Monoliths and archers

The sacred forest of Mawphlong village, one of over a hundred such places sprinkled through this plateau, is said to be home to a deity called U Ryngkew U Basa. This 75 acre forest is governed by the clan of priests called the Lyngdoh. Since this was the closest to Shillong, we drove down there. A fair was being set up when we reached. There were lots of tents, some signs directed us to empty places which would presumably fill up later. We wandered about, unable to figure out anything. Some people helpfully told us to come back later. When The Family asked about the sacred forest, people pointed in some direction.

Raju had decided to take the car back to the designated parking area and wait there. Later I thought that maybe he was uncomfortable here. That was a time of violent and exclusionary identity politics. Being so obviously tourists, we were safe. But maybe Raju felt he wasn’t. We walked in the direction which was pointed out and came across a field of Khasi monoliths. Typically they are set up in a sacred forest or just outside them, and commemorate either events or ancestors. I wondered about the dating as we walked into the copse of trees under which these monoliths stand. The monoliths had no writing on them, and their purpose can only be explained by someone who knows about then. Having a guide with us would have been good.

We wandered back and watched some archery practice. The people involved were of all ages, but shared a certain squinty eyed gaze at the target. The main competition was much later in the day. The place had the unsettled air of people having arrived too early for what they wanted. The sacred forest was not very close to here, and the disruption of the fair blocked off our way. We walked to one end of the fair ground and looked down at the green fields of the Mawphlong village. The forest held its secrets. We would have to come back another time to walk through it.

Street art of Shillong

I had quick glimpses of street art as the Rath of the Clan trundled around Shillong. My impression was that it had a better developed guerilla aesthetics than anything I see in Mumbai. The figure in the featured image holds a placard which says “Eat my shit.” When I saw this I wished I had the time to seek out other examples of local street art.

Unfortunately the hectic schedule of a relaxed family holiday left no time for such individual pursuits. I passed a long mural against human trafficking on one wall. I’ve seen similar messages in other places, so I believe it is not guerilla art. I hope someone local makes the effort to document this newly burgeoning scene. It certainly wasn’t noticeable five years ago.