Dr. Omarlin Kyndiah
By reducing the history of the Jaiñtia people almost entirely to British colonial records, Bhogtoram Mawroh’s article, “Who Are the Jaintia? Colonial Records and the Question of Khasi Identity” (The Shillong Times, 2 April), makes a fundamental historical error. Colonial records are valuable sources, but they are not the sole authority on indigenous identity. They reflect the administrative priorities, linguistic limitations, and political assumptions of British officials rather than the self-understanding of the communities they described.
The concern behind this response is not merely academic disagreement but a growing tendency among some writers to question Jaiñtia identity whenever the community asserts its constitutional, cultural, or historical distinctiveness. Instead of engaging with legitimate concerns regarding recognition of that identity, some continue to argue that “Jaiñtia” is merely a geographical term and that the community is simply a branch of the Khasi. This claim is neither new nor persuasive.
The principal weakness in Mawroh’s argument is the assumption that because British officials often described the inhabitants of the Jaintia Hills as “Khasi,” the question of ethnic identity is settled. It is not. Across British India, administrators routinely grouped diverse indigenous communities under broad labels for ease of governance. Such classifications were administrative conveniences, not ethnographic truths, and they cannot override the historical identities of the communities concerned.
Even within Mawroh’s own argument, he acknowledges that British records also placed Tiwas, Karbis, and other groups within the Jaintia Hills. By his logic, should these communities also lose their distinct identities? Clearly not. Administrative inclusion within a territory has never erased ethnic or cultural distinction.
The Jaiñtia identity predates colonial administration. A district does not create a people; rather, a people give their name to a territory. The modern districts of East and West Jaintia Hills, as well as the earlier colonial Jaintia Hills District, were created long after the community already existed. The British did not invent the Jaiñtia people; they merely adopted an existing ethnonym for administrative purposes. Historical and linguistic evidence points to much older origins. Scholars have traced the Jaiñtia people to Austro-Asiatic or Mon-Khmer-speaking populations who settled in Northeast India centuries before British rule. Variants such as T’sin-taing, T’sin-tein, Zyntein, and Synteng illustrate the gradual evolution of the ethnonym through normal linguistic change. Such transformations indicate continuity rather than invention.
Professor B. Pakem notes that the origins of the Jaiñtia people have long attracted scholarly attention. He discusses theories of eastern migration among Austro-Asiatic-speaking groups, while some Burmese traditions suggest movements from the west. He also refers to broader anthropological discussions linking Austro-Asiatic-speaking populations to ancient Proto-Australoid branches.
According to traditions discussed by Pakem, the ancestors of the Hynniewtrep undertook long migratory movements through regions including Palestine, Egypt, Ethiopia, ancient Mesopotamia, northern India, and southern China before dispersing into Southeast Asia. One branch is believed to have settled among the Mons in Burma, whose cultural affinities with the Jaiñtias have often been observed. From there they are said to have crossed the Kupli River into present-day Jaintia Hills around the third century BCE. Pakem further records traditions of later migration under leaders such as U Shyllong, leading to settlement in areas like Sohphohlynrum.
Not every aspect of these migration narratives is universally accepted. Their importance lies in demonstrating that scholars have consistently situated the origins of the Jaiñtia people in deep antiquity rather than in colonial administrative records.
Linguist Suniti Kumar Chatterjee proposed that “Synteng” may originally have been pronounced as Zainteiñ or Zanten before evolving through Sanskritisation into forms such as Jayanta or Jayanti. This suggests that “Jaintia” or “Jayantia” developed through linguistic adaptation rather than originating as a Sanskrit place name. In this interpretation, the people came first, and political or territorial names followed.
Mawroh reverses this sequence by suggesting that the ethnonym derives primarily from Jaintiapur or the deity Jayanteshwari. This remains speculative and finds little support in linguistic evidence, which more commonly shows places deriving their names from peoples rather than peoples from places.
There is also a tendency in his article to repeatedly question the term “Jaiñtia” itself, as though sustained etymological doubt could weaken an established historical identity. However, historical identity is not undone by repetition of scepticism. Sound inquiry must evaluate evidence broadly rather than focus narrowly on one disputed interpretation.
It would also be useful if Mawroh explained the origin and historical development of the word “Khasi” itself. If the legitimacy of an ethnic identity is to be tested through the history of its name, then the same scholarly standard should apply consistently. If the writer insists on dissecting the origin of “Jaiñtia,” he should also be prepared to explain the equally debated origin of “Khasi” using the same scholarly standard. The origin of “Khasi” has likewise been debated, with no universally accepted explanation. A balanced discussion should therefore examine the histories of both names with equal rigour instead of treating one as settled and the other as doubtful. Such an approach would give readers a fairer understanding of the complex history of Meghalaya’s indigenous tribes.
