for home consumption but also for sale in the neighbouring villages. Besides the staple crop rice, they raise maize on the slopes, pulses, pine-apples, oranges, peaches, plums, pears, arecanuts and even a small amount of cotton in the clearings. The Khasis also devote large areas to potatoes, first introduced here about 125 years ago.

Adept at making domestic articles out of bamboo and cane, both found in fair abundance in this region, the Khasis excel in producing mats, chairs and tables, cradles, bird-cages and fishing-rods. Miniature replicas of some of these items are used both as toys and means of adornment. Khasis also weave cotton and silk cloth on locally-made handlooms. Like other tribals, they lay emphasis on attractive colours.

Next day, at the first glow of light, I left with a party for Jowai, 35 miles away. The chilly morning breeze was bracing, a good omen when one has a long march ahead. A few minutes later, we were trudging along a path on the slope of Shillong Peak, about which there are many folk tales. One relates that long ago when the world was young, on the top of Dingiei, a hill close to Shillong Peak; there was a big tree which overshadowed the whole world.

The Khasis unanimously decided that felling the tree would bring good and light to the world, which was then dark and unfruitful. They used to cut it during the day, and on returning the next morning, they found the cuts obliterated! This strange occurrence baffled them. On investigation, they learnt from ka phreid, a small bird, that “all this happened because a tiger comes every night to the tree and licks the part of the tree which has been cut.” From then onwards, after cutting the tree, they tied their axes and knives to the incisions with their sharp blades pointing outwards. When at night, as usual, the tiger came to lick the cuts, the sharp blades cut his tongue. The tiger hence-forth ceased to come to the tree, and so the cuts were not obliterated any more. The tree was thus felled and the world received the light of the sun and moon. No one knows what became of the tree, for since then its species died out.

Two miles away, we made our way to the top of a hill about 3000 feet high. Since the gradient was almost one in two, we got tired out. The up-hill path, probably over 100 years old, consisted of giant stone slabs in steps all the way up. What a relief I felt when I reached the top and viewed the beauty around me! The Shillong Peak presented a majestic appearance, with its little cottages on the grassy slopes dotted with tall firs rising high, as if vying with one another to reach the deep blue sky. Standing on a projecting boulder, I could see for miles around. To the right, the gravel road to Jowai spread like a narrow red carpet winding through the beautiful landscape, its course sometimes obscured by the blue hills. This ridge, about 10 miles away from Shillong, is an artist’s paradise.

Continuing our way, we found ourselves approaching a village. Some distance to the left were a group of Khasis, descending with easy strides, and chanting a melody as they jogged along. Besides their loads, they also had haversacks, in which, we later learnt, they carry food, money and their ‘pan-supari**’. We enquired from one of them the distance to Jowai, and were taken aback when he replied that it was about twenty ‘pans’ away! It was interesting to know that rural people here usually define distance by the number of ‘pans’ chewed on the way.

Khasi villages are generally sited below the summits, and this one was no exception. This is because the people want protection from the Nor’westers, and more so because it is taboo for Khasis to live on the peaks. Being a settled community who soon become attached to their surroundings, they seldom change village sites, in the vicinity of which they have their family and clan-grave-yards. One may judge the age of a village by its stone monoliths, the custom of erecting them being as old as the hills.

Just outside the village was a solemn group of Khasis. One of their kinsmen had died. Coming closer, we found the corpse laid on a pyre, head to the west. Shortly afterwards, the egg-breaking ritual was observed. Fire was then applied to the pyre by the children of the deceased. Three arrows were shot into the air, one each to the north, east and south. We learnt that after the corpse has been burnt, the calcined bones are collected by the relatives and taken to the tribal cemetery for being interred. There, a large flat stone is stuck upright into the ground in memory of the dead.

In the days gone by, different types of stone were erected, each having its own significance. The stones were of granite or sandstone, rough-hewn, gradually tapering towards the top. The ‘mawlynti’ or ‘mawjkat’ were meant to serve as seats for departed clansfolk. The ‘mawbynna’ were in memory of parents and near relations. The ‘maw-umkoi’ marked the sites of tanks, where the ashes and bones of those who died unnatural deaths were washed. All these were not to be confused with the ‘maw-shongihait’, flat stones placed horizontally in market-places and the roadside for the convenience of travellers.

Adjacent to their villages, the Khasis have their groves of pine and oak, where none are supposed to fell. Herein, they gather to worship their village deity, U-Ryngkew-u-Basa. The village dwellings are generally raised on plinths about two feet above the ground. One or two windows serve for the purpose of ventilation. Since the hearth is generally kept in the centre, the atmosphere inside is rather dark and smoky. Usually oval in shape, a Khasi house has three rooms, one for sleeping, the centre for the hearth, and the other as a sort of porch. Though most of the houses are of wood, some have stone walls. The Khasis pile their firewood and odds and ends in the porch, while outside their cows and pigs roam ad lib. During the night these animals are kept in little huts nearby. Despite their general poverty, the Khasis are contented, taking life as it comes.

