By Bhogtoram Mawroh
A friend told me that the basis of the Syngkhong Rympei Thymmai’s (SRT) approach to the court to allow the adoption of the father’s surname is the premise that such a move should not affect one’s recognition as Khasi so long as the individual carries “Khasi blood.” There must be some technical term used in the actual appeal because an appeal to “Khasi blood” is pure nonsense. There is nothing called “Khasi blood.” There is, however, a genetic marker common across all Khasi groups — viz., Khynriam, Pnar, War, Maram, Lyngngam, and Bhoi — but that marker is also found among other groups belonging to the Austroasiatic language family. This is the Y-chromosomal haplogroup O2a1-M95, which originated in southern China around 20,000–40,000 years ago. By around 5,000–6,000 years ago, populations carrying this marker had reached South Asia, and today one of those groups is known as the Khasi. However, they are not the only ones. The same genetic marker is also carried by the Munda peoples, a collection of different ethnic groups such as the Munda, Santhal, Ho, Bhumij, Kharia, etc., who together number more than 1 crore. So, if we were to go by genetic markers — or colloquially, “blood” — then Adivasi populations would also be eligible for membership in the Khasi community, in the same way that a Khasi would also be eligible for membership in an Adivasi community. Similarly, if we were to strictly follow the logic of “blood,” then individuals from the Tea Tribe communities of Assam (made up largely of Adivasi groups), who number around 60–70 lakhs, should also be allowed to claim ST status as Khasi in Meghalaya and therefore be eligible to buy land and obtain jobs through the State’s Reservation Policy. Ridiculous though that may sound, it is the logical outcome of the “blood” argument.
And, of course, it is a ridiculous argument because the Khasi are different from Adivasi groups despite sharing a common ancestry that goes back thousands of years in South Asia. However, before we go into what actually defines the identity of a Khasi — or, for that matter, any ethnic group — let us first concentrate on the idea of using “blood” to delineate identity.
According to the paper “A Late Neolithic Expansion of Y Chromosomal Haplogroup O2a1-M95 from East to West” by Ganesh Prasad Arunkumar and colleagues, the proportion of Khasi speakers carrying the genetic marker Y-chromosome O2a1-M95 is actually only around 30%. However, in another paper, “Population Genetic Structure in Indian Austroasiatic Speakers: The Role of Landscape Barriers and Sex-Specific Admixture” by Gyaneshwer Chaubey and colleagues, the proportion is estimated at around 70%. The actual figure may lie somewhere in between.
So, it is quite possible that around half or more of those who claim Khasi ancestry do not carry the genetic marker associated with Austroasiatic speakers. These individuals may have originally come from outside the Khasi community but have since been accepted as part of it. What if the members of the SRT who are advocating changes to matrilineal practices are themselves not “Khasi by blood”? Should the High Court then order DNA tests for the petitioners to assess whether they even have the right to file such a PIL in the first place? If they do not carry the genetic marker, should they not be stripped of their ST status, which identifies them as belonging to the Khasi tribe?
But there is another problem. What if a DNA test reveals that an individual’s autosomal ancestry (i.e., ancestry inherited from both sides of the family) is approximately one-third Khasi/Austroasiatic-related, one-third Bengali/Indo-Aryan-related, and one-third Tibeto-Burman-related (e.g., Garo, Kuki, etc.)? Is this person Khasi, Bengali, or Kuki? What should be the minimum percentage required to be considered Khasi — 50% or more? But even if there is 1% admixture from another ancestry, the individual is no longer “pure” Khasi. Do such “impure” individuals have the right to question traditions instituted by the original “pure” Khasi? Should such people also be stripped of their ST status? If the court accepts the argument of “blood,” then it must make DNA testing mandatory for obtaining an ST certificate, with a fixed percentage required to qualify as Khasi, or grants ST status only to those with “uncontaminated Khasi blood.” That might remove more than half — perhaps almost all — present-day Khasis from ST status, but that would be the logical price of preserving the privilege of those claiming exclusive “Khasi blood.”
