Uma Purkaystha

Rebirth After the Quake

The 1897 earthquake didn’t just level buildings in Shillong; it shook the very foundations of the young hill station. The ground heaved and twisted, sending shockwaves through the hearts of its residents. Homes built in the traditional wattle-and-daub style collapsed like woven baskets. Even newer brick structures crumbled, their grandeur reduced to piles of rubble and dust. Yet, amidst the devastation, the indomitable spirit of Shillong’s people refused to be extinguished.

In the immediate aftermath, survivors faced a stark reality. Makeshift shelters dotted the landscape, the cries of the injured mingled with the sobs of those who had lost everything. The British administration, though focused on restoring its own authority, seemed oblivious to the plight of the local populace. There was no organized medical aid, no sanitation, and a looming threat of disease hung in the air.

Shillong, the seat of colonial power in Assam, lacked the most basic infrastructure to function as a modern city. Yet, a peculiar resilience took root. The earthquake had forced a reset, a chance to rebuild Shillong not just in its physical form, but in its very soul. The characteristic Assam-type houses, with their raised platforms and timber frames designed to withstand seismic activity, began to spring up. Government buildings – residences, offices, the iconic Quinton Hall – were constructed with sturdier materials, imposing symbols of the return of order.

But the outward signs of recovery masked a deeper struggle. While a semblance of normalcy slowly returned to the streets, a critical void remained. Among the thousands who had weathered the earthquake, one question burned fiercely, especially in the minds of the local Khasi and Bengali communities: Where would their children learn? Where would they become the doctors, engineers, and leaders needed to build a future worthy of the sacrifices made?

The British government, content with imposing buildings, seemed indifferent to building minds. With no primary schools in the entire Khasi & Jaintia Hills, education remained an elusive privilege. Those with means faced the agonizing choice of sending their young children on a treacherous journey to distant Sylhet, the nearest center of learning. For the vast majority, this was impossible, condemning generations to a cycle of limited opportunities. Yet, from this dire landscape, a spark of determination ignited – a spark that would soon illuminate the path toward Shillong’s transformation into a beacon of education and culture.

 The Fight for Education

Among Shillong’s visionaries, none understood the transformative power of education more keenly than Babu Jeebon Kumar Roy of Shella. Born into a family that valued learning, he had the rare fortune of studying in mission schools and mastering several languages. His experiences, coupled with his role as an interpreter, exposed him to a world of ideas far beyond the hills of his homeland. Jeebon Roy realized that literacy was not just a means to personal advancement; it held the key to unlocking the potential of the Khasi and Jaintia people.

From 1875 onwards, he tirelessly petitioned the British government to establish schools in Shillong. His pleas, filled with both logic and passion, fell on deaf ears. Bureaucratic apathy and veiled indifference hinted at a darker truth: perhaps the colonial powers preferred their subjects to remain uneducated, and therefore easier to control. Unbowed, Jeebon Roy boldly decided to defy the system that had ignored him.

In a move that demonstrated both his resourcefulness and defiance, he poured his own funds into establishing the Zillah School. Undeterred by the British government’s demand for a hefty caution money deposit, he found the means to satisfy them. In September 1878, the Zillah School opened its doors, the first High English School in the Khasi & Jaintia Hills. It was an act of extraordinary faith; Jeebon Roy was gambling not just his finances, but his reputation on the belief that his people thirsted for knowledge.

The British, convinced of the venture’s imminent failure, were caught off guard when the school filled to capacity. Students from across the region flocked to its classrooms. Seeking to consolidate their control, the government proposed a merger with the existing missionary school. Jeebon Roy, ever astute, seized this opportunity, but only on one condition: the new institution must admit students from all local tribes without discrimination. This seemingly small demand was a revolutionary act, ensuring that opportunity was not determined by birth or privilege.

Thus, the Shillong Government Boys’ High School was born, its true founder the tireless visionary, Jeebon Kumar Roy. The school flourished, producing graduates who broke barriers and challenged the limitations placed on them. Among them was Jeebon Roy’s own son, Sib Charan Roy, who became the first Khasi student to pass the prestigious Entrance Examination (SSLC) conducted by Calcutta University. It was a victory not just for a father, but for the countless young men and women who now saw a path forward that had been previously unimaginable. As Bijoya Sawian, Jeebon Roy’s great-granddaughter, poignantly observes, “This school became the doorway to higher education in the Khasi and Jaintia Hills.” Indeed, its ripples would spread throughout the region, inspiring and enabling generations to come.

Women as Catalysts of Change

While men like Jeebon Roy fought for formal education, a parallel movement focused on social and intellectual upliftment was being spearheaded by the women of the Brahmmo Samaj. This progressive religious and social reform movement had found fertile ground in Shillong, attracting enlightened Bengalis and local Khasi converts alike. Brahmmo women understood that true progress transcended classrooms; it required empowering individuals and communities at every level.

Guided by luminaries like Hemanta Kumari Chaudhury, these women ventured into neighboring Khasi villages. They defied social norms by imparting practical skills like sewing and knitting, creating economic opportunities for village women. But their mission went beyond crafts – they taught English alphabets, opening doors to a world of knowledge and communication. Medicine and clothing were offered to those most in need, weaving a vital thread of compassion through their work.

One exceptional figure, Sarada Manjuri Dutta, embodied the spirit of this movement. A young Sylheti woman married into a Shillong family, she was moved by the sight of local children wasting their days in idleness. Possessed of extraordinary determination, she began teaching them the basics of reading and writing right in her own home. Word spread like wildfire, and soon the enthusiastic response overwhelmed her modest dwelling. With the support of Sadayacharan Das, a prominent figure in the community, she moved the classes to larger quarters.

This was the humble genesis of what would become the Government Girls’ Higher Secondary School in Jailroad, Shillong. Formally established in 1886, it stands as a testament to Sarada Manjuri’s unwavering belief in the potential of girls to not just learn, but to lead. The school faced its own hurdles – the disastrous 1897 earthquake destroyed the original building. Yet, Sarada Manjuri rebuilt it in Laban, ensuring continuity of education even amidst upheaval.

The women of the Brahmmo Samaj didn’t confine themselves to teaching. They established the Shillong Mahila Samiti, a pioneering women’s organization devoted to social welfare. Their crowning achievement was founding the Raja Ram Mohan Roy Library in 1922, providing a public space where anyone, regardless of gender or background, could access the boundless power of books.

These women faced unique challenges. The 1905 partition of Bengal and the temporary shifting of Assam’s capital to Dacca disrupted their work. Many, including Sarada Manjuri, were forced to leave their beloved Shillong. It was a painful setback, but their spirit was unquenchable. When the capital returned eight years later, so did Sarada Manjuri. Picking up the torch once more, she confronted social ills like the rampant wine shop in Laban, fearlessly leading a delegation of Mahila Samiti members to the Chief Commissioner. Her eloquent pleas resulted in concrete action – the shop’s closure, the establishment of a much-needed maternity and child welfare center, and the upgrading of the local school to offer English language instruction. Their unwavering advocacy left a lasting mark on Shillong, shaping it into a city that valued not just progress, but the well-being of its most vulnerable.

 Swami Vivekananda’s Transformative Visit

Shillong, in the early 20th century, was an unconventional choice for a spiritual luminary. Though growing in infrastructure, it lacked the polish of major Indian cities. Yet, it was precisely this spirit of resilience and burgeoning potential that drew Swami Vivekananda to its heights in 1901.

Rejecting the hospitality of the Chief Commissioner, Sir Henry Cotton, Vivekananda chose to stay with his countryman, Kailash Chandra Das, in Laban. This gesture signaled his solidarity with the common people, emphasizing that he was a man of India, not just a guest of the ruling elite. Though his health was failing, Vivekananda engaged in deeply insightful conversations with Sir Henry, lamenting, “I had many things to do for my countrymen, but time is very short!” The urgency in his voice reflected the weight of his mission and his awareness of his limited time.

On April 27th, the newly renovated Quinton Hall resonated with a historic gathering. Swami Vivekananda delivered a powerful address, with Sir Henry Cotton presiding and numerous British officials in attendance. Opening his speech with “Life is a pilgrimage, Kamakashya to Kanyakumarika or Chicago to Shillong,” Vivekananda emphasized the universality of the human quest for meaning.

His message transcended mere ritualistic religion. He advocated for the integration of spirituality with education, particularly vocational training, to empower individuals to become self-reliant. Throughout his address, he seamlessly interwove Sanskrit verses from the Vedas, meticulously translating their profound meaning for his diverse audience. This act demonstrated his deep respect for India’s ancient wisdom and his desire to make it accessible to all, fostering a sense of shared cultural heritage.

While the speech itself was not meticulously recorded, its essence resonated powerfully. Babu Hormuroy Diengdoh, who witnessed this landmark event, expressed: “We were completely mesmerized…we felt only that he is a man of ours. No one before him interacted with us so intimately and keenly.” Swami Vivekananda’s words ignited a spark, echoing the work of local pioneers striving for educational and social progress.

The legacy of that day lives on in Shillong. While the Ramakrishna Mission, inspired by Vivekananda’s teachings, plays a vital role in the region’s development, a poignant echo is found in the work of the Ramakrishna Vivekananda Cultural Centre. Housed within the very Quinton Hall where Swami Vivekananda spoke, the center offers invaluable computer training, fulfilling his vision of equipping people with practical skills for self-empowerment in the modern age.

Tragically, just a year after his visit, Swami Vivekananda passed away in 1902. Yet, the seeds he had sown in Shillong continued to sprout. The message of education as not just knowledge but as a tool for transformation found fertile ground in those who sought to build a vibrant future for their city and their people. The ripple effects of his presence can still be felt in the countless lives shaped by the institutions and ideals that found a home in Shillong.

Lasting Legacy: Education, Culture, and Social Progress

The tireless work of Jeebon Roy, Sarada Manjuri Dutta, the pioneering Brahmmo community, and countless others paved the way for Shillong’s reputation as an educational and cultural hub of the Northeast. Their sacrifices and unwavering belief in progress created a fertile ground for Swami Vivekananda’s powerful message to take root and flourish. Inspired by these ideals, the Ramakrishna Mission became a driving force in the region, establishing schools, providing healthcare, and nurturing the spiritual and cultural aspirations of the people.

Over the decades, Shillong has witnessed extraordinary growth. Schools, colleges, libraries, and cultural centers now dot its landscape, a testament to the vision of those early pioneers. These institutions are not just buildings; they represent the triumph of knowledge over adversity, of enlightenment over ignorance. They are places where countless young minds have been ignited, where dreams have been given the tools to become reality.

The legacy of Shillong’s early champions is visible in its vibrant intellectual and social fabric. The city boasts a rich tapestry of cultures and traditions, a willingness to embrace change while honoring its unique history. The spirit of inquiry and self-improvement, first kindled in those makeshift classrooms and community gatherings, continues to inspire new generations.

From the ashes of the earthquake rose a city defined not just by its infrastructure but by the boundless potential of its people. Shillong serves as a potent reminder that true development is rooted in education, social upliftment, and the unwavering belief that knowledge can change the world, one life at a time.

Arup Saikia

Since the beginning of human life, beyond gathering food, other parts of human nature have been growing too. Every human and animal has some instinctual desire or nature. It might differ from one to another, but overall, it’s similar. Culture comes from playing and interacting with others. Enjoying time with our own kind is the earliest and purest form of culture. Back in the Stone Age, hunting methods were shown in nomadic camps, often using whole body movements and tools resembling weapons. This was the first form of performing arts in human history. Over time, as people evolved, different ethnic groups with their own cultures appeared. All traditional cultures come from this origin.

The northeastern part of India is like a small version of this. It has as many diverse groups as the rest of India or even some parts of the world. We’re focusing here on the traditional culture of Assam, particularly the revolutionary aspects of Assamese folk art – Bhaona, performed in a foreign language (English).

Bhaona is central to Assam’s culture. In medieval Assam, when political unrest and bad religious practices were causing division, Sankardev, a 15th-century polymath, started the Bhakti Movement. Simply put, the Bhakti movement promoted equality and brotherhood, awakening the Assamese to a renaissance.

