Patricia Mukhim
Janet Hujon (Moore) is from Shillong but now lives in the UK. As a scholar of literature, Janet has a deep respect and fascination for Khasi poetry and literature. Her book, “Tales of Darkness and Light: Soso Tham’s The Old Days of the Khasis” (Ki Sngi Barim U Hynniewtrep), published by Open Book Publishers, UK, gives the non-Khasi reader an insight into Khasi thought and philosophy as envisaged by one of the greatest Khasi poets, U Soso Tham. Recently Janet was in Shillong and did a reading of her translations of Soso Tham’s poems at Martin Luther Christian University and at NEHU. In attendance were students and faculty of English Departments of the two universities. I was fortunate to have been privy to Janet’s deep exploration of Tham’s poems as an insider abroad. It was in many senses a personal journey for her as she tries to negotiate the cultural chasm between east and west; between an adopted land known for its poet-laureates and the land of her birth with its myths and fables; its poetry and songs; its conversation with itself as it tries to fathom its own origins and then of course the dichotomy of straddling between the indigenous Khasi way of life and Christianity – a religion brought by the white man from the west.
For Janet, the reading session was her way of paying homage to the ‘Ri’ (the land of her birth); a home she misses because here she touches base with her intrinsic being which is more than what culture can encompass. Here it is where a Khasi meets up with her ‘Ki Kur and Ki Kha (relatives from the mother’s and father’s clan line, respectively).This is her nest as it were; a land that gave her first sense of identity and belongingness. Hence it is with pathos and nostalgia that Janet read out her translated pieces almost as if she was giving meaning to her own moorings. There was stillness in that room and reverence for every word that Janet spoke. At no time have I experienced such a profound sense of longing for that idyllic age when life was untouched by the complexities of modernity – the age of Soso Tham. And yet the poet in him forewarned us of the dangers of an unexamined life.
April took me to Toronto, and Vaughan in Canada for a conference. In this web-connected world it does not take long to connect with Khasis there. We met on a rainy, windy and cold Sunday at the Niagara Falls. After savouring the beauty of that stupendous waterfall which was in my bucket list for as long as I can remember, and, capturing for posterity the Niagara from all angles, we went to Tim Horton, Canada’s famous coffee place on a hilltop. There we started our ‘adda’ (tete-a-tete) and were joined by a Bengali couple from Shillong. The conversation flowed like the Niagara; it was unstoppable as each couple narrated their stories and what turn of fate brought them to Canada. Everyone in the group wanted to know what was happening back home. I could sense a deep longing for that place called ‘home’ where the heart resides, amidst these undulating hills. Canada, was, after all an adopted home. In the evening we had dinner at a couple’s home. There the conversation veered around the western culture versus the Indian one. I could sense a longing for the human bond that’s taken for granted here. Take for instance a death in a family and the rituals surrounding it. For three days there is a stream of visitors from far and near. There are the kur and kha and ki lok ki jor (friends and acquaintances).For the bereaved family this is a temporary escape from the pain of losing a loved one. Grieving can only happen after a week when visitors have dwindled.
For Indians used to living in a close-knit environment where parents continue to nurture their brood much beyond the 18 year top-line of the west, being thrown into a western environment and coping with it can be traumatic. At age 18, western kids are out in the world living life by their own rules. A psychiatrist from India who is part of that group I was with said, “One day a young man was brought to our ward in a very pathetic condition. He obviously was homeless and distraught and had probably not eaten for days. When we asked for his address he said he had none. He gave instead his mother’s address. That was a culture shock for us. In India we live with our parents, at least until we are married and economically stable,” the doctor said. A Khasi gentleman said he and his wife grabbed the opportunity to come to Canada because they thought their daughter would benefit from a good education. Now he says he’s not sure if western education sans the value systems of the Khasi milieu is really worth it. Indeed it is the Khasi value system of ‘tip briew- tip Blei, tip kur, tip kha, and kamai ia ka hok that perhaps stands a Khasi in good stead when he is at the crossroads and in doubt about his true identity. To understand the immensity of these values one must have lived outside for a while. Those of us who have lived here always, tend to take them for granted.
Even matriliny which has come in for sharp criticism internally is, for those who view it from the outside, a very nurturing and equalizing social arrangement. As Homiwell Lyngdoh says the Khasis have equal respect for the Kur and the Kha and this balances out the Khasi matrilineal system because it is not just the mother’s clan that is respected but the father’s lineage that Khasis believe is the giver of the genes (ki nongkha) that is held in high esteem. Both genders therefore carry equal worth in the scheme of things. As a society we are yet to engage with the realities and complexities posed by the third gender but it’s time we come to terms with this too.
One aspect of Khasi society is that of ‘celebration.’ We get together for every occasion. It could be a naming ceremony, birthday, a wedding, a death anniversary, a wedding anniversary, someone passing their exams well and a host of such opportunities to touch base with the kur and kha that are important guests at such functions. These are opportunities for bonding. Sometimes we murmur at having to be present at such gatherings, but, there’s an intrinsic value in this celebration. In fact these days because of the new culture of destination weddings where food is catered we miss the bonhomie of the rituals of community cooking. You will miss this when you live abroad.
The above may look like unnecessary rituals but they are comforting because they remind us we’re not alone. Our ancestors have done this before as part of the timeless passages of life. Rituals are also comforting in that they help concretize our spiritual experiences. Doing things together does something for the human spirit. I have always been fascinated by the ritual of burying a dead person. When the coffin is lowered into the grave, so many people are involved. After the customary handful of earth is thrown three times into the grave where the coffin now rests, by relatives and friends and it’s time to close up the grave, (jingtep) there will be many young men volunteering to do so with their implements even while family members of the deceased go around distributing kwai and tympew (betel nut and betel leaf) to everyone as a gesture of gratitude for accompanying dead person to the final resting place.
These rituals may be time consuming but they are an integral part of the Khasi culture. If we shed away these old rituals without replacing them with new ones we will as David Brooks in his article in the New York Times, ‘There Should Be more Rituals,” says we will unwittingly rob ourselves of a social architecture that marks and defines life’s phases. Above all, this is what our social capital is. Without social capital we will become lonely, individualistic and narcissistic like people in the west are. We don’t want to go down that road, do we?
And for those friends who are compelled to leave their cozy homelands, it is possible to carry your values with you wherever you go. After all those values are embedded in your psyche. It’s also important to find the time for storytelling and for those ‘Shyllong’ picnics in July where you can strum to the tune of “Ko Ri Khasi ko Ri Jongnga (Helen Giri and Chesterfield Khongwir) and U Sier Lapalang. These nostalgic tunes can revive what apparently seems lost in the humdrum of living life on the fast lane.