But if we move away from the argument of “Khasi blood,” we can actually understand what identifies an individual as Khasi. If one were to mention names such as Diengdoh, Laloo, Pariat, Kyndiah, Lamin, Langshiang, Kassar, Suting, Gassah, or Mawthoh, there would be no hesitation among Khasis in recognizing these as Khasi Kur. But if I mention names such as Sharma, Das, Bordoloi, Momin, Imchen, or Ralte, Khasis will immediately identify these surnames as non-Khasi.
Thus, membership in the community depends on whether an individual belongs to a Khasi Kur, and the basis of the Kur is matriliny. All Kurs trace their descent from an ancient ancestress — for example, Ka Iaw Chibidi. This is also the foundation of another Khasi custom, teh-kur, a form of established relationship between two or more Kurs in which intermarriage is prohibited because they trace descent from a common ancestress. In fact, the idea of women founding clans is also embedded in the custom of tang-jait, in which a new Kur is created for a non-Khasi woman marrying into the Khasi community, making her the ancestress of all her descendants, e.g., Kharkongor, Kharmylliem, Kharlukhi, etc.? If patriliny is adopted, what will happen to all these customs? How would one determine who is eligible for marriage and who is not? Customary practices governing succession and inheritance would also need to be redefined.
All these form the basis of Khasi identity because, although the Khasi share ancestry with Austroasiatic groups, they are distinct from them because of their customary practices, which are based on matrilineal traditions. Once that is gone, how does one distinguish the Khasi from other Austroasiatic groups, or even from Tibeto-Burman and Indo-Aryan groups? Since many of these groups also follow patrilineal traditions, could they then claim ST status within the Khasi category if they carry the Y-chromosomal haplogroup O2a1-M95, which some of them indeed do? Khasi men have married outside the community, and many in the past may have assimilated into other ethnic groups as well, something now being revealed through genetic studies. Should a “Ghar Wapsi” then be conducted for such individuals?
But perhaps the most insidious effect that changes in customary norms would have is on our political claims. The current crisis over Block I and Block II must ultimately be settled on the basis of original territorial jurisdiction. Did those areas fall under the administration of a Doloi, or under the Karbi Bangthe? If one looks at the 1961 District Census Handbook: United Mikir and North Cachar Hills, it is clearly mentioned on page 129 that the villages under Block I and Block II were under the jurisdiction of different doloiships — viz., Nartiang, Lalung Nanglung/Nanglong, Mynri, Nongjngi, Jynthong, Shilliang Myntang, Nongphyllut, Rallaing, Shangpung, and the Mynriang Sirdarship. However, the argument from the Karbi side is that Meghalaya had relinquished its claims over these territories. The important point to remember is that the Doloiship is a Khasi institution, and therefore it demonstrates that these areas historically formed part of the domain of the Khasi Syiem of Hima Jaintiapur.
Similarly, many territorial claims may need to be defended in the future, i.e., areas that were always under the traditional Khasi institutions formed within a matrilineal framework. Therefore, the current attempts to weaken or dismantle these institutions — for example, the present crisis in Hima Sohra — in order to politically disenfranchise practitioners of the indigenous faith, may ultimately do more harm than good to the Khasi community, the majority of whom are Christian. If these traditional institutions no longer exist, does that mean that, in the future, areas inhabited by non-Khasis may be integrated with their ethnic counterparts elsewhere? This could mean that villages under Block I and Block II might return to Meghalaya. But what about the villages that were under the Lalung Nanglung/Nanglong Doloiship? The Lalung are not Khasi but refer to the Tiwa, who are more closely related to the Bodos. Would many such villages then be given to the Karbis, Tiwas, or other groups?
These are extremely critical questions, and they may all unravel once we begin tinkering with customary practices and traditional institutions. I am, therefore, deeply concerned about these attempts to undermine our traditions and the institutions that have emerged from them. I believe we should all be concerned about this as well.
(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)