Bhaona is a result of the Bhakti or Vaishnavite movement. After Sankardev’s death, monasteries, prayer houses, and individuals played key roles in developing Ankiya Bhaona into various forms. Despite many challenges, different kinds of Bhaona have emerged, like Dhura, Fouzi, Matribhasha, Buka, Hazari, Baresohoria, and others. The latest is Bhaona in English, known as English Bhaona.

CONCEPT

English Bhaona comes from the rich culture of Jamugurihat in the Sonitpur district. It was inspired by the famous Baresohoria Bhaona. A descendant of Sankardev, Hukai Dekagiri, started the first Baresohoria Bhaona (People’s Bhaona) in Jamugurihat in 1797. The excitement of the people and the high quality of the performances made me, as the leader of Prajanmya Unmesh, want to share it with the world. It’s important to mention that Prajanmya Unmesh is a well-known group focused on culture, and its team has been showing English Bhaona in India and other countries. But at first, we wondered where and how we should perform it. Would people who are not from Assam or even India understand Bhaona’s original Brajawali language well?

SINGAPORE CONNECTION

Back in early 2017, we went to Singapore for a cultural seminar. Besides the seminar, while visiting the famous Merlion park in Singapore, we saw a Chinese group performing a traditional drama. They were dressed in a way that reminded us of Assamese Bhaona, with similar crowns and loose outer clothes. The women wore dresses like the Bodo-Kachari style from Assam but with a Mongolian look. Their drama was different from Bhaona because it wasn’t about religion but everyday life. The plot was light and funny, involving one actor hiding another actor’s things. The villains were not as scary as in our Bhaona.

The cultural and biological similarities between northeast India and Southeast Asian countries are clear. Saint Sankardev used local materials for Bhaona, like costumes, music, and dance. Even though we were in another country, it felt like we were not far from Assam, India.

(a)  LANGUAGE FACTOR:  The actors were throwing dialogue in their vernacular Chinese language. Simultaneously, interpretation was also going on, only of substance. As we keenly observed, the non-Chinese spectators were equally not enthusiastic while enjoying the drama. Virtually, interpretation can’t equally sustain the original tempo of a drama. Curiously we were compelled to ask fellow Chinese spectators about the theme and suspense of the drama.

This is actually a mini version of Assamese Bhaona done by Chino-Mongolian people. China and nearby countries are the ancestors’ land of some Assamese. We enjoyed it. But language was posing a barrier between us.

(b)  ENGLISH LANGUAGE:  The original striking feature of Bhaona is in the Brajawali language. Brajawali is an admixture of many eastern Indian languages like Maithili, Oriya, Prakrit, Bengali, etc. This is Sankardev’s effort to synthesize a common language that would be easily understood by all linguistic groups of eastern India. Thereby to reach out intensively beyond the borders of Assam. Imitating the footsteps of Sankardev, we have selected the English language, which on the other hand, can greatly enhance the extent of its reach across the globe. Not only English but also other languages, including Russian, were taken later in very few shows. This way, after Brajawali and Matribhashar Bhaona, English Bhaona was born.

 SCRIPT & PREPARATION

“Udyog Parva,” the fifth epic of Mahabharata, was selected for the first performance. As the political capital of our country, New Delhi was chosen for wider publicity. I have directed the Bhaona and translated the script also. Ms. Girimallika Saikia and Ms. Gitimallika Baidya discharged their responsibility as joint coordinators. Artists were obtained from among the students of senior secondary schools and colleges having brilliant academic careers. Selecting artists of the new generation having cultural backgrounds is really a tough job.

Rehearsal had been done almost for two and a half months. Being the first Bhaona in the English language by local artists, people were very excited, including media houses. Almost all regional and national media extensively covered Bhaona news. Media persons named it as English Bhaona.

PERFORMANCE

On 15th September 2018, Srimanta Sankardev Bhawan, New Delhi, was selected as the venue for our show. Dr. Kapila Vatsyayan, a renowned scholar of international fame, inaugurated the event. She is also a Rockefeller, Padma Vibhushan, and Sankardev awardee, besides many more to mention. The environment of the venue was bustling in the evening. Back home, people were watching a live telecast. Dr. Kapila Vatsyayan in her brief speech after the end of the show said, “It’s an English adaptation of Mahabharata. Not only the dialogue but also songs, laments (Bilap) were all in English. The extraordinary features of Bhaona–entry and exit of actors’ footsteps synchronizing to the tune of English-rendered songs. This is really amazing and it’s emphasized to preserve the roles and regulations of Bhaona with sequence. I have seen, only language is The actors spoke in their local Chinese language. At the same time, there was interpretation, but only of the main points. As we watched closely, we noticed that the non-Chinese audience wasn’t as excited while watching the drama. It seems that translation can’t keep up with the original feel of a drama. We got so curious that we ended up asking some Chinese audience members about the drama’s theme and suspense.

This felt like a smaller version of Assamese Bhaona performed by Chino-Mongolian people. China and nearby countries are where some Assamese ancestors come from. We liked it, but the language was a barrier for us.

The special thing about Bhaona is it’s in the Brajawali language. Brajawali mixes several eastern Indian languages like Maithili, Oriya, Prakrit, Bengali, etc. Sankardev created this language to make a common language that everyone in eastern India could understand easily. This was to spread it further than just Assam. Following Sankardev, we chose English, which lets us share it with people all over the world. We also used Russian and a few other languages in some shows. So, after Brajawali and Matribhashar Bhaona, we created English Bhaona.

SCRIPT & PREPARATION

We picked “Udyog Parva” from the Mahabharata for our debut show. We chose New Delhi, the political heart, to draw more eyes. I took the helm for directing and translating the script. Ms. Girimallika Saikia and Ms. Gitimallika Baidya were pivotal in coordination. Our cast was selected from high-performing students in senior secondary schools and colleges, challenging given we sought those with a cultural inclination.

Rehearsals stretched over roughly two and a half months. Being the inaugural English Bhaona with local talent sparked widespread excitement, including media interest. The coverage was extensive, universally dubbing it English Bhaona.

PERFORMANCE

The event unfolded on 15th September 2018 at Srimanta Sankardev Bhawan in New Delhi. Dr. Kapila Vatsyayan, esteemed in scholarly circles, graced the opening. The venue buzzed that evening, with a live broadcast reaching homes. Post-performance, Dr. Vatsyayan remarked on its rendition of the Mahabharata in English, noting not only dialogues but also songs and laments were translated. She lauded the sync of actor movements with the English musical scores, stressing the importance of adhering to traditional Bhaona structures while embracing the linguistic shift. All Bhaona elements, from the orchestra to the final rituals, remained untouched except for language, she observed, highlighting the challenge of aligning English synonyms with Bhaona’s unique delivery.

Dr. Malaya Khaund of JNU labeled the translation a milestone in Assamese literature, keen to experience the age-old poetic narrations in English.

The Assamese media collective, encompassing News Live, Dy365, News18, Prag, Assam Talk, Sentinel, Assam Tribune, among others, heralded the event as a historic moment for Assamese theatre.

The success in Delhi was merely the beginning. Coordinator Ms. Gitimallika Baidya underscored the significance of introducing Bhaona to metropolitan audiences. The plan proceeded flawlessly, with India’s major cities, including Mumbai, welcoming the sacred spectacle of the Assamese tradition.

FOREIGN DEBUT:

Coordinator Ms. Girimallika embarked on the quest to globalize the untouched charm of Assamese Indian culture. Bhaona, embodying the rich cultural tapestry of medieval India, served as our medium. Revering Sankardev as ‘Jagat Guru’ (Global Mentor), we aspired for international embrace, paving our path worldwide. Ms. Baidya engaged with the Assamese diaspora, leading to performances across several developed nations, including Moscow, St. Petersburg, Finland, Singapore, Macau, Dubai, and Abu Dhabi, with the Assam government backing us considerably. Beyond “Udyoga Parva,” our repertoire expanded to include tales from the Ramayana and Ankiya Keligopal, akin to Rasleela yet distinctively presented as Bhaona. Our venture into performing Keli Gopal in English might well be a pioneering effort from India. Government dignitaries from Assam/India graced several occasions, marking our cultural footprint on the global stage.

EFFECT:

Every country has its traditional plays or culture. Assamese Bhaona is just as special and unique as any other. Some parts of Bhaona, like the way actors move and the roles they play, are even more interesting. The way the narrator comes in and out, the sad songs, and the orchestra really impress people a lot. Bhaona is not just about dance or talking. It’s a mix of singing, dancing, talking, and music. Drama began in Greece about 2500 years ago with famous writers like Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, who lived before 450BC. Sankardev’s plays were influenced by old Indian dramas. But Bhaona has parts that didn’t come from European or old Indian drama. It blends Aryan, local Assamese, and Southeast Asian cultures. Sankardev’s special touch in bringing these together is what makes Bhaona stand out. In our shows, even people from other countries got a glimpse of Assam’s rich culture.

Bhaona is changing to focus more on art than just religion. People usually prefer art over religion. This change is a big part of what makes English Bhaona different.

CRITICISM & OBSTACLES:

The way people think shows the culture of a place. Bhaona has changed a lot over time. People are now okay with Bhaona in different languages, including Assamese. But some Assamese people think using English is strange. Critics say that changing the language messes up Bhaona’s themes and ways of showing things. There have been some protests about this. As the director, I argued that language shouldn’t stop us from sharing our culture. Even Sankardev didn’t use just Assamese; he used Brajawali to reach more people. I believe that in any play, the emotions and how it’s shown are what matter most.

Money problems, trouble with visas for young students, and organizing shows in other countries can be tough.

To really make a change, an artist needs to be rich, brave, smart, and healthy. The first Assamese filmmaker, Jyoti Prasad Aggarwal, is a great example.

FUTURE PLAN:

We want to keep performing in more countries and in more languages. Sharing languages can connect people’s minds, but translation can touch their hearts. We aim to celebrate Sankardev as a cultural icon, just like Leonardo Da Vinci and Michelangelo. To do this, we need to show Sankardev in many different ways, not just as a religious leader. This is our goal for Assamese culture.

Note: This article has been edited to maintain the author’s original style.

The Naming Ceremony: -Ka Jer Ka Thoh

Tradition is a celebration of our roots,our heritage and the invincibility of their strength to protect our identity.The Khasis of Meghalaya practice a monotheistic religion,Ñiam Khasi.U Blei ,the Great Divinity,the Super Consciousness that pervades the entire universe is imageless and formless Every piece of the earth is, therefore .sacred. Every home is a temple and every good deed,word and thought is an offering to U Blei unparalleled to any other.There are only three big ceremonies among the Khasis, Naming (Ka Jer Ka Thoh), Marriage (Ka Poikha Poiman) and Death-the last rites(Ka Iap Ka Duh).The only form of community worship is the Shad Suk Mynsiem,the thanksgiving dance held in spring each year,after the sowing season.

    The most joyous moment in a Khasi home is the birth of a child .The birth of both boys and girls are welcome because we believe that “ a home without a woman is like a body without a soul,a home without a man is a body crippled.” The Khasis are a matrilineal society.The lineage is taken from the mother and the head of the family is the eldest maternal uncle.The birth of a girl child is fervently prayed for for the continuity of the clan and so for a boy too In his sister’s house is the much revered mama.In his wife’s house he is the progenitor of the clan and the protector of family.He is, therefore ,doubly honoured.In Khasi society the extinction of a family (duh iing )or a clan (duh jait) is considered a great misfortune.

    The Khasi naming ceremony is referred to as Ka Jer Ka Thoh.Jer is a ritual associated with new beginnings,in this case to name a newborn child with the accompanying ritual.Housewarming used to be referred to as ‘jer iing’.Thoh is the smearing/ marking done by the priest on the baby with the pounded rice solution.

   Soon after the baby is born the good news is first conveyed to the paternal grandparents.They come and visit bringing with them a vessel to heat bathing water and a jaiñ it,the long ,thick cotton scarf which is used as a strap to carry a baby on the mother’s back.

