On a gloomy January day in the Indian village of Meoli, Shidiap Khongsti sings a
soft, melodic tune. It sounds like a lullaby a mother would sing to a crying
baby. Seconds later, she hears a tune in reply, and her nephew comes running
toward her. The tune is much more than an idle melody: For centuries, villagers
in Meoli have used tunes as their names. Mothers give each newborn a distinctive
melody within a week of birth. The Khasi people live in the subtropical jungles
of the Khasi Hills in the state of Meghalaya, which is also known for its
massive root bridges. Meoli encompasses about 130 households in a small area.
Locals never reuse the same tunes, even after a person dies. At the playground,
or before bed, mothers sing a short version of the melody. In the jungle, they
sing a longer version, usually 15 or 20 seconds long. For many years, such tunes
served as a signal for men hunting in the wilderness. But these traditions are
evolving as starts to modernize. Shidiap is a short, slim woman in her mid-50s.
She wears a jainsen, or a long shawl wrapped around her body, which is the
traditional attire for Khasi women in Meghalaya. In her small house, which is
surrounded by bamboo, Shidiap pours a cup of lal sha, or red chai, and
introduces her nephew Barailang Khongsti. “Barailang helps me with household
chores,” she says. At 23, Barailang has been living in the village his entire
life. Unlike some Khasi speakers in Meoli , Barailang speaks fluent Hindi. “We
don’t know how it began,” he says of the village’s distinctive songs. “Our
forefathers used these tunes when they went hunting. They believed that spirits
in the wild couldn’t keep track of us if we called each other by the tune.”
India Rice cooks on a wood fire in the household of Shidiap Khongsti (right).
Barailang sits in the center. Rice cooks on a wood fire in the household of
Shidiap Khongsti (right). Barailang sits in the center. Opposite Shidiap’s
house, Shithoh Khongsti, a 50-year-old mother of seven, runs a grocery shop.
(Shithoh and Shidiap are distant cousins, and belong to the same clan.) Her
teeth appear orange, caked with the areca nut she chews. She offers a bamboo
stool and a small piece of areca nut wrapped in betel leaf. Then, one by one,
she sings the tunes of her children. “I know most people’s tunes,” Shithoh says.
When little children run past her shop, she sings their tune, lovingly. Meoli
has a population of about 700, and she believes she knows about 500 melodies.
According to Shithoh, villagers remember their tunes even when they find work in
nearby cities, such as Shillong, the state capital, or Sohra, a frequent
destination for tourists. “Even those who live outside the village still
continue this tradition,” Shithoh says. While the melodies have little use
outside Meoli , mothers who move to other places still try to pass them on.
Shidiap has four children. Her two daughters study in Shillong, a three-hour
drive from the village. Her two sons live in Meoli . “When they were babies, I
sang a tune to send them to sleep, and that became their name,” Shidiap says,
during a visit to her cousin’s shop. “Only mothers can give their children these
tunes. It’s out of mother’s love.” Meoli , like other regions in Meghalaya where
Khasi people live, follows a matrilineal tradition. Children receive mothers’
last names, and property passes down to the youngest daughter of the family.
“The youngest daughter never leaves home. She eventually becomes the head of the
household in the Khasi society,” says C.A. Mawlong, a history professor at the
School of Social Sciences at North-Eastern Hill University in Shillong. “The
mother-child bond does not only determine clan membership, but also the rights
to the chieftainship, since succession and inheritance are transmitted in the
matrilineal line.” In the Khasi language, the tradition of tune-giving is called
jingrwai iawbei, which translates loosely to “song of the mother” or “song of
the first clan lady.” The origins of the tradition are uncertain, Mawlong says,
but the Khasi term for a clan’s maternal ancestor is ka iawbei. “There are many
references to her in the context of newborn babies,” she says. “But it’s highly
likely the tradition has practical roots. Tunes carry over distances better than
names.” Winter sun rays reflect on the East Khasi Hills. Winter sun rays reflect
on the East Khasi Hills. Residents of Meoli still have written names that are
registered at birth, because tunes would be longer and more complex to write.
But according to Mawlong, rural Khasi people avoid calling each other by name,
preferring familial terms such as elder sister, middle sister, and little
sister. “The idea that tunes would keep spirits away is probably a way of
legitimizing this practice,” Mawlong says. Back in her kitchen, Shidiap spoons
white rice onto a small plate and hands it to her husband, with a cup of red
tea. Both are staples of Khasi villages. Her husband sits next to her on a
wooden bench, talking about their two daughters, of whom the youngest is 17.
Though mothers often use tunes more frequently for small children, Shidiap still
uses them regularly. “He loves it too,” Shidiap says, looking at her husband,
and he smiles. Later, Barailang and Shidiap walk through the village on a path
lined with small houses, until they come to the local football field. Every
village in Meghalaya has one. When asked about marriage, Barailang seems shy: In
many Khasi villages, marriages aren’t registered on paper. “Suppose my wife is
from another village and she comes to live in Meoli ,” he says. “My mother or
one of my aunts would give her a tune.” Shidiap agrees: She gave a new tune to
her daughter-in-law, an outsider, who would continue the tradition. Some
families in nearby hamlets—12 villages in a region named Khadarshnong—also
follow Meoli ’s tradition, but the practice is not as universal there. Mawlong
believes that tourism plays a role keeping the tradition alive in Meoli ,
“Although Meoli is widely known for this practice, it was certainly not the only
one,” she says. “It seems to have appropriated the leadership role, very likely
because of tourism.” Media mentions and tourism bring new exposure and economic
life to the village. The village now has its own community-run homestay: two
traditional Khasi houses offering accommodation to visitors. Made from bamboo,
they sit next to the football ground. Locals play darts on the Meoli football
field in early 2020. Locals play darts on the Meoli football field in early
2020. In late March, India announced a nationwide lockdown, restricting movement
of its more than 1.3 billion residents. Since April 5, when Meghalaya closed
interstate borders, Meoli hasn’t welcomed new travelers to its homestay. With no
access to the state capital Shillong, which has reported some coronavirus cases,
villagers are depending on a government supply of dry rations. Neighbors share
their meals. Men and women work in the vegetable fields and orange orchards, and
Shithoh still runs her assorted shop with available stock. Back in January, on
the football field, Barailang and Shidiap sat while a group of men played darts.
Barailang used an old Motorola mobile phone to call his cousin, Shidiap’s first
son. “My aunt doesn’t have a cell phone,” he explained. There was no answer, so
Shidiap sang his tune into the chilly mountain wind. “The tradition of
tune-giving is well alive in Meoli ,” Barailang went on. “We are proud of it.”
Writer by Naseem Ahmad
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