Evidence for the antiquity of the Jaiñtia people extends beyond colonial archives. Chinese chronicles such as the Shung-Shu (5th century CE) have been linked by some scholars to political formations in the Kapili region associated with early Jaintia polities. Whether or not every interpretation is accepted, such references indicate organised political structures in the region long before British classification.
Archaeology reinforces this continuity. Stone boundary pillars marking the extent of the former Jaintia Kingdom, including those preserved near Jamunagaon in present-day Assam, testify to established territorial authority. Such monuments reflect organised governance, not colonial invention. Political boundaries arise because communities exercise authority over land, not because colonial districts create identities.
Oral traditions likewise preserve histories of migration, settlement, lineage, and kingship across generations. Modern historiography recognises oral tradition as a legitimate historical source when critically examined alongside archaeology, linguistics, and written evidence. Indigenous history cannot be dismissed simply because it was not first recorded by colonial administrators.
A particularly revealing aspect of Mawroh’s argument is his reliance on British references to U Kiang Nangbah as a “Khasi” rebel. This reflects colonial categorisation rather than indigenous self-identification. British officials frequently applied broad ethnic labels for administrative convenience without recognising internal distinctions among indigenous communities. Equally revealing is their description of U Kiang Nangbah as a “rebel”- a term that served the colonial state, whereas history recognises him as a freedom fighter who resisted foreign rule. Mawroh’s acceptance of this colonial terminology raises an important question: why privilege the language and classifications of the colonial administration instead of examining the political intent and bias behind them?
Ironically, the uprising led by U Kiang Nangbah (1860–62) was itself a response to British interference in the religious and cultural life of the Jaintia Hills. It was a struggle to defend indigenous institutions, customary practices, and political autonomy. To privilege colonial terminology while overlooking the indigenous context of that resistance is to elevate administrative classification above historical reality. It is equally inaccurate to argue that linguistic affinity alone determines identity. Even if Khasi and Jaiñtia share linguistic roots, language families do not define singular ethnic identities. Norwegians, Swedes, and Danes share North Germanic origins yet remain distinct peoples. Spaniards and Italians belong to the Romance language family but retain separate identities. Assamese and Bengalis are both Indo-Aryan speakers while remaining distinct communities. Linguistic relationship does not erase cultural, political, or historical distinction.
Ethnic identity is shaped by much more than language. It encompasses political history, customary law, social institutions, religion, collective historical experience, and above all, self-identification. Any attempt to reduce Jaiñtia identity solely to linguistic classification ignores these broader dimensions.
Attempts to subsume Jaiñtia identity are not new. In the 1950s, proposals to discontinue the Jaintia Programme on All India Radio Shillong were firmly opposed by Sein Jaintia Shillong, recognising its importance for cultural representation. The programme survived because of community resistance. Similar concerns have been expressed over attempts to subsume the indigenous faith Niamtre under a broader “Niam Khasi” framework. While unity among indigenous peoples is desirable, it cannot come at the cost of erasing distinct traditions. Niamtre possesses its own rituals, priesthood, cosmology, and historical development within Jaiñtia society.
These examples reveal a recurring pattern. Whenever the Jaiñtia community asserts its distinct identity, that identity is sometimes questioned or minimised. Yet history repeatedly demonstrates that communities preserve their identity not by dissolving it but by defending it. Indigenous peoples across the world continue reclaiming names and histories once flattened by colonial classifications.
None of this denies the close relationship between Khasi and Jaiñtia peoples. They share ancient linguistic connections, geographical proximity, and centuries of interaction. Shared ancestry, however, does not require uniform identity. Mutual respect is strengthened by recognising difference rather than erasing it.
The central question is not whether colonial records referred to Jaiñtia people as “Khasi.” The real question is whether such records should override archaeology, linguistics, oral traditions, political history, and the community’s own understanding of its identity. Clearly, they should not. Colonial records are one source among many; they are not the final authority.
Historical reconstruction must rest upon multiple forms of evidence rather than selective reliance on administrative documents. To privilege colonial classification over indigenous history is to reproduce precisely the limitations of colonial knowledge that modern scholarship has long sought to overcome.
The Jaiñtia people possess documented histories of migration and political development, a distinct cultural heritage, a recognised language, unique religious traditions, and a continuous historical record predating British rule. Their identity is neither a colonial construction nor a mere geographical label. The land bears the name because the people bore it first.
To reduce Jaiñtia identity to an administrative category is not only historically inaccurate; it diminishes a living heritage. A people with such deep historical roots cannot be understood through colonial labels alone but only through a comprehensive reading of archaeology, linguistics, oral traditions, political history, and lived cultural reality.