    A baby can be named anytime preferably within three months of its birth.It is an event filled with excitement as names are being chosen by the parents, family,friends and well wishers.

The night before the naming ceremony the Meikha sends the rice to be pounded the following morning.At the maternal home all the items needed for the ceremony are kept ready on a prah,a winnowing basket.The items are,

 u skaw-a small bottle made out of a gourd

ka lakait – plaintain leaf

u khaw-rice

ka ja – cooked rice

u pujer- pounded rice

ka ryntieh – a bow

ki khnam – arrows

wait bnoh- a small dao

ka khoh- conical cane basket

u star- cane head strap for the khoh

ka rashi -a sickle

    On the morning of the jer male relatives pound the rice in a thlong /mortar with a synrei(pestle).A room facing East is swapped and cleaned and cane stools/mulas  are kept for the priest and participants.In front of the priest’s seat the prah with the items are kept.The members of the families enter and greet the priest and sit on their seats.The baby is brought and placed on the paternal grandmother s lap.Then the puja pukan begins.

    The priest mixes the pounded rice/pujer with some water to form a thick solution inside the skaw ,the gourd container.The priest begins with a prayer to U Blei ,God Almighty,Lord Creator and then invokes the Ancestor and Ancestress ,all the elders of the family who have passed on to bless the occasion.He prays that the baby may be blessed with good health and prosperity, success in all spheres,sound of mind and character ,one who will live by the tenets that has been taught since time immemorial.The tenets are Tip Kur-Tip -Kha,Tip Briew Tip Blei,Kamai Ia ka Hok..

    Then the much- awaited moment,a unique part of the ceremony begins The priest calls out the chosen names one by one slowly and prayerfully.When the correct name,as willed by God ,is called out a clot forms at the mouth of the skaw and remains there.There is always much rejoicing among those gathered there.

    Next the father takes the jhep,the placenta and goes and places it on a tree .The Khasis believe that since the placenta has been the protective shield for the baby for nine months it should be given due respect and not be disposed off carelessly.When the father returns the baby ‘ s mama pours the water,which had been used at the puja, on the father ‘s feet.

    After that important ritual the baby is brought forward and the priest smears/thoh the baby’s left hand and foot with the rice and water solution , blessing the baby with the chosen name.He also extends this ritual on the mother and her family and on the father and his family on the right hand and foot.This marks the confirmation of the name and the end of the ceremony.

       Traditionally,in the olden days,only the pujer mixed with sugar or savoured with dried fish are served along with tea.In the present times it has become an  elaborate feast.

      The naming ceremony,ka jer ka thoh ,may differ slightly from place to place and from clan to clan but the spirit is the same.A child is born and the people rejoice for it means the continuity of the jaidbynriew which is essential for any race.

The Khasi Marriage Ceremony :Ka Shongkha Shongman

Traditionally, among the Khasis of Meghalaya, marriage is a coming together of two families,two clans and the match is ,more often than not,arranged.Many things have changed except for one rule – marriage into the same clan is strictly forbidden,it is an unforgivable transgression.The couple and children of such a match are ostracized by society.On the other hand legitimacy is every child:s birthright and the children born put of wedlock are accepted.

     In the olden days, as part of a child’s upbringing etiquette is taught and relationships are explained based on the tip kur tip kha precept and the clan structure.During festivals and naming and marriage ceremony celebrations the young are encouraged to mix and parents and relatives hope to arrange a good and appropriate match for the children, nieces and nephews.ln the olden days,the decision as when the children are ready for marriage is interesting.The boy should be able to make a perfect shyngoid ,the wooden trough for feeding domestic animals.The girl is tested by her ability to roast a piece of dried fish just right for serving.

     Once a prospective match is decided or if the boy and girl have expressed their wish to enter matrimony both families sit in conference.Calculations are done to ascertain that the match is appropriate.Besides the same clan issue other considerations are also discussed like past relationships between the two families have had no unpleasantness and tragic events.When the maternal uncles on both sides give the go ahead that everything is clear on both sides then the boy is allowed to visit the girl in her house accompanied by a young friend or cousin The girl ,too,meets the boy wiith her sisters/cousins.The boy takes a few servings of kwai and once they are finished the boy leaves till the next meeting when the couple meet on their own

     After a few meetings if the couple agree to get

married then a formal proposal is sent to the girl’s house through a common lady friend or relative to fix a date for the meeting of maternal uncles .On the appointed day they meet and the proposal is formally done by the boy’s maternal uncle to the maternal uncles and parents of the girl.It is a formality for the girl’s side to reply that they would like a few days to give the answer.

     Next meeting is again at the girl’s house where both families fix the date and decide on theplace where the groom will be received and how many will accompany him ,the rituals that will follow and so on.In the groom’s s party his male relatives led by a priest and mamas are followed by other relatives and friends.The parents of the groom do not join the baraat nor do the sisters .The boy’s father’s sisters are permitted and other female friends and distant relatives who are not his clan members.

     The clothes worn by the men are white dhoti,white turban and a shawl called ryndia tlem.Since the middle of the last century men wear suits with the turban and shawl.The women wear dharas in white ,red or yellow but never black and dark colours.They also drape the ryndia tlem or sarot liehmTheir hair is neatly tied in a chignon and flowers are used for adornment.The jewellery worn is the gold choker ,the khonopad,the gold earrings,siar kynthei,the gold chain ,kynjri ksiar and the bangles,khadu  kyllaiñ.The men wear only a gold chain.Brides who are virgins do not cover their heads , they drape their shawl like a cape.Those who are not ,cover with the ryndia tlem.

     There are three types of marriages among the Khasis , pynhiar synjat, khawai lamdoh , khawai madan.Pynhiar synjat is no longer prevalent because it forbids remarriage even if the spouse loses the partner,if there are no offspring and the couple want to split, if there is incompatibility resulting in unhappiness and other unpleasantness .Khawai lamdoh is a ritualist ceremony which is lengthy and includes all the prayers and the ritual,‘ka suit ka shor’ which the priest performs.This ritual is only done if the bride is still a virgin.Khawai Madan which means Ordinary Feast  is  a meeting of the uncles of both sides who give their blessings and formalize the union.It can also include all the prayers but not’ ka suit ka shor ‘.The feast after the ceremonies depends entirely on the economic comfort of the bride’s family.As soon as the ceremony is complete a thali containing all the eatables that will be served to the guests is taken by a few relatives to the boy’s parents as a token of respect and to convey to them that the formalities are completed and all is well.

     The rice that had been used for the ritual suit and shor is cooked separately for the couple for their first meal after the wedding.They eat it from the same plate.The feasting begins soon after for the guests .By the end of the ceremony it is usually early supper time.Normally rice dishes are eaten with various meat and fish delicacies along with salads,fried potatoes,saags and chutneys.Dal and exotic vegetarian dishes are a latter introduction.The feast is called lamdoh which literally translates into ‘ bring the meat ‘. Earlier Khasis were mostly vegetarians and meats are served only during special occasions.

      The exchange of rings which earlier was part of only the pynhiar synjat has now been incorporated into khawai lamdoh without the rules that governed the first mentioned form of marriage.The maternal uncle of the boy gives the ring to the girl and she puts it on.It is the same procedure with the boy ,the maternal uncle of the girl gives him the ring and he puts it on.The ring ceremony in which the couple put the rings on each other is not traditional but a Western adoption.

    The prayers revolve around the basic foundation of marriage that the clan may increase blessed by male and female children.In traditional Khasi society both are welcome.Khasi society is a matrilineal society in which the lineage is taken from the mother and the maternal uncle is the head of the family..The man is doubly honoured for in his wife’s house he is the protector and progenitor of clan.

    The day after the wedding the couple is expected to go out on their own ,accompanied by close friends.In the olden days when dating was not allowed so this gave the couple the opportunity to be on their own.On the second day the girl’s parents take the newlyweds to the paternal grandparents’ home to pay their respects and traditional dishes like putharo and pudoh are specially prepared for them..At the grandparents home all the elders gather and one by one they smear a little oil on the couple ‘ s forehead and bless them.On the third day the couple accompanied by elders visit the groom’s parents.The same preparations are made and the mode of welcome is similar.A small party ,a reception is held from the groom’s side to enable his relatives who were not present at the wedding  to meet his wife.These three visits are never delayed because these formalities have to be completed before the bride gets pregnant.

    Khasi brides always have bridesmaids.These young girls serve as attendants who ho wherever she does in order to help her and attend to her needs.Out of the two are chosen to attend to the food of the couple.They are all chosen from the immediate family.

    The Seng Khasi was accorded with the power of registering marriages on June 23 2004.The awareness that marriages must be registered to ensure a certain code of conduct and values was expressed by Babu Jeebon zin 1897.He wrote ,” In my opinion Khasi society is now rife with immorality.To make marriage more formal and permanent we should adhere to the Marriage Act 111 of 1872.We must give special powers to syiems and sirdars to act as marriage registrars.”

Always a visionary and a forerunner he understood the sanctity and importance of the institution of marriage .A healthy family life and progressive society are imperative for the survival of a race.

Bijoya Sawian is a translator and writer who lives in Shillong and Dehradun. She studied at Seng Khasi High School and Loreto Convent in Shillong, and did her Masters in English at Miranda House, Delhi, after graduating in English Literature from Lady Shri Ram College. Her works essentially deal with the life and culture of the Khasi community of North East India. The Teachings of Elders, Khasi Myths, Legends and Folktales and About One God are three of several books that she has translated from Khasi into English.

How to escape hedonic-treadmill for lasting happiness?

When we fail to differentiate between pleasurable life and a good life, seeking dopamine-based pleasure becomes the sole objective of life. This is also when life puts us on a hedonic-treadmill. Years-after-years, our run-on-the-mill chase leaves us wanting for lasting happiness. Moot question is – what should we do to escape hedonic-trap and achieve lasting happiness?

My own story of ice-cream

It looks like that my thirst for ice-cream would never get quenched. Like any other kid would do, I liked ice-cream so much in my childhood. I wanted to eat more of it but unfortunately I would not get it enough due to family situation. Our family income wasn’t sufficient enough to afford the luxury of spending on ice-creams. I grew up with this deep-seated wish of eating plenty of ice-cream. I literally funded my own education through tutoring school children. We had a thatched house. During rains, we had to struggle to find a place to sleep. There was no electricity at home. I grew up studying in the dim light of a kerosene oil lamp. Ice-cream, indeed, was beyond the scope of our living.

Nevertheless, somehow I had developed a big fascination for reading books and learning new things. I also liked sharing my learnings with others. During my undergrad time, statistics used to be my favourite subject and I was particularly good at solving problems. My close friends used to pester and take help from me. Overtime, the number of friends seeking help in statistics started growing and that put me under stress. Looking at the demand for my time, one of my close friend suggested that we would pay 100 rupee each for it. This was extremely lucrative for me and helping too. I started using this money to buy books which I was not able to buy earlier. Life took a different turn. Almost all my friends from the same class became my ‘student’ in a way. Look what, my preparations time increased, indulgence with statistics flared up, and I had to keep on searching solutions for new and difficult problems so that I do not flinch while teaching my friends. I realized that perhaps the best way to learn is to teach.

What happened to ice-cream? I had money to buy ice-cream and I started going for it. Ice-cream gave me pleasure which I craved for. But, I realized soon that it didn’t stop at one ice-cream. I needed to buy another ice-cream and another ice-cream and yet another ice-cream. Rather, my thirst for ice-cream increased as I started getting more of it. But then, I also realized that something similar is happening with teaching statistics to my friends. My indulgence with statistics increased several fold. I started getting more money and yet looked for more. Nevertheless, I thought of not chasing ice-cream so much and focus more on buying books and funding my education. Why did I do that? I have little answer to this question.

