Are we not all prospective migrants? Does an artificial construct of a line drawn on a map decide rules of belonging? What happens when the line shifts? Livelihood changes as do the rules and regulations of living in geographical spaces.
Such is the story of the Mikir tribe who reside in a village called Pahampadem in Ri-Bhoi now and trace their ancestral roots to Karbi Anglong in erstwhile undivided Assam. Their forefathers moved here years ago, having settled in the village and the areas surrounding it. They call this place their home.
Tucked amidst green paddy fields lies Pahampadem; most houses in the village are kutcha houses with a distinct identity.
On reaching the point leading to the village, an ever-smiling kong serves tea with jingbam (food) in her tiny shop, overlooking the spread of lush green paddy fields. Especially on a rainy day, this has a mesmerising effect.
As you take the left turn to move further into the village, you see a bamboo structure with dried hay on the top, similar to a lot of houses, but open on both sides. It is on a raised platform and is known as the ïing khynraw (smaller court) by the locals.
The structure serves as a youth dormitory and also a court. As soon as the boys of Pahampadem turn 18, they are to shift to the dormitory, which is located at the entrance of the village, in a bid to be trained on how to become better individuals and also serve as protectors of the village.
They’re required to sleep in the dormitory at night until they get married and then move to their wife’s home. They then protect the village at night from anti-social elements while everybody else sleeps peacefully.
This tradition is exclusive to the Bhoi Mikirs. One can draw a parallel of this custom to the Morung in Nagaland and the Garos in Meghalaya that also serves a similar purpose of grooming and training boys who turn 18.
The Mikirs are a peace-loving community, and unlike the major tribes in the state, follow the patrilineal system where the girl takes the name of the man after marriage. Property is transferred to the men in the family.
Another interesting ceremony they still adhere to revolves around marriage. When the guy gets married to the girl, he has to stay with her family for two years before moving out. While leaving, he has to buy gifts for his wife’s family – rice and vegetables, among others – and according to his economic ability.
The locals are fluent in Khasi, but their mother tongue is Mikir.
On further enquiry about their mother tongue and how different Mikir is from Khasi, Wonkes Tikra, the former headman of Pahampadem shrugged. One could sense some nervousness in his voice.
Nonetheless, he asserted, “We have been staying here for years now, this is our home. We are the Bhoi Mikirs, and are as much Khasis as the others in here.”
The ïing khynraw served as a court for relatively smaller crimes, with the headman along with village elders serving as the jury, but if there was no conclusion in the smaller court, the case moved to the ïing sad or the bigger court – the traditional ceremonial house of the village.
The ïing sad is located in the centre of the village and stands witness to the rituals and customs of the tribe as per traditions laid down by the forefathers. It is where the Bong Thai (king) – who has four neighbouring villages under his supervision – takes the final call on the nature of punishment handed to the convicted.
Tikra narrated and explained the essence of the ceremonial house.
Embracing the ancient customs and rituals passed down through generations, Pahampadem serves as a living tribute to its ancestors. The meticulously arranged display of pig jaws can be seen on the left as one enters the ceremonial house. If proven guilty of a crime, the punishment includes donating a pig as a bond.
These traditions signify a deep reverence for the past and a commitment to preserving cultural practices now and in the future.
Beyond its cultural significance, Pahampadem boasts of a lesser-known achievement that sets it apart from most communities – a remarkably low crime rate. Tikra said, “If my memory serves me right, the last crime reported in the village was two years ago.
In a world where security is often a concern, this village is extraordinary.
In Pahampadem, trust flourishes. The notion of locked doors is a relic of a distant past, as the community thrives on the unique belief, rooted in openness and interconnectedness.
This achievement is a testament to the tight-knit community of the village, where neighbours look out for one another and a strong sense of unity prevails. It is not uncommon to witness a genuine spirit of collaboration and care among its residents, creating an atmosphere that cultivates trust and mutual respect.
The Rishot Blei or sacred pillar stands at the entrance of the house. The first section of ïing sad showcases shields and swords that were once used by warriors. The same room also houses the musical instruments used by the villagers on special occasions, including different kinds of drums – ksing, bom, dhah.
The musical culture and the traditional musical instruments are very similar to the Khasis. Both communities share a deep reverence for the power of music as a means of expression, celebration, and storytelling. Passed down through generations, these songs carry within them the essence of their history, beliefs, and aspirations.
Tikra guided us to the main room that had another sacred pillar inside, from where paddy hung. He said, “This is the first harvested paddy that is hung here for traditional purposes. When this year’s paddy is harvested, this will be taken off and the fresh harvest will be hung.”
The sacred house is constructed with straw, bamboo, mud and iron nails. He further mentioned that the tribe believes in the deity of land and water,
Pynsum Masi, a tradition passed down by the forefathers, is a vibrant agricultural festival that breathes life into the rhythm of the land, marking a pivotal moment in the annual cycle of the Bhoi Mikirs. They honour their deep-rooted connection with the earth and the bountiful harvest that awaits.
The Basan Nongskeh, Raid Nongkharai, mentioned that this agricultural festival is of utmost importance to the Mikirs. They do not touch any agricultural equipment before the conclusion of the week-long festival, as this is considered to be an earnest prayer to the gods to ensure that they receive a bountiful harvest.
Dressed up in the handwoven shawl for the festival, an elated Basan mentioned how this harvest festival is the equivalent of Bihu, and serves as a community get together, forging bonds of camaraderie and strengthening the social fabric of their community.
It concludes with the four villages under the Raid coming together to bathe the cattle as a way to recognise their contribution to agriculture. The concluding day is Pynsum Masi, that roughly translates to “bathing the cows”.
The villagers give their cattle a wash in the small canal that passes through the fields of Pahampadem. The caretaker guides the path with a stick pricked with turmeric and pumpkin (pathaw iong). Interestingly, the number of pieces in the stick tells the number of cows owned by a particular village.
The festival serves as a catalyst, infusing their spirits with a deep sense of gratitude and responsibility towards the land that sustains them. It is a reminder that their journey is not just one of toil and labour, but an intricate dance with nature, a symphony in which they are both participants and custodians.
In the enchanting realms of the Bhoi Mikirs and Khasis, we have discovered a world where culture, tradition, and kinship intertwine. These two indigenous communities, distinct yet kindred, share a tapestry of similarities that weave a narrative of connection and shared experiences.
Let the echoes of their songs, the footsteps of their dances, and the bonds of their kinship inspire us to celebrate our own roots and appreciate the vibrant tapestry of cultures that envelops our world. In the embrace of our shared humanity, may we find unity, respect, and a renewed appreciation for the intricate mosaic of traditions that shape our heritage.