As we plodded onward, the outskirts of Jowai greeted us with a smile. The village urchins with their chubby cheeks and pretty costumes lined up the wayside, their grins conveying to us that we were in friendly country. Nearby, some Khasis puffed bidis and cheap cigarettes, others chatting over cups of tea at the roadside cafe, run by a young pretty female. Her attractive, features were enhanced by her rosy health. Although she was the only woman present, there was a sense of orderliness amongst the, customers. There are many such cafes in the villages along the main highway. Therein, the Khasis like to collect together to spend their spare time, gossiping or even talking over small transactions in daily life.

Some time later, we passed through the Shellatang Military Farm, which stretches a few miles on the road to Jowai. The farm raised a variety of vegetables, all grown by volunteer effort of jawans from the units in Shillong. When the jawans initially came here some years ago, they had to build their own quarters. Their present barracks were neat and tidy. The farm presented a fine picture. This was mainly due to the spadework of an energetic Sikh brigadier commanding the Shillong brigade, who took a very keen interest in its success.

We halted at Jowai for a couple of days. The environments here were beautiful. Scattered at several spots were groves of pine and oak, on the outskirts of which are beautiful lawns of grass dotted with small bushes bearing wild flowers in bloom. About two furlongs from my temporary abode was a hillock, on which stood a cluster of cottages with beautiful red-tiled roofs. The charm of the surroundings was enhanced by the well-maintained grassy meadows. This little colony comprises a co-educational institution run by a Christian Mission. In the evening, I paid a visit to the school, where on arrival the Principal very kindly showed me round the classes, dormitories, library, dining-hall, workshop and playgrounds. All these were well equipped and an example of tidiness. The students displayed a high sense of discipline everywhere.

It was a credit to those who ran the institution, that they provided modern facilities in many ways, especially their own water and electricity, something which the adjacent army farm could not boast of. More pleasant was the surprise that there are a number of such schools dotted all over Khasi-land, some being right in the interior. Here, let me, in all justice, pay a tribute to the sincere and hardworking missionaries, who have done a lot in the cause of uplift and welfare of the local tribals. To the criticisms that one hears about the missionaries, it can be said that they entered the field when none others had even thought of doing anything for the tribals. Despite the atmosphere that they have been through, the local inhabitants consider themselves Indians first and Khasis only second.

During my tour of the classes in this institution, I found the students both keen and intelligent. Khasi names, however, baffled me. My erstwhile escort explained that Khasi parents are fond of naming children after great personalities of the West. For instance, here were Khasi boys named Washington, Lincoln, Mckinley, Scott, Churchill, Stephenson, Roosevelt and Lyngdoh. More interesting was the case with girls’ names. In a class, the teacher pointed out to me three Khasi sisters, and much to my amusement, he told me that their names were Million, Billion and Trillion!

While returning from the school, some one on the road greeted me with a ‘Good evening to you, Sir.’ On turning round, I saw a Khasi villager, young and sturdy, with a pole slung across his shoulder, on which dangled a basket and his native jacket. He smiled at me and requested; “Excuse me, Sir, I would like to play basket-ball at your camp.” I guided him to where the game was in progress, and when he joined in, I was surprised to find that he played it so well. After the game was over, I asked him where he was educated. He modestly revealed that he had never been to school, and whatever English he had picked up was during the war, when British troops were stationed near his village. As he was a Hindu, I was rather astonished, as up to that time I had been under the impression that out here only the Christian Khasis bothered to learn English.

Next day, I paid a short visit to Jaintiapur. As it happened to be a weekly fair day, the market place was very crowded, and most of the time I had to squeeze through from one place to another. The whole atmosphere was one of festivity. There were separate sections for vegetables, fruit, meat, fresh and dry fish, rice and other cereals, domestic articles, groceries and general merchandise. The smell of fish and vegetable refuse on the ground pervaded the air, but this did in the least bother the Khasis from going about their business, which went on in full swing.

One aspect that strikes a casual visitor here is the predominance of female vendors. This is because, on account of the matriarchy, the women occupy a high pedestal in the community and family life of the Khasis. The women run the house and business, while the men work in the fields, tend the cows and pigs, and bring firewood home. Close to the fair, the men were having archery contests, and indulging in other sports.

Two days later, I reached Shillong. It happened to be a Sunday. While waiting for my down-hill journey to commence, I noticed cheerful groups of Khasi boys and girls dressed in their Sunday best on their way to the church. The peals of the church bells mingled with their youthful laughter, which spoke of their contented and happy life.

As the car left the outskirts of Shillong, I began to recollect all that I had seen during my short sojourn in the land of the Khasis. It had been a pleasant experience. One point stood out in the forefront, that humans can be happy with even the frugal means at their disposal, if only they appreciate the blessings of Nature. For indeed, the Khasis are Nature’s own offspring.
**************************************************************

January 28 2015