Was there any difference between eating ice-cream and teaching statistics? Scientifically speaking, both were backed up by the chase for neurochemical called dopamine and hence there was no difference. It was based on seeking pleasure in terms of taste, money, achievement and appreciation. However, there was a subtle aspect in teaching statistics. It was about the glow I could see on the face of my friends, a sense of satisfaction, a feeling of being secured with exams and feeling of being helped when needed the most. This became my driving force. When I solved a problem for them, I used to feel a river rushing inside me. It is hard to describe this river but we all know it when it happened to us. Such a rush of river inside bring profundity to life, and create an everlasting fountain of happiness. It is something like ice-cream vs helping others. When we help, we feel loved and happy and this is backed-up by neurochemicals called oxytocin, serotonin and endorphin. These happy hormones are different from dopamine which creates pleasure-trap for us.

The hedonic-treadmill and need for a dopamine-detox

When we buy a new car, it gives immense pleasure. However, after a year or two the marginal pleasure derived from the car starts reducing due to – one, reduced utility with higher repeated use and two, inter-personal comparison starts the more you look at the big and latest model being purchased by your neighbor. The point is that if objects and products like new dress, handbag, car, success, appreciation, and raise make us really happy, then these would have a long-term effect on our wellbeing and our happiness would be constantly compounding and increasing. However, it doesn’t! Rather it has a tendency of returning back to base-level after sometime. The mid-life crisis occurs when we run on such a hedonic-treadmill (chasing happiness in money, products, achievements and likewise) and in the long run at 40 or 50 years of age, we find that happiness has eluded, it stands at the same place where we started.

Each time our possession enhances pleasure, each time it entails the possibility of eloping our happiness. Dopamine as a rewarding chemical, regulates our pleasure. We get dopamine from things we generally like doing and they form part of our habit as well. Say for example, junk food. We crave for it once we are habitual of it. Each time we feel like eating, some or the other fast food would come to our mind. This happens because we start getting lots of dopamine from eating junk food. So is the case of certain type of music, looking at mobile repeatedly with the expectation of getting message or new notification. People need to see mobile as the first thing after getting up in the morning. We really need ‘dopamine detox’ to get away from this mind frame. Our brain has ‘neuroplasticity’ and it has become too much sliced and fragmented with loads of quick reels on the small screen in our hands. Once wired to certain pattern, the excessive dopamine would not let us think otherwise. We need to re-wire our brain through a different experience and exposure. The lust of pleasure is too immersive and it requires re-orientation of mind.

Affective vs Evaluative Happiness

How you are today, is not the same question as how are you these days. The longer the period of evaluation, greater will be the focus on experience. Affective happiness connotes to ‘mood swing’ and mood swing is not happiness. Happiness is evaluative in nature, a subtle sense of feeling of satisfaction with life. It is the protoplasm of life’s overall wellbeing. Problem is that we search happiness in shorter and immediate factors and possession while what we aspire for is a sense of life-satisfaction over a period of life lived where experience counts.

We all are going to age someday and reach retirement and fag end of life. There is a million dollar question we all need ask to ourselves at that point of time. And the evaluative question is – Look back you entire life and ask ‘am I happy?” The answer to this question does not lie in your earning and possession, nor in your achievement or recognition. It is somewhere else. It lies in fulfilling the purpose of life, helping others, and nurturing soul.

Neurochemicals for happiness

Pleasure is dopamine while happiness is oxytocin, serotonin and endorphin. A long walk through green meadows, a night in forest, colourful flowers at workplace and at home, socializing, helping others and a laughter with close friends may provide those extra bits of oxytocin, serotonin and endorphin needed to detox our mind. Endorphin is a healer and a natural pain reliever. It soothes up our feelings and set is right. Spend some of those preciously earned money on vacation. Click pics with family and friends. Make videos of your memories. It has been observed that a paid family vacation granted to employees enhances happiness in measures more than a monetary incentives.

Dr. Prabhat Pankaj is an inquisitive person and a profound researcher, with a firm belief in creative and innovative thinking. Dr Prabhat is a Harvard trained leader in higher education and currently working as the Director of Jaipuria Institute of Management, Jaipur.  He is an expert on Bhutan’s economic and social development and he is well networked in Bhutan throughout the country, worked extensively with the Center of Bhutan Studies, Thimphu, and represented the Royal Government of Bhutan at UNESCAP meet on Post-Cancun Agenda and presented country paper. Dr Prabhat received the title of ‘National Unicorn of Happiness’ by the All India Council of Technical Education (AICTE). He is a keen researcher and a resource person on the subject of economics of happiness, faculty leadership, effective teaching, and outcome-based education (OBE).

A significant quality that is attributed to God is that he is Happiness itself (Anandam Brahma).

For millennia, the elusive concept of happiness has captivated philosophers and spiritual seekers alike. The Vedas, ancient Indian scriptures, offer a profound perspective, suggesting that true and lasting happiness – Ananda – doesn’t lie in chasing external things, but within ourselves.

Our relentless pursuit of possessions and experiences often obscures this inherent joy. Swami Vivekananda eloquently illustrates this by comparing the fleeting pleasure of a thief’s stolen goods to the enduring joy found within. Worldly objects may offer temporary satisfaction, but they ultimately leave us wanting more.

The deep sleep state provides a fascinating example. Devoid of possessions and even bodily awareness, we experience a profound sense of peace and tranquility. This suggests that happiness is not dependent on external stimuli, but rather resides within us.

The key to unlocking this inner wellspring lies in self-realization. Sages emphasize this by urging us to discover the Self – the essence of our being. This inward journey allows us to access happiness that is independent of external circumstances.

However, the pursuit of power and heightened states of being, often associated with occult practices, can be misleading. Limited by our current perception, additional powers would likely amplify our existing anxieties. True happiness lies not in external validation, but in self-acceptance and the expansion of our inner being, not our external capabilities

The Vedas categorize happiness into three levels. The most basic is fleeting pleasure derived from the senses. A higher level arises from leading a moral life and cultivating positive values. Ultimately, however, true and lasting happiness is found in liberation – the state of Mukti or Moksha – where we transcend the limitations of the ego and reconnect with the divine essence within.

As Prabhat Pankaj argues in “From Ice Cream to Endorphins,” true happiness comes from activities that engage our higher selves, like helping others or pursuing a meaningful purpose. Finding happiness requires a holistic approach that nourishes the body and mind. Practices like meditation, spending time in nature, nurturing social connections, and developing a sense of purpose contribute to a balanced life that promotes lasting contentment.

By turning inwards, cultivating positive values, serving others, and adopting practices that nurture our well-being, we can begin to tap into the limitless wellspring of joy that resides within each of us. Unveiling Happiness is a lifelong journey, but one that promises profound rewards.

Modern society often bombards us with messages that equate happiness with material possessions or fleeting trends.  However, this constant striving can leave us feeling empty and dissatisfied.  By embracing the wisdom of ancient traditions and prioritizing self-discovery, service to others, and a meaningful purpose, we can embark on a transformative journey towards lasting happiness.

Often when we think about indigenous culture, amongst the first things that come to mind are indigenous music and dance forms. Every community has its own distinct sounds and melodies, rhythms and beats, words and poetry which preserve: Identity and Essence. So, where should we look, if we wish to find the answers to these questions: What is the foundation of Khasi music? Where lies its Soul?

The late Rangbah Rojet Buhphang, who was an exceptional musician and master craftsman, would tell his students at the Sieng Riti Institute in Wahkhen, “Ka Tem ka Put ka ïaid ryngkat ryngkat bad ka Akor ka Burom” which can be translated as “Music goes side by side with good conduct”. This wisdom is a window into understanding the mind and soul of a Khasi. He left us much too early, but his knowledge and contributions will live on forever. His words help us realise that ‘Respect’ is one of the strongest foundations of Khasi music… Respect for oneself and one’s ‘Way of Life’.

The world today is more connected than ever before. Every style of music is at our fingertips. The world we live in offers infinite possibilities. However, there will always be a flip side. As we grow more connected, so too does homogeneity, putting at risk the vibrant diversity that exists. Fortunately, the world is also looking within, more than ever before. The need to connect and grow with the world is being counterbalanced by an innate sense of responsibility to preserve sacred roots and ancient inheritance. Staying rooted is imperative to progress in the churn of globalisation. A positive realisation has dawned. A fine balance must be found. The search and the solutions must come from within.

Shad: Dance,  Suk: Peace,  Mynsiem: Soul

It has been said that to understand the Khasi, one must go deep into the root of his religion. Similarly, to understand and find the soul of Khasi Music, one must dive deep into the sacred rhythms and melodies of the land. One must immerse oneself in the Dance of the Peaceful Heart, Shad Suk Mynsiem.

The traditional Khasi dance has existed since time immemorial. It is an integral part of the culture. The dance is a celebration and it is also a unique form of community worship. Several forms and names exist for the dance. However, the dance held by the Seng Khasi at the historic dance arena – Lympung Shad Weiking – in Jaiaw, Shillong is the most well known. Held annually in the month of April, the dance is a beautiful showcase of the depth of Khasi thought and belief and the richness of the culture that is born from this consciousness.

KI HYNÑIEW SKIT

The Khasi word for rhythm is Skit and there are Seven that are integral to the dance held at Weiking. The seven skits or “Ki Hynñiewskit” of the Shad Suk Mynsiem are:

Lumpaid, Ksing Lynti, Mastieh, Padiah, Dum Dum, Nalai, Klang.

These rhythms are also called by alternate names in different parts of the Khasi Hills of Meghalaya, India. Not only do they have different names, these beats are even played with slight variations, from traditional state to state and even, village to village. This diversity and depth flourishing in tandem within such a small area is rare to find in the world today. There are four types of traditional drums used to play the rhythms:

Ksing Shynrang, Ksing Kynthei, Padiah, Ka Bom, Kynshaw. The only melodic instrument is the wind instrument, Ka Tangmuri. The traditional musicians are known as Ki Duhalia.

ONE FOUNDATION, SEVERAL WAYS

The musicians who play at the dance are usually from the same village, town or region but sometimes they are brought together from different parts, assembled like a supergroup. All these factors influence the style of play and the sound produced. Every musician has a special touch or feel of their own. The Shad Suk Mynsiem held in Weiking, Shillong was for an initial period, the only dance organised by the Seng Khasi, but now the dance is held at over a hundred locations, across the Khasi hills by units of Seng Khasi. You will find the rhythms and sounds and even the style of dancing varies from dance to dance. The Khasi religion – Niam Khasi – is often described as “Ka Niam bad Ki Rukom”, which means “The Religion and its Ways”. The same truth applies to the music of the dance: One Foundation, Several Ways. At the dance in Weiking, the seven skits listed above must all be performed. In four out of the seven skits, a specific and essential rhythmic layer must be performed on the Ksing Kynthei (Female Drum).

LUMPAID

The first skit performed is the Lumpaid and it is played to assemble people together in the front courtyard of the Seng Khasi headquarters in Mawkhar, Shillong. The skit has a commanding mid tempo waltz like beat. The pattern played on Ka Bom (large drum) and the Ksing Shynrang (male drum) may appear identical at first but there are slight embellishments on the latter that fill the spaces in between subtly. The Tangmuri melody that flows in veers into musical territory that even the most avant garde musicians in the world could never dream of writing. After the short ceremony conducted in the courtyard has concluded, the gathering which includes leaders of Seng Khasi, dancers, flag bearers, men and women of all ages then proceed to walk towards the historic dance arena, a few kilometers away.

SACRED GROUND

The musicians play their instruments as they walk. The skit they play is the most recognisable and popular Khasi beat: Ka Ksing Lynti. When one thinks of the quintessential Khasi rhythm, this is it. You can’t help but move along to its gallop powered by the Bom and propelled by the energetic patterns of the Ksing Shynrang. The Tangmuri melody twirls around the beat, restraining itself at first before launching into some of the most primordial yet futuristic sonic expressions in the world. Its range and frequencies cannot be transcribed. The Tangmuri – the Queen of instruments – exists in her own “Melodic Universe”.

On arriving at the arena, prayers are offered by an elder of Seng Khasi – U Tymmen U San – following which the gathering disperses briefly. A short breather taken, the musicians move to their positions on their platform and then unleash the most exciting and invigorating of all Khasi beats: Ka Mastieh. The sacred ground – Lympung Shad Weiking – comes to life. The dance to this rhythm is intricate and difficult to perform, but that doesnt stop even the youngest of dancers from attempting it. Immense pride and joy is felt by all. Participation means everything. It takes years and years to find unison. The dance when performed by seasoned dancers and musicians feels deep rooted, powerful, elegant and distinct. It deserves to be included in the list of Indian Classical Art forms.

