By H H Mohrmen
Coincidentally, before the Chief Minister and some of his cabinet colleagues made their grandiose visit to Ïewduh, a scholar visited me to discuss her plan to study traditional markets in the Khasi Hills. Just a few days before the Chief Minister’s visit, a student pursuing her Master’s degree at St. Anthony’s College along with her colleague interviewed me about the Ïawmusiang market for her dissertation.
Born to a mother who earned her livelihood by trading in various traditional markets in the Jaintia Hills, I have always had a keen interest in these marketplaces. I was born and raised near the Ïawmusiang market area, so my life has always revolved around markets, giving me the opportunity to observe firsthand how they function.
Market: An Intricate Part of Our Culture
People living in the Khasi and Jaintia Hills have rich folk stories about markets. Among the most well-known is the story of Ka Ïew Luri Lura, believed to be a market where both humans and animals once traded during a golden era of the tribe when communication between them was possible.
There is also the tale of the two rivers, Ka Umïam and Ka Umïew, the sisters who competed in a race to see who would reach the market in the plains first. A similar story exists about the Lukha and Lunar rivers, again featuring two sisters racing to reach the market. Even the story of Ka Ïawchibidi, progenitor of the Lamin and Laloo Diengdoh clans, is connected to a market in the plains. Clearly, the concept of markets and trade has long existed both within and beyond communities among the Khasi-Pnar people.
Markets were not just about trade and commerce
Traditional markets are not just about trade and business, and because they happened only once a week, these markets were hubs where different activities took place. Before the people learned to count the week using the Western system, market day dictated almost all the activities of the people. From deciding when to rest and even what to eat, it was all dictated by the market. When we were kids, we got to eat rice cake and pork cooked with sesame seeds (dohseiñ) and Jadoh dohkhleh only on a market day. Everybody’s special dinner on market day used to be dohsniang (pork), and the reason was that meat was sold only on the market day.
Traditionally, at least to the Pnar, their calendar comprised only days and seasons, as they had no concept of using dates, but days and seasons only. It is the markets in the region that gave the communities the eight-days-a-week calendar. The days in the week are defined by where the market is happening on that particular day. In the context of the Jowai region, Musiang is the day when the market is held in Jowai, the next day is Muchai when the market is held at Dawki and Shangpung, and Pyngkat is the day when the market is held at Khliehriat. Thymbleiñ is the market day at Khanduli, Hat at Rymbai, Khyllaw at Sutnga, Pynsyiñ at Wahïajer, and Mulong is the last day when the market is at Raliang and Nartiang. Most of the traders visit as many markets as they can; hence, there is the concept of Behïaw or following the market in the community. In the past, there was an organization that did exactly this called ka Seiñ Behïaw, and at one point, it had a fleet of not less than eight buses.
It’s Not Just About Days of the Week
Before Sunday was introduced, the day after a market day was typically a rest day. In the Jowai region, Muchai, the day after Musiang, was traditionally a rest day. It was also considered auspicious for weddings and other celebrations, likely because market goods were readily available the day before.
Since markets occurred only once a week, people ate meat only on a market day and perhaps the following day. Most families could at the most afford meat just twice a week—on Musiang and Khyllaw, the smaller market day.
In those days, when the majority of people still followed traditional religion, their daily lives revolved around market days. Understandably, paydays were scheduled on market days because they were not only convenient for shopping, but also served as social gatherings which also marked the end of the week.
Market Day: A Day for Recreation
Next to Ïawmusiang, there was once a small field in front of the Jaintia Hills Autonomous District Council office, known as Madan Siat Thong, where archery competitions were held on market days. Villages would compete in these games, and until recently, the first day of the Bamphalar Theatrical Festival in Jowai began on market day.
The traditional Mih-ïaw (visit to the market), part of the Bamphalar Festival, used to occur on Muchai. Interestingly, U Kiang Nangbah was also hanged by the British at Ïawmusiang, the premier market of the Jaintia Hills. Market days were also the only time people dressed in their finest and visit the market sometimes just to meet friends or enjoy the atmosphere.
Markets Were Not Meant for Profit Alone
Under the Sixth Schedule of the Indian Constitution, markets fall under the jurisdiction of District Councils. However, in the Jaintia Hills, there are two types of markets: ki ïaw niam (markets with spiritual significance in the Niamtre religion) and District Council markets.
In most cases, the Daloi, or traditional head, collected ka dan ka khat which is a form of tax, on goods brought by outsiders (ki bar elaka). Previously collected in kind, this tax is now paid in cash.
Markets were the economic hubs of their regions, but they were not entirely profit-driven. In ïaw niam, the market area is considered sacred. Sacrifices and prayers are still offered by the Daloi as per tradition. These markets are governed by the principles of ka tip briew tip Blei (respect for fellow humans and God) and ka kamai ïa ka hok (honest livelihood). Even the sale of beef is prohibited in these markets. Traditional markets were more than just places for buying and selling—they were centers of community life, social exchange, and spiritual activity.
Ïewduh and Laban
As we know, Shillong was established by the British around 1862, coinciding with the Jaintia rebellion led by U Kiang Nangbah. Whether the rebellion, and not just the climate, prompted the British to shift the capital from Cherrapunjee to Shillong remains a relevant question. Correspondence between the military officers recorded that on several occasions, the rebels moving along slopes from Jaintia hills were attached Cherrajunjee, but ultimately the capital was moved to Shillong.
Till today, the word “Shillong” was not part of the vocabulary of our grandparents. When they planned a trip there, they said “Lai Laban” or “Leit Laban.” People from Jowai, Nongstoin, and other areas used the same expression.
This suggests that before Shillong’s formal establishment, Laban, or what we now know as Iewdak—was perhaps the most popular market in the region. This raises an important question: Is Ïewduh, the biggest market in the state, also the oldest? While British records mention Yewdoo, oral traditions indicate that Laban may have been more prominent among older generations.
Now the Plan for Ïewduh
The Chief Minister’s decision to brave the rain and visit Ïewduh deserves praise. As someone who frequents Ïewduh, I can say that it takes real courage and skill to navigate its narrow, crowded lanes. The government’s plan to improve Ïewduh is commendable and should be welcomed. However, there’s a catch: how much of the market still belongs to the Syiem or the District Council, and how much is now privately owned?
The proposed plan is ambitious, but its implementation will be a major challenge. How will the government convince private shop owners to cooperate? As they say, this project is going to be easier said than done.