By Bhogtoram Mawroh
Recently, something extraordinary happened that marked a clear break from tradition. After the demise of Freeman Syiem, the Syiem of Hima Sohra—whom I had met during my PhD—it was expected that the KHADC would appoint Marremdor Syiem as the acting Syiem until elections were held. Instead, the KHADC appointed Mynjurlang Majaw, a Myntri, as the acting Syiem. This was an unprecedented move, since tradition dictates that Marremdor Syiem should assume this role. The Lyngskor may, for a time, take charge of the Hima Dorbar, but the Syiem is always elected from among the Syiem clan, which was specially created for this purpose. This raises an important question: is Mynjurlang Majaw a Lyngskor? And how can he serve as acting Syiem when a Syiem can only come from the Syiem clan? While many individuals may vie for the position of Syiem, this does not include any Lyngskor or Bakhraws, who together make up the Myntris. This break from tradition is not an isolated aberration.
Not long after the VPP took charge of the KHADC, there were murmurs that it would attempt to change matrilineal traditions to suit the personal preference for patrilineality held by its Supremo, Ardent Miller Basaiawmoit—a view also shared by the incumbent Member of Parliament, Ricky Syngkong (Syngkong being his father’s kur). And, indeed, a PIL was filed against the 2024 KHADC Executive Order that amended the Lineage Act, stating that Khasi couples whose children bear the father’s surname would no longer be officially recognised as Khasi. When the KHADC was asked to respond, it sought more time, which was surprising given that it should have been prepared with an immediate response. Will the KHADC put up a strong defence, or will it merely pretend to do so, allowing the Executive Order to be struck down?
Supporters of patrilineality argue that if both parents are Khasi, there should be no issue in recognising someone as Khasi on the supposed grounds that they belong to the “Khasi race” or share a similar genotype (genetic makeup) and phenotype (external appearance) that identifies them as Khasi. There are many problems with this line of argument. First, there is no such thing as a Khasi race. Khasis are an ethnic group, not a race. “Race” was a concept used in the early 20th century by European colonialists to perpetuate the myth of white superiority over other groups, particularly those they colonized, including the Khasi. It is a discarded concept, and clinging to it only reveals ignorance—not only of Khasi history and culture, but also of broader scientific debates. The correct term is ethnicity: people sharing a sense of belonging through cultural similarities. Does this mean that genotype and phenotype do not exist? No, they do exist, but they do not define the identity of a community. The Khasis are a prime example of this.
The Lyngngam are a Khasi subgroup found in the West and South-West Khasi Hills. They appear more Garo than Khasi, and some of their cultural practices resemble those of the Garo rather than the Khasi. Yet, if you ask them, they will always identify themselves as Khasi. Based on linguistic evidence, they are the second-oldest group among the Khasi—older than the Pnar, Khynriam, Bhoi, or Maram—and are therefore, in that sense, more “Khasi” than the others. Why, then, do they resemble the Garo? The answer lies in genetics. The Lyngngam have been found to be a mixed population, with male genetic lineages traced to the Garo and female lineages to the Khasi, specifically the Nongtrai. They speak a Khasi language and follow matrilineal customs closer to those of the Khasi than the Garo. Thus, phenotypically they may resemble the Garo, but linguistically and culturally they are Khasi.
Another example is the Bhoi, who are also a mixed group. In fact, “Bhoi” is still used as a term for Karbi who, over time, adopted the Khasi language and matrilineal customs. This is best illustrated by the phenomenon of surname equivalence. Karbi clans such as Ingti, Ronghang, Hanse, Be, Ingleng, Timung, and Teron are considered blood relatives of Khasi clans like Muktieh, Markhap, Khymdeit, Muker, Lamare, Syngkli, Umbah, and Mynsong, respectively. As a result, members of these clans cannot marry one another for fear of committing sang (taboo). This occurred because when a Karbi became Khasi, they would join the corresponding sister clan among the Khasi to avoid marrying within the same bloodline. Many Karbi lived under Hima Jaintiapur for a long time but later moved to Ahom territory because the Khasi were compelling them to adopt matrilineal customs. Why would the Khasi of old insist on this? Were they not concerned about the “purity” of the Khasi race? To answer this, we must go back 5,000–6,000 years, to when the Khasi first arrived in South Asia.
The Khasi are part of the larger Austroasiatic language family, which includes groups such as the Cambodians and Vietnamese, as well as smaller communities like the Palaung (linguistically the closest to Khasi), Khmu, and Semang. This population originated around the Yangtze River valley in southern China, where they were among the first to domesticate rice. They carried the Y-chromosomal haplogroup O2a1-M95, the genetic signature of the Austroasiatic population, which originated among Daic-speaking populations some 20,000–40,000 years ago.
They migrated into Southeast Asia, mixing with hunter-gatherer populations related to the Onge and Jarawa of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. One group moved south and became the Semang of Malaysia, who speak an Austroasiatic language but have a Negrito appearance. Another group moved west and reached South Asia around 5,000 years ago—these were the Khasi. Archaeological sites at Lum Sohpetbneng and Myrkhan contain tools similar to those found in southern China, dating back around 4,000 years. Around the same time, another group moved further west and mixed with local populations, becoming the Munda, today’s Adivasi communities. Some Khasi families have children from these communities working in their homes. They come from the Assam tea tribes community, but they do not look Khasi at all.
One might argue that the Khasi maintained the “purity” of their race, but this too is untrue. Only about 30% of Khasi males carry the O2a1-M95 marker, while the rest derive from various other genetic sources. Around 40% of Khasi women carry mtDNA of Southeast Asian origin. This means that fewer than 20% of present-day Khasi could be considered “pure” by such criteria; the vast majority have at least one ancestor who was not originally Khasi but became Khasi by adopting matrilineal customs.
The adoption of outsiders and matrilineal traditions are the original Khasi customs brought from southern China and is what distinguishes them from many other South Asian groups. Matrilineal systems, in fact, were once widespread across central and southern China and were also practised by Austronesian peoples. A few years ago, I met a Minangkabau woman and a tribal chief from the Solomon Islands—both from matrilineal societies. One looked Southeast Asian, the other Negrito, yet both were proud of their matrilineal traditions.
A Khasi is someone who regards Khasi as their mother tongue and follows matrilineal traditions, which form the basis of the kur (tip kur tip kha) and the social and cultural practices of the community. Together, these define Khasi identity. One may belong to a Khasi kur, but if one does not speak Khasi or follow matrilineal traditions, then one is not Khasi. The KHADC Executive Order is precisely about this.
Undoing it would create confusion, allowing anyone to claim Khasi identity without any real connection to its culture or history. Is this not what Jaidbynriew-touting groups constantly warn against—non-Khasis taking over? If defining who is Khasi becomes complicated, what happens to Scheduled Tribe status? The Khasi are recognised as an ST because they are a distinct community with unique culture and traditions. Once these traditions are discarded, someone may file another PIL demanding that only those who follow ancient matrilineal customs be eligible for ST status. Those who adopt patrilineal customs may still be called Khasi but not pakka-Khasi and could lose ST recognition. An even more dangerous question arises: if the KHADC order is rescinded, will it apply to the JHADC as well, since the Pnar belong to the larger Khasi group? If not, will it create an internal division—something that will weaken the community?
I suspect that these deviations from tradition are part of a larger game plan. They open up a host of serious problems. Perhaps that is precisely the plan. We will find out very soon.
(The views expressed in the article are those of the author and do not reflect in any way his affiliation to any organisation or institution)