PADIAH

For many, the dance truly begins when the sixteenth note stride of the skit Padiah takes off, supported by the high and deep notes of the Ksing Kynthei (female drum) which syncopate and displace the measures over a rhythmic bed played with light sticks, on a small circular drum from which the skit gets it name. The female dancers enter the ground and begin their minimal yet mesmerizing dance in the inner section. The hypnotic Tangmuri melody swirls in and out, inspiring the dancers into focus. The dancers begin to appear like waves in a sea of colours. Moving and adjusting to each others movements to keep the flow constant.

DUM DUM

The Padiah is followed by the Dum Dum rhythm which feels slower than the rest but in actuality the tempo does not drop much.The dancers subtly adjust their steps and movements. It has a soothing groove that pulls ones shoulders and head into a synchronized bounce. You will find your feet automatically tapping along. The tangmuri melody played is the same as the one for Ksing Lynti. The inherent nature of the female drum and the way it is played allows for melodic and sonic tones to be created, which bounce alongside the melodies of the Tangmuri.

NALAI

The third rhythm introduced on the female drum is the Nalai. A rhythm unlike any other. It skips and stutters, ricochets and bounces, deceiving the listener into thinking it keeps falling out of time, but on the contrary the pattern played on the small circular drum – Ka Padiah – is actually very consistent and must be played with focus. This rhythm has always drawn my interest the most, especially since it is not played very often, perhaps owing to its complexity. To execute this rhythm well, one requires skill, practice and an inherent talent and deep connection to the music. The accompanying melody on the Tangmuri makes the Nalai even more unusual and intriguing.

KLANG

The fourth rhythm which requires the Ksing Kynthei that we are introduced to is the Klang, also known as Skit Mareh. The small drum leads this one too. It sets the foundation, with a repetitive and driving triplet pattern pushing against, while simultaneously locking in with the pulse of a four four meter. Gradually the tempo lifts. The change in the movements of the male dancers is most evident. They tune themselves into the rhythm and find a balance between a brisk walk and a run. Once a round of each skit has been played, the four rhythms that must feature the Ksing Kynthei are all performed again, in the same order, until the dance reaches its last segment.

SHAD WAIT &  SHAD MASTIEH

Evening approaches and a beautiful sight is often witnessed: The Sun – Ka Mei Syiem Sngi – casts a soft golden light over the dancers, before slowly beginning her retreat behind the majestic silhouette of the Lum Diengiei mountain range. A surreal atmosphere engulfs the entire arena.

In the final section of this unique form of showing gratitude through dance – Ka Shad Ai Nguh Ai Dem – the male dancers hold Ka Waitlam (Khasi sword) in their right hand, switching the Symphiah (Whisk) over to their left. The musicians feed off the energy of the dancers and deliver their rhythms with more passion and commitment. The large drums power the arena while the Kynshaw (hand cymbal) serves as a timekeeper, adding a crucial layer of brightness to the sonic scape. The rhythm section is then joined by a wailing Tangmuri that drifts between an otherworldly tone and the most organic of sounds. When all the instruments are locked in tight and flow together the feeling transmitted is transcendental. Ksing Lynti has transformed into Shad Wait. This energy is reciprocated by the dancers who wave their whisks higher and raise their swords above in sync, taking turns to move faster, criss-crossing, switching sides in beautiful motion. The foundation of each group is the same, but there are slight adjustments and embellishments found within each group. This is a supremely beautiful aspect of the dance.

The Shad Wait comes to an end. The female dancers leave the dance ground, but not before offering a prayer at the centre of the ground. The male dancers prepare for the last dance that wil performed at Lympung Weiking. During this second and final round of the Shad Mastieh at the arena, the ground is filled with dancers. The sound of the Tangmuri soars and cuts across the arenạ̣. The drums roll with thunder and boom. More zeal and poetry can be felt as several pairs and groups launch into their dance at different moments, bodies bouncing, turning and adjusting with more determination, pride and joy! The drummers embellish their parts, adding extra slaps and hits, watching the dancers as they play. It is a mesmerising site. Each movement adds to the sanctity. The last sequence of the Shad Mastieh at the arena sees the dancers on opposite ends rushing towards each other with their swords twirling, as if preparing to strike an opponent. They chant as they draw closer and then stop a close distance apart. They bring their swords and whisks together, like hands in folded prayer. Lifting gently and then lowering them down again. They bow to each other three times, chanting:“Hoi Kiw”.

A deep sense of spirituality flows in this last moment and we are reminded that this dance is a form of Worship and Thanksgiving to the Almighty – U Blei Trai Kynrad Nongthaw Nongbuh – for all he has bestowed on us. It brings peace to the heart. It brings pride to the people. The dance is a way of connecting with Divinity within. The Soul of Khasi music lives in the “Shad Suk Mynsiem”.

The glamourous city Shillong, capital of Meghalaya today, was completely in wilderness till 1866. There was no proper residential area even, other than some temporary huts made of stones and branches of trees in the present upper Laban area. Some plain paddy fields were there in the present upper Laban and Pynthorumkhrah area, where the Khasi people from nearby villages would plant paddy during summer time.

Due to excessive cold and dense forestry people did not find comfortable and safe to stay in the hill.

 The story of Shillong actually started at Cherrapunji, the first Headquarters of the Khasi and Jaintia Hills District under the Assam Division of the province of Bengal.

 But the British Officers found Cherrapunji quite damp and unhealthy due to heavy rainfall; and a good number of the officers died of enteric fever, including David Scott, the founder of British suzerainity in the hills. The remaning officers started hue and cry for their safety to shift the head quarter from Cherrapunji to a healthier place.

 Meanwhile, as early as 14th October, 1856, J . Allen, Member of the Board of Revenue of the Bengal government, apparently responding to the grievances of the officers, recommended shifting of the district headquarters from Cherrapunji to a more suitable place. The area, known today as Upper Shillong, lying at the foot of the Shillong Peak, was selected as the site of the next district headquarters and sanatorium, but the site had to be abandoned mainly because there was no source of adequate water supply for the people of the projected town. The choice ultimately fell on Iewduh, (Present Barabazar area) as the area was known then.

 

Col. Henry Hopkinson, then commissioner of Assam Division and Agent to the Governor General, who actually fathered the town of Shillong, took up measures for building up the town and shifting the district headquarters from Cherrapunji. In 1861, he directed Capt. Rowlat, the Deputy Commissioner of the district to proceed to Iewduh accordingly.

  Capt. Rowlat built a cottage for his stay at Iewduh, and made a detailed survey of the area for the projected town. Col. Hopkinson also sanctioned Rs. 35,000 for the improvement of the Guwahati – Iewduh cart road. The final selection of Iewduh as the site for the new town was communicated by a letter dated December 18, 1863, to the Bengal Government, which in its turn, approved purchase of land for the purpose. Col. Hopkinson purchased 2499 acres of land at a cost of Rs. 8,433, including Rs. 1,000 paid to the Syiem of Mylliem for renouncing all claims to the purchased land. This was the area on which Government buildings began to be constructed. Col. Hopkinson named the town ‘Shillong’.

[Ref:- ‘Birth of Shillong’ by Prof. Dr. B. Dutta Roy. The Assam Tribune 7th October 1976.]  

It was only on April 28, 1866, that the Deputy Commissioner’s office, Treasury, Jail and Police started functioning at Shillong, the new born town.

No other State capital in the country has undergone such changes of status and fortune as Shillong since its foundation.

In February 1874, on the formation of Assam as a separate province, Shillong was chosen as capital of the new province on account of its salubrious climate and conveniently central situation between the Brahmaputra Valley and the Surma valley. The site of the present Raj Bhavan was then purchased from Mr. Bivar, former D.C. of the district who owned this property, at a cost of Rs. 26,000 for the construction of the official residence of the Chief Commissioner of the province. The road below the present Raj Bhavan along the lake still bears the name of Mr. Bivar. [Bivar Road]

 A big catastrophe came down upon the new city Shillong on 12th June 1897, to crush the beautiful resort to dust, swept away many valuable lives and properties to turn the place into debrises. It was a horrifying and tragic episode of 19th century Shillong.

1897 Aftermath

Let us hear the eeric discription from an eye-witness (L) Sarada Manjuri Dutta, as described in her published work, (Maha Jatrar Pothey):-

‘12th June 1897, was an inauspicious and doomy Saturday. It was evening, being a Half holiday in the offices and schools, people were relaxing at home, and it was a bolt from the blue! All on a sudden a very strong tremor jerked the whole region, with a horrible underground sound and it was continuing! Houses were collapsing with residents inside! People lost their control in movement for the constant tremoring and big fissures on ground. Only helpless shouting and cry of the children and women grasped the whole environment! The first tremour continued for three minutes and then with intervals continuing for long three days, levelling the hill city to the ground. It was a tremendously dreadful condition, recorded in the century old history of Shillong. The then newly built hill city turned into debrises within a few seconds. A big catestrophy! Many children were buried alive due to the big fissures in the floors, but could not be rescued as there was no way out! The helpless mothers would hear their faint piteous cry from underground but could not help! An unbearable heart breaking condition! A big tradegy’!

The earthquake of June 12, 1897, reduced them in a heap of ruins in the space of few seconds, wrecked the water supply and destroyed the stone masonry embankment that dammed up the water of the artificial Ward’s Lake built by the Chief Commissioner Sir William Ward in 1893-94 below the Government house. The pent up water of the lake rushing through the breached embankment down the nullah towards the Polo Ground washed away a wooden bridge over it, creating scarcity of drinking water in the whole town.

  There were 29 deaths in Shillong, 10 of which occurred in the Secretariat press. Two Europeans killed were Mr. Mc. Cabe, the Inspector General of Police, and Mr. Rossen Rode, a pensioner of the Survey Department. Mr. Mc. Cabe was sick in bed and was found crushed after an hour’s digging of his collapsed bungalow. The total number of lives lost in the Khasi Hills District was 916, maximum of which died due to the falling of hill, which buried them.

 The Govt. report goes as:-

 The Assam earthquake of 1897 occurred on 12 June 1897, Saturday in Assam, British India at UTC, and had an estimated moment magnitude of it resulted in approximate 1,542 human casualties and caused catastrophic damage to infrastructures.

 In Shillong, the earthquake took place at about 5:11pm June 12th. The shock was preceded by a rumbling underground noise which lasted for about 3 minutes. The actual earthquake lasted about two and a half minutes in Shillong. This noise was compared with the tremendous rumbling noise like a thousand ships’ engines thumping away in the midst of a storm at sea. The shocks were so severe and prolonged that everything was leveled to the ground. Mr. F. Smith of Geological Survey of India who was stationed in Shillong at the time, opined that the earthquake was so violent that the whole of the damage was done in the first 10 or 15 seconds of the shock. He reported that all stone buildings collapsed, and about half ikrabuilt houses were ruined, but plank houses (wooden frames covered with plank walls, resting unattached on the ground) were untouched. Many people lost their lives at the Secretariat, the military lines and the bazaar’. The London Times reported the death of 27 people in Shillong, 13 of them crushed to death in the Government Press. However, a year later, Luttman-Johnson reported the loss of ten lives at the Printing Press. The London Times also mentioned an unnamed district town of 750 perishing. This town probably was Cherrapunji where a landslide wrecked the Cherrapunji Railway and caused 600 deaths.

