By Dr Omarlin Kyndiah
In a world increasingly driven by spectacle and speed, where festivals are often packaged for mass appeal and economic benefit, there remains a quiet, sacred space where celebration is not just an event but a living expression of identity, belief, and continuity. This space is occupied by religious festivals — deeply rooted cultural performances that carry the weight of myth, memory, and meaning. One such festival, rich in symbolism and spiritual significance, is the Behdienkhlam Festival of the Jaintia people in Meghalaya.
Festivals, in their most basic form, are moments of collective joy, shared traditions, and communal gatherings. They mark time, celebrate change, and honour both the seen and unseen forces that shape human existence. Yet not all festivals are created equal. While many have evolved into instruments of tourism and development, others remain anchored in ancient beliefs and rituals, serving as vessels of cultural preservation rather than commercial gain. The distinction between these two forms — festival tourism and religious festivals — reveals much about how we understand culture, community, and the sacred.
Festival tourism has become a popular strategy for states across India to promote regional heritage while boosting local economies. Events like the Monolith Festival, Autumn Festival or Cherry Blossom Festival et al in Meghalaya are grandly organized affairs, complete with government sponsorship, elaborate stage setups, and vibrant displays of dance and music aimed at attracting tourists. These festivals offer employment opportunities, showcase local talent, and put lesser-known regions on the national map. However, they also raise concerns about authenticity and sustainability. It is here that the value of religious festivals becomes evident. Unlike their secular counterparts, religious festivals are not merely events; they are experiences woven into the fabric of belief systems, passed down through generations. They are not staged for visitors but lived by communities. Their power lies not in their visual splendour alone, but in their ability to connect people with their ancestors, their gods, and their land.
The Behdienkhlam Festival, celebrated by the Jaintias of Meghalaya, exemplifies this kind of deep-rooted celebration. It is more than a festival; it is a retelling of origin myths, a reaffirmation of faith, and a ritual enactment of divine promises. At its heart lies the story of U Syiem Lakriah and the descent of the Niaw Wasa (Seven Huts) from heaven to earth via the golden ladder known as Ka Tangnoob Tangjri. This mythological narrative is not simply a tale told around fires; it is the foundation of the Jaintia worldview, encapsulating their understanding of creation, morality, and the relationship between the divine and the earthly.
According to the legend, God U Tre Kirot created the universe in three layers — Soorkep (the heavens), Bneiñ (the middle realm), and Sla Khyndaw Pyrthai (Earth). He desired to bring the Niaw Wasa to Earth to live and prosper. But Earth was barren until the goddesses Ka Bei Rymaw and Ka Bei Wabooh brought soil and life to it. Only then could the Niaw Wasa settle and thrive. During a Divine Assembly (Dorbar Blai), God bestowed upon them the laws of life — the principles of Niamtre, the indigenous religion of the Jaintias. He promised to visit them once a year, asking only for a dance in return — a gesture of joy, gratitude, and connection. That promise lives on in the Behdienkhlam Festival.
Celebrated during the monsoon season after sowing, Behdeinkhlam carries agricultural significance as well. It includes rituals to ward off evil spirits, ensure good harvests, and protect the community from natural calamities. Offerings are made to ancestral spirits and deities, symbolizing a continuous dialogue between the living and the divine. Ritual food is prepared and shared, not just as nourishment but as a symbolic bridge between worlds. The dances, chants, and processions are not mere entertainment — they are acts of devotion, reenactments of divine encounters, and affirmations of communal identity.
What makes Behdienkhlam particularly powerful is its role in preserving the kinship structures and spiritual values of the Jaintia people. It is during this festival that the emergence of the Sookpoh Clan — the founding lineage of the Jaintias — is honored, along with the sacred leaders known as Ki Khatso Wasan. The festival thus functions not only as a religious observance but also as a historical record, a cultural anchor, and a moral compass.
In contrast to the fleeting excitement of festival tourism, Behdeinkhlam offers lasting meaning. It reminds us that festivals are not just occasions for celebration but opportunities for reflection, renewal, and remembrance. They help communities stay connected to their roots, especially in an era where globalization and modernization threaten to erode traditional ways of life.
There is no doubt that festivals can serve multiple purposes — cultural, economic, and social. Tourism-driven festivals have their place in promoting regional identities and generating income. But if we are to truly appreciate the richness of our diverse heritage, we must also make space for those festivals that speak to the soul rather than the senses. We must recognize that behind every chant, every offering, and every dance step lies a story — a story of who we are, where we come from, and what binds us together.
As the rain falls over the Jaintia Hills and the rhythmic beats of drums echo through the valleys, the Behdeinkhlam Festival continues to remind its people — and anyone willing to listen — that some stories are too important to be forgotten. In honouring their gods, their ancestors, and their land, the Jaintias do not merely celebrate a festival. They uphold a legacy, breathe life into myth, and keep alive a world that, though ancient, still pulses with meaning today.