By Toki Blah
An issue that most Khasis take pride in is the community’s traditional response to Death. The claim is that we have a cultural and traditional respect for the dead. This respect is exemplified and practiced in many ways and forms; depending from situation to situation; clan to clan; from person to person, from shong (habitation) to shnong. At times transcending worldly materialistic considerations to reach the sublime while often it can also be stretched to the limits of the absurd.
Death in a Khasi family, as in families of other communities, no doubt, is always bound by conventional rituals. Once the initial shock is over, fussy social considerations come into play. First priority is to inform relatives, clan members and friends. In a clan dominated Tribal society nothing less can be expected. Preparations for the arrival of neighbours, friends and general sympathisers take over. Preparation for the wake by setting up a respectable shamee-ia-naa, arranging for chairs and benches and ensuring the publication of an obituary in the local papers takes precedence. Of recent origin is the practice to turn all wallhangings wall wards, exposing all the grime, dusty cobwebs, neglected backsides of picture frames, rusty nails and cheap hanging string – the whole works, to all and sundry. The belief is that all house decorations, however innocent they might be, are offensive to the dead. The phenomenon probably owes its origins to local busybodies who feel (ba sngew) that it is the correct gesture to denote bereavement. Since no one has ever challenged the how and why of this absurd practice, it has entrenched itself in society. A typical example of how as a community we have allowed feelings, as against reason, to dominate our thought process. Even serious matters of state are now dependent on feelings (namar ba sngew) rather than knowledge (namar ba tip).
Another recent routine that has caught on when bereavements occur is to balance the sense of loss with the notion of community feasting. Large quantities of pork, beef, chicken and fish now form the menu for many grieving households, not to mention the biscuits, cakes and pastries that accompany innumerable rounds of tea. A God sent opportunity for political patrons to distribute gifts of sugar and rice. The ritual of paying last respects by feeding as many people as possible not only sounds unpleasantly gross and vulgar but it can also be economically crippling as well. Pride and the desire to maintain social self respect at the time of loss, especially by imitating the irrational and idiotic behaviour of the rich, can be a double edged curse for most grieving poor Khasi Pnar families. Modern Khasi society is no society for the poor to die in.
The next important ritual in death is the funeral and be it by cremation or burial, Khasi funerals will ever remain one of the most ornate and convoluted. Funerals unaccompanied by many speeches, the more detailed and longwinded the better, are no funerals at all. The main objective of these speeches is to praise the departed and the number of speakers are indicative of the social recognition bestowed on the departed as well as the social standing of the bereaved family. It is an occasion to highlight well concealed good social qualities and sweep under the carpet prominent lapses if any. In a nut shell, a social gesture that seems to say “Adios, go in peace; there are no hard feelings and whatever differences there might have been they are now immaterial”. Sort of societal visa clearance for the departed soul to give it confidence for its sojourn into the next world. Speeches at Khasi funerals often therefore result in instant metamorphosis of base mortals into angels incarnate, so much so, that at times the subject itself would be hard put to recognise its reconstructed predeath profile. If Khasi tradition is oral bound then funerals are the best places to listen to some, impromptu and very innovative yarns.
For those unblessed with the call for oration, the next best thing to show respect for the dead is by saying it with flowers. In days of yore, we bade farewell to our dead with firecrackers, the louder the better. Today we say it with wreaths, the bigger the better. Local urchins once had the onus of collecting flowers for wreaths. They would descend with ruthless abandon on any well kept garden and in the name of the dead strip it clean of all its blooms, leaving behind indignant, tearful but silent helpless gardeners. Today gardeners are made of sterner stuff, ready to defend their gardens from the blitz of tradition. People have therefore turned to artificial blooms making cemeteries just one more place, to be polluted with plastic flowers. None doubt the need to express undying love and respect for the departed but all the same, can it be done without further endangering a threatened environment? We need to hear the pulpit declare “No more plastics please!” What a beautiful Sunday that would be.
Finally comes the time for the departed to make their final journey. The time for the last and final lament and bewailment arrives. Relatives, friends and acquaintances are called upon for a last glimpse of the one they are destined to see no more. It’s the solemn moment for shawl covered ladies of the family to come out and demonstrate to the world their tears; sorrow; grief and anguish over their loss and bereavement. Time to take note of who came for the funeral and who didn’t. It’s also time once again for the local busybodies to reveal before one and all their ideas and beliefs on how they ‘feel’ the dead ought to be treated. It usually results in a lot of uncalled for, extraneous commotion, adding unnecessary stress to an already stressful occasion. They sincerely believe it adds to the solemnity of the event. On the other hand, there is for sure, grieving family members just itching to deliver a resounding kick on some deserving interfering backside. It’s just simple respect for the dead that prevents most people from resorting to such justifiable violence.
Then, on conclusion of the home service, the funeral cortege begins to wind its way to the final destination of all mankind. No doubt members forming the procession are there to pay their last respects but the occasion also does offer and serve as an opportunity for social bonding where an uninterrupted conversation, on a thousand and one subjects, is guaranteed for the next two hours (cortege and last rites time taken together). The march takes on the pace of a slow stroll; the ideal occasion to catch up with the latest gossip or to catch an elusive, slippery nonconformist member of the clan by the collar and lecture him on his erring ways. The poor dear can’t plead he’s in a hurry to go somewhere; can’t raise an argument and there’s no escape route. The only thing left for him to do is to look contrite; yield to the injustice of the occasion while mentally giving way to day dreams where a sympathetic listening God, wherever he is, ensures that the next coffin be yours !
By evening the last human efforts to bring solace, succour and comfort to the bereaved members of the family would have come to a conclusion. Religion and faith related rites regarding the dead would have been completed. The time for tension and stress considered socially and officially over. It’s now acceptable for those who can, to let their hair down and start attending once again to matters related to life and the living. It’s the time for comedians, jokers and story tellers, those age old companions of Khasi oral tradition, to step forth and articulate their talents by rekindling laughter, amusement and the joy of life in an environment of gloom. The wonder is that, time and again, they succeed without fail. The beauty is their ability to lift the shroud of mourning and turn the heavy burden of loss once again into a pedestal of hope for tomorrow. No wonder we all take such pride in the community’s traditional response to Death. It’s too simple to claim that this response is solely in honour of the dead alone. Call it psychology counselling at its best; take it as instinctive community support and commitment for the living as they mourn for their dead; perhaps it’s traditional wisdom on how to deal with personal loss; be it what it may and whatever it is, the time has come for us to give it the recognition it deserves. We can do this by improving on the social capital that it feeds on; sustaining it through knowledge not through ‘feelings’ and building on this community respect for both the living and the dead by bestowing upon it that value of social equity which has always been the trademark of indigenous people such as we.