 On August 10, 1897, the Times published letters from residents of Shillong. Rev. G.M. Davis was quoted saying that his church became a heap of stones in less than one minute. The water burst the bounds of the lakes making them absolutely dry within seconds. There was sulphury smell in the air coming out of fissures in the ground. He saw huge stones in the steps of his house literally bubbling up and down. Mr. M’ Cabe, the Inspector-General of Police, who was sick and in bed was found crushed on his bed after an hour’s digging of his collapsed bungalow. [Ref:- 1897 Assam earthquake From Wikipedia]

(L) Sushila Dutta, mother of Prof. Suprava Dutta Lady Keane College Shillong in her old age expressed her terrible experience of that furious moments of earthquake which she personally witnessed and miraculously survived, as:-

 ‘It was 12th June 1897, Saturday 5pm. All schools and officess had half holiday; and so, my husband was at home I had high fever and Doctor Kamala Charan Dutta was called at home who examined me and prescribed medicine. Prasanna Babu, a very close friend of my husband was also present there. My little girl of one year was playing on the floor in my bedroom. Suddenly a violent tremour! A stupendous jerk with a tremendous rumbling sound! Our house was moving and collapsing! I was so panicked to get my little daughter to me but within winkling of an eye, the house collapsed and I discovered myself thrown outside in the compound, and Dr. Kamal Babu grasping my little daughter was helplessly crying for rescue from half underground. It was an unbearable scene! The tremour was continuing with full intensity I was crying to rescue my child. My husband and our servants, with spade and axe cleared the debris and rescued them very tactfully from a very critical condition. We had to take shelter in the Jailroad field. The tremour continued for almost three days with intervals. Many mothers lost their children underground, heard their cry but despite all attempts failed to rescue! That tremounds destructive incident of that deadly earthquake left an indelible mark in my memory’! [Translated from ‘Shillong er smriti’ By Sushila Sundari Dutta. Ref. ‘Netaji Pathagar Golden Jubilee Souvenir’]

  There were also several reports from Shillong in Luttman-Johnson’s paper, where it was reported that that there were aftershocks almost every ten minutes on the night of the 12th and during the day of the 13th.

Uma Purkayastha, a well-known author, is a retired principal of the Govt. Girls’ Higher Secondary School in Shillong and an academic by training. She started writing at an early age and has written a significant number of poems, short tales, novels, and plays. She is an ardent reader with keen insights. Some of her significant books are “Tagore and Pineland Shillong,” “Uttaran,” “Golpo Sambhar,” and “Beacon Light of the Khasi Hills.”

He served as the Inter-Religious Council of Southern California’s Vice President and is currently a cabinet member of the Interfaith Partnership of St. Louis. In 1978, he moved to St. Louis, Missouri, where he worked as the Assistant Minister for the Vedanta Society. After Swami Satprakashananda’s death, he became the Society’s Minister in 1980. He also serves as the minister of the Kansas City Vedanta Society. His extensive spiritual experience inspired Kajingshai to interview him for publication in the Across Boundaries section.

VEDANTA IN THE WEST
KJ: Could you please share your experiences as a minister at the Vedanta Society of St. Louis and the activities of the centre?
SC: The Vedanta Society of St. Louis was started by Swami Satprakashananda, a disciple of Swami Brahmananda, in 1938. He was a very learned monk, and he met Holy Mother, Swami Vivekananda, and several direct disciples. The swami passed away in 1979.
I came to Hollywood in 1971 and worked with Swami Prabhavananda for five years. I was transferred to St. Louis in 1978 to assist Swami Satprakashananda, who was then bedridden. I lived with him for nearly two years.

Swami Vivekananda brought Vedanta (or Hinduism) to the West in 1893; later, five disciples of Ramakrishna came to the West to preach Vedanta. The teachings of Vedanta are very appealing to the American people, especially for two reasons. First, they love democracy, and the Vedantic concept of God is a democratic concept of God: each soul is divine. Second, they love freedom. It is as if the Statue of Liberty in the New York harbour is their chosen deity. The goal of Vedanta philosophy is jivan-mukti (“free while living”). Freedom is the song of the soul.
Ramakrishna monks have been spreading the messages of Vedanta and Ramakrishna in the West for the last 130 years. I have been working in this country for 52 years. Our St. Louis centre has various activities, such as daily worship and arati, lectures and classes, publications and a bookshop, interfaith meetings and interviews with students, and a spiritual ministry.
KJ: What are the Indian values that you believe should drive the 21st-century world? With technological advancements and Westernization, people seem to be drifting away from their culture, food, and traditions.
SC: India was under foreign rule for 1,000 years – Muslims ruled for 700 years; and the British, French, and Portuguese for a total of 300 years. Now India is a free nation and making tremendous progress in the fields of Economy and Technology. Behind all this spectacular progress, India should not forget her eternal values, which Swamiji reminded us of in his Lectures from Colombo to Almora. Material prosperity cannot bring peace and bliss in life; one cannot buy them in the market either. They come from spiritual life. Ramakrishna said that kamini-kanchan (lust and gold) cannot give happiness. This truth has been tested by many nations of the world, and some are now experimenting with it. India demonstrated the eternal values of renunciation and service in a changing society. Swamiji said that these are our national ideals: Renounce your ego and selfishness, and serve human beings as God. This is the religion of this age and the way one can find fulfillment in life. Swamiji said: They only live who live for others. I hope Indian people will listen to Swamiji and eventually will move in that direction.
When we study religion in the world, we find that the main focus in the 19th century was reasoning. People tried to understand God through reasoning. In the 20th century, the main focus of religion was humanism. People asked: If religion cannot bring happiness, what good is that religion? In the 21st century, I believe that the main focus of religion will be mysticism. People say that we have read enough, heard enough, and seen enough – now we want experience. In this context, Ramakrishna and our age-old Vedantic tradition will play an important role.
In 1992, I was invited by the School of Contemporary Mysticism in Avila, Spain, St. Teresa’s birthplace. I spoke on Ramakrishna’s spiritual experiences.
LIFE AND GOD
KJ: In the context of the Harmony of Religions, what universal moral ethics should every religion stress to maintain harmony in society?
SC: The seed of the harmony of religions is in the Rig Veda, Bhagavad Gita, and Shivamahimnah Stotra. But Sri Ramakrishna demonstrated that wonderful ideal in his life by practising Christianity and Islam along with Hinduism. He realized God in the Hindu way and then through other religions. No one, except for Sri Ramakrishna, has ever done that in the religious history of the world. His unique message was Jato mat tato path – as many faiths, so many paths. Do not quarrel about religion. Nowadays, we find that “Inter-religious Councils,” “Interfaith Partnerships,” and similar organizations are springing up in many cities in the Western world. This phenomenon started after the advent of Ramakrishna and after the Parliament of Religions at Chicago in 1893. In America, Swamiji gave a few lectures on ‘The Ideals of Universal Religion.’
I remember an incident that took place in St. Louis in 1980s. The local TV station interviewed me on Vedanta religion. The interviewer was Catholic. He asked me: “Swami, are the Hindu God, Christian God, Muslim God, and Jewish God different?”
I answered: “When the sun rises, can you say it a Hindu sun, Christian sun, Muslim sun, or Jewish sun? Can you put any stamp on the sun?”
The interviewer replied: “Swami, I have my answer.”
Swamiji spoke of universal moral ethics in his last lecture in the Parliament of Religions in Chicago in 1893:
The Christian is not to become a Hindu or a Buddhist, nor a Hindu or a Buddhist to become a Christian. But each must assimilate the spirit of the others and yet preserve his individuality and grow according to his own law of growth. In the face of this evidence, if anybody dreams of the exclusive survival of his own religion and the destruction of the others, I pity him from the bottom of my heart, and point out to him that upon the banner of every religion will soon be written, in spite of resistance: “Help and not Fight,” “Assimilation and not Destruction,” “Harmony and Peace and not Dissension.”
YOUTH AND SOCIETY
KJ: With growing wealth and prosperity in the middle class, many young people are skeptical about spiritual messages. They believe that unlike science, spiritual truths cannot be verified. How can they be convinced otherwise?
SC: It is true that nowadays the young generation are less interested in religion. In the West also, very few people go to church. Atheists, agnostics, and skeptics are not enemies of religion. They keep religion alive. They are true enemies of religion who are apathetic toward religion. Anyhow, when they are in trouble, they look upward and ask for help from God.
You see, Vedanta is a scientific religion. The method of science is experimentation, verification, and conclusion. Vedantic truths have been tested, verified, and then accepted. I think that those who complain against the Vedantic religion have never practised it.
There are two complains against Vedanta: first, it is dry; and second, it is difficult. You see, the subject matter of Vedanta is Satchidanada – existence, knowledge, and bliss. It is hard to believe that the blissful Brahman is dry. Those who complain that Vedanta is difficult, they never sincerely tried to understand this wonderful philosophy. If you want to get milk and kernel of the coconut, you will have to break the shell.
NORTH EAST INDIA AND SHILLONG
KJ: : RKM Shillong is fortunate to have had Revered Bhuteshanandaji Maharaj as the First Secretary, and several other great monks (such as Rev. Gahananandaji, Prameyanandaji and others) have contributed to the growth of the Shillong ashrama. Please share any reminiscences about RKM Shillong and your association with these monks.
SC: I have nothing to say at present.
RESEARCH AND NEW FINDINGS
KJ: Can you mention one incident from the recent discoveries about Swamiji’s travels/works?
SC: Some years ago, I got the script of Swamiji’s reminiscences by Mrs. Hansbrough from the Vedanta Society of San Francisco. I edited it and sent it to Prabuddha Bharata for publication. Then I translated it into Bengali, and this was published in Udbodhan magazine and later incorporated into Bahurupe Vivekananda. I found many interesting episodes concerning Swamiji in it, especially his human aspect. Let me tell you one incident.
Ralph was a son of Mrs. Wycoff, one of the Mead sisters who were devoted to Swamiji. He lived in their house in Pasadena for a few weeks in 1900. Ralph was then a teenaged boy and devoted to Swamiji.
One day Swamiji said: “Ralph, God is so near to us, but people do not see Him.”
Ralph: “Why, Swamiji?”
Swamiji: “You see everything with your eyes. Can you see your own eyes?”
Ralph: “No, Swamiji.” (After a pause) “But I can see my eyes in a mirror.”
Swamiji: “Ralph, that is the answer. If you have a pure, clean mind, you can see God right now.”
It is amazing that Swamiji did not quote any scripture or give a long talk to this American boy. He just convinced a young American by using a common example. Jesus said: “Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God.” It was said 2000 years ago and still it is a gospel truth. Our Upanishadic teachings are four to five thousand years old, still they are true. Truth never becomes old
Thank you,
Swami Chetanananda, Laguna Beach, California, 26. 8. 23

Folklore and Media Perspective is the way in which the contested definition of folklore is being presented. At the outset, I would like to reiterate the refreshing observations made by Dan Ben-Amos and would like to quote it as a guiding mode for my thesis in trying to address the issue:

To define folklore, it is necessary to examine the phenomena as they exist. It is cultural context; folklore is not an aggregate of things, but a process-a communicative process, to be exact.

While this conception about folklore clearly delineates the collection that folklore was purported to represent, it lays stress on the contextual aspect of transmission, which in turn allows us to see folklore as a communicative process involving the producer of an item of folklore to share her or his product with an end-user. Thus, it follows that a storyteller can entertain an audience with a story, and while the three are distinctive entities, they are related to each other as components of a single continuum and it is in this way that folklore exhibits a splendid trait of the communicative process. Folklore should be understood as a social interaction which makes use of various modes of communication including the art forms and significantly, mass media.

Recognizing communication as the common denominator of folklore and media, it can be affirmed that no society exists without the activities attributed to it – surveillance of the environment to call attention to threats and opportunities, correlation of the various part of society in making a response of the environment and transmission of the social milieu to succeeding generations. In addition, modern media modes provide entertainment and even an escape from the tedium and grind of everyday life.

This conception of folklore also facilitates the much-needed academic debate on folklore the subject matter and folkloristics the study of that subject matter. If we are to grapple with the realities of our technology-driven civilization as significantly reflected in and perpetuated by information technology and mass communication, we need to be clear in dealing with the scholarship of folkloristics and its very demanding applications.

The identification of communication as the criterion of both folklore and media is the critical point which will illustrate the exciting intersections that occur between the two seemingly autonomous and disparate disciplines. As stated above, folkloristics is the scientific study of folklore and a great part of it is related to the study of contemporary society which generates and sustains its own tradition through media at its disposal. At one point of time, it was widely held that technological media was detrimental to folklore but I feel that this is a naive assertion as the study of contemporary culture implies the use of a range of expressive and communication system which cannot exclude technological media.

Folkloristics is an inter-disciplinary and multi-disciplinary subject embracing the social sciences, humanities and the arts. Mass media, likewise, is an indiscriminate consumer of raw material, making use of anything and everything to achieve its objective of successful communication. In this, it has been observed that the material or products that folklore provides are adroitly used by the media and presented through its various modes.  Mass culture or folklorismus is the industrial renewal of folklore. It is the process of channeling the traditional folk themes, metaphors, motifs, ideas and beliefs into the mass-produced industrial-commercial products, mass media and other forms of modern communication. Indian society, as we are aware, is not strictly speaking an industrial society at the present moment. However, as a developing country, industrialization is an important aspect of our growth and progress.

The marchen or fairytale has been used times out of number as advertisement material in the print as well as electronic media and again, while the fairytale have been serialized and moulded in comics and cartoon formats, legends  and myths have been presented as news or human interest stories in papers and magazines. These latter examples have often been sensationalized to which accusation Henry G. Gray, a pioneer newspaperman was quick to defend saying “The purpose of a newspaper is to print the truth and make a profit, not necessarily in that order”. I have observed that the tendency of newspapers and magazines to sensationalize has been when there is a “discovery syndrome” story involved.

A couple of years ago, The Telegraph did a story on the practice of name-giving and calling through tunes employed by people living in the remote villages of Khatar Shnong. The reports bordered on exoticizing the place, people and the practice. Admittedly, the tradition is of great interest to readers but to say that the practice is unique is rather far-fetched. Name-calling through tunes is a system of traditional utterance employed by folk groups in different ways. The tradition is widely practiced by some ethnic communities living in the Andean heights of South America and the Tyrolean Mountains of Europe.

The comic book, as a genre of mass communication emerged sometime in the 1930s and the portrayal of the exploits of comic-book heroes completely absorbed the attention of the young and old alike, selling something like 600 million copies yearly and that too during the periods of the Great Depression in the United States. A discerning reader of comic books would easily detect Superman, Flash Gordon, Batman and assorted other comic book characters as spin-offs from mythic and legendary figures. I am tempted here to cite the example of our own folk hero, U Adadak, who is presented as the ideal comic hero in that he, along with his friends forming an alliance and going out to the world in search of adventure. His friends comprise of U Puh Shilum or Hill-plougher, Khwai Shynreh or Buffalo-fisher and Kynting Mawsan or Boulder-thrower. These Herculean figures are accompanied by a dwarf riding a cat. In the hands of a comic book artist or film animation artist, the exploits of these mythic figures would make for very interesting reading or viewing.

When Marconi equipped two US ships to report back to newspapers on the America’s Cup Race in 1899, few thought that the wireless would dominate world airwaves for the next eighty years and bring to people’s  home news, music, stories and the market. The systematic development of commercial radio broadcasting was started by David Sarnoff who became famous for two reasons – one, he was the first person to have heard the distress signal from the sinking Titanic while being stationed on the East Coast of the United States. Second, David Sarnoff became the guiding spirit of Radio Corporation of America. Sarnoff’s plan was to make radio a “household utility” and since then, radio has never looked back.* What followed was a frenzied scramble for frequencies and churning out of programmes of which cultural productions such as radio plays, and songs formed a heavy component. The regeneration in folk music especially was largely sustained by radio stations all over the world. All India Radio Shillong commissioned in 1948 is a case in point. The huge collections of spools in its holdings represent one of the best repositories of folk music in the country.

Allow me to say that the first tentative steps I took in the field of folklore research was encouraged by All India Radio in the mid-1980s. I was working on a part-time basis and under the supervision of the talented late A.N. Kharkongor, we produced substantial programmes by recording live ceremonies and performances. When the North Eastern Service of All India Radio started in the early 1990s, there used to be a slotted weekly programme called folklore retold hosted by Dr. Soumen Sen, a veteran folklorist of North-East India. It was a hugely successful programme and it did a tremendous job to generate interest among listeners.

Film has a pervasive influence on our culture. It shares certain principal elements with literature, another discourse that dominates our culture. The youngest of the art forms, film draws on techniques and conventions from theatre and music yet, all that being said, it has evolved its own narrative method by harnessing the support of technology.

Films are an important part of mass culture everywhere and more so in India where these films play a very important role in the society. This is substantiated by the fact that India produces more films in a year than any other country in the world. In the first place, popular films in India, irrespective of the language they are produced in, are more or less like “modern fairy tales.”  Scholars have recognized that popular Indian films follow the same structural patterns as one notices in fairy tales and folktales. Popular films .with love themes (boy meets girl plots) seem to fantasize love and adventure with themes of the hero winning against great odds through the strength of individual desire which are classified motifs in the celebrated Aarni-Thompson Index of Tale Types. The magic of the myth and the fairy tale has not died out completely- it survives in changed forms in the Indian popular cinema. While Jawaharlal Handoo  talks of four broad categories in popular Indian cinema which seem to operate on folklore, there are more sub-categories which I shall discuss here:

i)             Full Myth Films in which traditional myths or folktales or their national or regional variants are incorporated without changing the basic plot structure.

ii)            Half Myth Films in which the myth or the traditional narrative is imposed on a non-traditional plot-structure or vice-versa. This form is also more appealing both to the city and the village people as it very appropriately establishes the relevance of the mythic metaphors in the modern context.

iii)           Mythic Theme Films represent such films which borrow one or many mythic motifs and use them according to the needs of the plot-structure, which may otherwise be completely non-mythic and non-traditional.

iv)           Fairy Tale Pattern Films are those popular films which exhibit a deep structure-pattern comparable to fairy tales. For example, the hero in such films, just like the fairy tale has to pass numerous tests before being able to trace his heroine, liquidate the villain, win back the heroine and marry her. The donor’s and villain’s actions, just like the fairy tale, are crucial in such films. The logic of the fairy tale pattern: from disequilibrium to equilibrium is an essential feature of such films.

v)            Fairy Tale Reversal films are those that employ folk motifs in a completely reversed format. The best example of this kind is Shrek, where we find the ogre cast in the role of a hero and the stereotyped prince is thoroughly undermined.

vi)           Urban legends with touches of the horrific are doing very well as Hollywood productions and there are a proliferation of films, made in Hollywood and Bollywood, which cater to the consumption fever of the young for the gothic. 

Thus, the fairy tale, if not in its entirety, but in terms of structural frame and action patterns seems alive and thriving in one form or the other in the modern Indian celluloid industry. The cinematic jargon used to describe actors as celestial objects reveal a happy coincidence of folk speech and functional nomenclature. The Khasis refer to handsome males as Nai khatsaw synnia or the full moon which shares the firmaments with ki khlur or stars. Both the celestial objects are considered   males and in both are fitting examples of luminosity.

The use of folklore in media is not only confined to borrowings from narratives and other performative genres but can also be detected in the structures and practices used in mass media. The cultural expressions of people’s everyday life is the core area of folklore studies and folklorists are seriously studying how folk narratives, metaphors, customs and usages are integrated into community life. A very strong reflection of the process of integration of folk nuances with patterns in communication systems of society is found in television. The rise and spread of the T.V. phenomenon in India have been very fast. It has made a strong impact on Indian society and mass culture. Besides direct telecasting of great Indian epics (Ramayana and Mahabharala were great hits) and myths, and other forms of oral narrative including “frozen” forms such as, “Vikram aur Baital” (Vikram and the Baital) and living folktales in serials like “Dada-Dadi ki Kahaniyan” (tales of grandfather arid grandmother), there are numerous indirect forms in which T.V. as a strong medium of mass culture plays the role of renewing folklore and other forms of oral tradition in modern Indian society.

The modernization of the society led many scholars to believe that folklore was dying or would die out very soon. In fact, some genres did disappear from oral tradition due to the impact of the modernization, but they continued to live on in other forms of modern media. For example the television superheroes in many countries have taken some of the roles that traditional folk heroes have always had. Interestingly, this kind of change and continuity of tradition is more visible in modern mass culture and the heroes of this culture which have the same characteristics as the traditional animal tale heroes.5 Similarly, in many countries the magic folktale is no longer transmitted orally, but through books, videos and television and now in¬ternet and e. mail etc. “Television,” writes Gary Alan Fine,  “has apparently changed the temporal boundaries of entertainment, possibly more than it has altered the con¬tent of the stories.” Parents more often than not use all these modem media and read or retell them to their children. The professional storytellers too adapt them from printed or oral sources. These storytellers are not bound by regional or national folk traditions, but feel free to use stories from any culture.

T.V. advertising is another area in which folklore metaphors, symbols, designs, motifs, and ideas are transformed to popularize or boost modern industrial products, and as such become an important part of mass culture. In the past FIFA World Cup, the Sports giant, Addidas, used an inverted proverb to promote its products. The visual showed a small boy playing football with many world cup football stars, past and present.  When the boy scored a goal, the catch-line came as follows: Impossible is Nothing which is the inverted form of Nothing is Impossible.

A couple of years ago, my students and I did a survey of magazine advertisements (using Time and India Today as source material) with the intention of locating folklore metaphors and symbolism used in the advertisement visuals and texts. We discovered that forty percent of the material making use of easily recognized folk metaphors in products such as Bacardi rum where the bat is a central figure to Visa card, Singapore Airlines and the Allianz Insurance which some feminist group in South India, I think, felt was incestuous. There is even a computer virus named Trojan Horse which has affected my computer system.

Television portrays salient aspects of cultural life and though many programmes are created outside everyday life (News, Sitcoms etc.), they are patterned after experiences and impressions of real-life situations: Mie Berg on the introduction of television describes the phenomenon thus: “Television suddenly brought the whole world into the living room. One switched it on – and the living pictures flowed into the family’s circle…”

Through a mass-mediated production, we become part of a larger world whose influences work their way into our lives and altering our perspectives. As a cultural being, humans are obsessed with routines and rituals and as communication consumers, we structure our everyday lives on a necessity which we customize. I have observed that TV constitutes a very significant marker as far as domesticity is concerned. In a family, members will vie for viewing time and the remote becomes an object of authority even hegemony. Television is consciously anointed as the symbolic order we create out of and for our everyday culture. The invasion of our domestic and mental domain by television can best be illustrated by Michael Marsden  who says: “the television receiver has quietly and smoothly assumed the role of household god, becoming the focal point for interior designer and homeowner alike”

During the early nineteen eighties, very few families in Shillong had television sets and during important events such as Republic Day parades and I remember specifically, that during the Asian Games played in New Delhi, people used to congregate in homes that had TV sets and sometimes, the sets were placed outside to facilitate wider viewership. Naturally, TV was pronounced TB that is substituted by a voiced bilabial stop because the voiced labio-dental is not present in Khasi. That TB is a short form for tubercolosis is common enough knowledge and some wit would exhibit his familiarity with both the disease as well as the gadget by saying that TB is nowadays curable; the thing is when someone has colour TB meaning colour television, implying advanced stage of TB, then there is a real cause for concern! By a skillful twist of language, the wit has added to the store of colloquial speech. Another example of integration of a folk aphorism with contemporary lifestyle that I have heard is when a person dies, she or he is referred to as having gone to God’s house to watch TV, deviating from the traditional practice of referring to such occurrences as having gone to God’s house to eat betel nuts.

The intersections between folklore and the media cannot be underrated. The two domains are, by academic definition, autonomous yet they display an inter-connectedness that will open up more exciting work in this brave new century.

KJ: Your book about Vivekananda covers the importance of his philosophy from multiple perspectives in an interesting way. How did you discover Vivekananda, and why you decided to switch genres in your writing?

RH: Well, there are two things. On one level, it was a shift, a tremendous shift, and I had to spend 8-10 years doing the book because I had no background. On another level, it wasn’t because I came to it through French history. I was reading about the relationship between Romain Rolland and Gandhi and picked up two other books he wrote. One on Ramakrishna (La Vie De Ramakrishna), and the other on Vivekananda ( La Vie De Vivekananda). It’s that book that got me started. 

The second reason is that people like Vivekananda came from the colonial and imperial world to the west, but they shaped our views and shifted our perceptions. Also, I wanted to explore why somebody like Vivekananda had such an impact outside of India before he returned to India. I began to read letters, and I got a sense of him as a human being. That was very enticing.

KJ: When you read him first, what really struck you? 

RH: What struck me about him was his capacity to express very harsh, fundamental truths through wit and humour, especially to his western audience and, at the same time, his openness to their preoccupations. I was stunned by this because he could have been very angry. There were times when he said, ‘Please, don’t speak of us as heathens, don’t offer us stones when we need food.’ It was also his cultural ambidexterity that he could engage in any of the discussions Westerners were interested in. That struck me, and so did the first woman who dealt with him. He could talk about many things, and I began to think, ‘what does it mean for somebody like this, to so many different people, that he had to encompass all this learning and ability to communicate?’

KJ: Did you ever feel like ‘let me write on the Guru of Vivekananda?’

RH: Well, I have to say, of all the things I wrote, the chapter on Sri Ramakrishna was the most difficult. As a Westerner not brought up in this tradition, I had read the gospel of Ramakrishna, and I began to think of how difficult it is to convey the message of Ramakrishna. I was trying to understand, but we get that message only through devotees completely changed by his presence. We get an extraordinary sense of his charisma, humanity, and capacity to touch people with different psychological makeups. 

The story of Ramakrishna and Vivekananda is often told as a story of opposites, but it’s superficial opposites. Certainly, Ramakrishna comes across as  Bhakta, Vivekananda as sceptical Jnani. But underneath, it was Ramakrishna’s wisdom that he was learning. Vivekananda himself said, ‘I am a bhakta’. It is a complex and transformational relationship; I think Ramakrishna understands that you need somebody who can communicate in the wider world; the savviness of somebody like Ramakrishna really impressed me. 

Finally, I found out how he insisted on being a baby and said that innocence and play of babyhood are authentic Atman. He acknowledges Vivekananda’s intelligence; when he reasons too much, he says, ‘you must go beyond that.’ This is something that he used when he was speaking to his audience. It wasn’t just the rational Vivekananda that they loved.

KJ: What thoughts made you think that the concept of ‘Swami Vivekananda and America’ needs a new light? 

RH: There was a personal dimension here in a weird way. It brought many things together for me. Of course, I am American, ended up in Britain, and married an Englishman. It was interesting that working on Vivekananda brought my American, British and Indian friends together. 

Most of my American friends said, ‘we’re growing up; we’re not religious; we’re spiritual.’ I thought, ‘Where does that come from?’ Many of them were Jewish or Christian. But they all think of themselves as spiritual. Yet, they knew on some level that many of the ideas around spirituality they professed came from some vision of yoga or India. 

I realized that people had not grasped the connection between Vivekananda and William James, who was considered in America to be the founder of psychology. Romain Rolland, in  his discussion of Vivekananda, writes about William James. He recognizes that Vivekananda is part of a greater shift in views of self-consciousness and religious experience. I read some of his correspondence and realized that he was having a debate with Vivekananda. He does not accept Hinduism. He still thinks of it in very orientalist terms as metaphysical and transcendent, but not based on science.

KJ: It’s intriguing that you present and understand Indian ethos so delicately in this book. How challenging was that? 

RH: I can’t tell you. In the fourth year, I began to despair. I thought, ‘Oh, this time, I’ve bitten off too much. This time, I’m going to get into trouble.’ That’s because I could not understand, but I was working hard. I was raised in a Jewish tradition and spent a year working on Catholicism to learn about the Virgin Mary. 

I think the change came when I listened to a good translation of the Gita. When you begin to understand what it is, for Arjuna not to defend his family and his relations because of his Dharma, when Indian families mean so much. The sacrifice is extraordinary for the higher ethos I began to appreciate. 

Interestingly, many of my Indian friends began to recognize that we really can’t understand politics, and of course, the Indian anti-colonial struggle without religion. I had been working on religion and science for many years, but what I was doing on Vivekananda was different. It was in exchanges with my friends that I began to get an idea. I tried to be delicate, I’m not sure I always managed. 

I tried to use my historical imagination to enter into the world I was looking at. I realized that people pick and choose from Vivekananda. But the world he lived in was not like ours. We have to understand that it was a world of theosophy, spiritualism and Christian science. 

KJ: In Vivekananda’s writings and speeches, there seems to be a convergence between modern science and Vedanta. He also cautioned against superstitious beliefs in both science and religion. What is the main lesson to be learned from these opposing ideas?

RH: What he’s saying is don’t accept claims from either religion or science as blanket claims. Each individual must find her own path through intellectual understanding. Vivekananda globalizes Hinduism, he engages in debates, and he’s provocative. The Orthodox didn’t accept what he was doing. There are those who disagree with his vision of the relationship of Karma Yoga with Advaita. There are others who do not want to give up rituals. He never said you had to give up anything. He wanted people to question. Though he did prioritize Advaita above other forms, he never lost sight of the fact that Ramakrishna had achieved everything spiritually through Kali.

KJ: Do you think Swami Vivekananda, in a sense, was more unique in his approach than Ramakrishna?

RH: It is not that, that he isn’t unique; Ramakrishna is utterly unique. He’s not like anybody I’ve ever encountered, he’s remarkable. But what I’m saying is that Vivekananda becomes a global figure, he goes to Chicago, he does all those things that Ramakrishna could never engage with.

In his encounter with Ramakrishna, he wants to see God. Vivekananda has this mystical sense and he knows, that it was Ramakrishna who can do that. That’s when he accepts Ramakrishna. It’s a spiritual reconciliation of the highest order. I think that’s partially why he hopes to bring reconciliation when he goes to America. But he’s also savvy, he needs to impress them, he also acknowledges that there are dynamics of power that have to shift. He scolds the people in the West. He says, ‘You’re brutal, you’re materialistic. You don’t listen, you don’t see yourselves.’ When he comes back to India, he says, ‘You’re timid, you’re quarrelsome. you must learn self-reliance, commit yourself to practical Vedanta.’ Like a good Guru, he says different things to different audiences. Despite that, I don’t think that there are two Vivekanandas. He wishes he was back with Ramakrishna, but he has to shift his whole rhythm and psyche and it’s exhausting. That’s why his women friends in America, worry about him all the time, they see he’s exhausted.

KJ: Do you believe that the mental pressure and stress Vivekananda experienced was due to the obstacles and superstitious beliefs that he had to overcome?

RH: I do think it was very exhausting, it’s again that human capacity to acknowledge his weaknesses that I got attracted to him, that he wasn’t a Superman. That he not being a Superman, he’s extraordinary. He talks about ‘The imitation of Christ.’ You can imitate Christ, he says, be Christ, be better than Christ. But he doesn’t want Indians to imitate the British; he wants them to be Indian. How do you take the world, the universal, while remaining authentically yourself? That’s his message for individuals and nations.

KJ: How do you think these ideas about blending experience and reason are influencing the modern thought currents of the West? 

RH: In this connection, we may remember his discussion with William James. They all were trying to blend experience and reason. When people say in America, I’m not religious, I’m spiritual, what they’re trying to say is, I think, ‘we’re not superstitious, we don’t belong to these old ideas, but we are open to many different paths.’ 

He was interested in creating a Vedantic science, but he himself could not do that. He was interested in the idea that people would see the cosmic and the mundane together. They found it difficult because they think the universality is European rationality. But when science comes to India, it doesn’t shift. People are interested in science, but many continue to have their spiritual preoccupations.

In the West, there was a split. By the end of the 19th century, there was a revolt against these ideas and Vivekananda slots into those discussions. What’s interesting about Vivekananda is he believes in evolution, but he doesn’t believe that natural selection has a role in the higher mental and psychological faculties. Even Darwin’s co-discoverer, Alfred Russel Wallace, would have agreed with Vivekananda. 

KJ: There is a popular trend of using science to justify every religious ritual or practice. What was Vivekananda’s stance on this matter?

RH: Vivekananda wanted everyone to find his or her own way. He didn’t think that real spirituality was the miraculous. He encouraged people not to search for ‘getting powers or being miraculous’ He thought that a more enduring spirituality was based on perseverance and disciplined search. 

I think he’d learned that from Ramakrishna, and that’s why I begin that chapter by talking about how Ramakrishna has throat cancer and his disciples want him to cure himself, and Ramakrishna says, ‘I can’t ask for that. As I spent all my time explaining that the body is nothing.’

These are things that Vivekananda knew and tried to convey to his American devotees. 

One of the things about my book is to show how the vision of science changes very much over time. I still think that we have an overinflated view of science. It can explain some aspects of the world but not everything.

KJ: In your treatment of disciples of Swami Vivekananda, you have dealt with the Indians, the Americans and the British separately. Were their perceptions of Vivekananda different during his time? How do you look at this when the world is considered just one village?

RH: Absolutely. I mean, even though it is one village. In India, there are many who view Vivekananda through the eyes of family tradition; it’s there in the bone. Yet everyone has a different view in India of Vivekananda. 

In America and in Britain, it’s again, different because they see Vivekananda as basically the door opener to all these Indian ideas. I was trying to get them to understand that there’s a background to why he came to America. 

That Chicago thing is important because America is not yet an imperial power, it will be in 1898, five years after the Parliament. He’s glad to be in America because he speaks English but doesn’t have to deal with colonists. In Britain, people have heard of Vivekananda but don’t think of him through an imperial lens. They think of him as the founder of yoga. That’s what many people have heard of Vivekananda, but they don’t realize that he has had such a powerful afterlife in Indian society.

KJ: After reading Swami Vivekananda’s teachings on Vedanta, the concept of Self, Atman, and oneness, as a Westerner, how revolutionary were those ideas for you to comprehend?

RH: Yes, it really was revolutionary. But I also have to say what I loved about reading these high flights of Hindu metaphysical thought was how he joined them to stories.

First, I only understood the parable side, and then, with time, I began to investigate the other side. I spent so much time reading about American women because I was like the American women. But also because I’ve lived in Britain so long, I was like Margaret Noble.  Again the relationship between universalism and particularity is a very important issue for the Jews, the relationship between love and longing for spirituality. 

Vivekananda has been spoken about as a great cosmopolitan or a great globalist. But I think, after the pandemic, we realized that it’s not so easy when we are a village on one level, but we’re also highly fragmented. 

KJ: Vivekananda was many things to many people. Ruth, why did you want to attribute the word Guru to him?

RH: It’s very simple. I was saying that he was trying to be a guru to the world. But I also was trying to explain that India was often placed in that position. But rather than being easy to do, it’s also problematic because the idea that India is spiritual and the West is materialistic is basically a cliche.

We know that Indians are not purely spiritual and that Westerners are not purely materialistic. So while he enters into the Western world, by presenting himself as a guru to the world, he’s also constrained by these very categories that don’t allow people to step outside the box. I think that’s a great paradox for him.

I think it’s, if you don’t mind my saying, because I’m not Indian, it remains a great paradox for India today because India wants to be a world teacher, but it’s not always true that people do it that way. I wanted to explore that paradox honestly and with generosity.

KJ:  You mentioned that the book’s purpose evolved over time. Have you ever travelled to India, and if so, for what reason?

RH: I did. I went to the archives, and I did everything. I also went all over America to look at archives. I was in St. Louis, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Boston. I, of course, went to Calcutta, to Belur Math. I had to go to all these places. Because if you don’t have a sense of place, you can’t understand and, when you go and visit people, they give you bits of history. They give you their memories, what has been passed down to them, and you learn a lot.

KJ: Do you think Vivekananda’s philosophy should be taught to school or college students for a better world tomorrow?

RH: I think it would be very interesting to have some aspects of his work on universalism and diversity in the curriculum in our schools. In England, there is teaching in Christianity. But there’s also a lot of emphasis on religious studies, and now they’re starting to do courses on Hinduism.

 I would recommend reading ‘Practical Vedanta’, the lectures in London, where he describes that everything can be in the service of this Self that is God, even in the most humble things.